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Boyfriend.

ISABELLA.

“You have to be fucking kidding me!” I screamed, throwing the wine bottle across the room. I heard footsteps run up the stairs.

I picked out my phone again, taking a closer look. The headline was the same. I wiped my eyes repeatedly. It couldn't be true. The tape couldn't be leaked. I hadn't given any blogs the green light.

I wiped slowly, reading through the message. As I scrolled further, realization hit me.

The blog hadn't just released the tape, they even gave the wrong fucking identity. I read through, seeing that they tagged as the said woman in the tape.

That was dirty, but wrong. I tapped on her profile, and opened it to see a ‘Stella McCartney’. They had the wrong woman!

“Who the fuck is that?” I asked, out loud.

The door to my room opened. I looked up to find two of my maids, standing confused.

“Ma'am, are you alright?” One of them asked.

“I'm fine. Leave.” I replied, still focused on her page. Her face looked familiar. I could tell we had seen each other once or
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