5

Eric’s POV

Isabella said she was bored, so I figured a weekend at the lake house would lift her spirits. It was the least I could do.

Meanwhile, Evelyn was locked up at my estate—punishment for both her lackluster performance and the way she shoved Isabella on the deck that day.

The audacity.

How dare she treat Isabella like that? If it hadn’t been for Isabella, I wouldn’t even be here—literally.

So yeah, maybe I went a little too far with Evelyn.

I sent her a text earlier, just to check in.

No response. Which was…unlike her. Evelyn usually replied quickly, even if it was just with a snarky emoji. But now? Radio silence.

My phone vibrated at last, a jolt of relief flickering through me.

Only for Isabella to snatch it right out of my hand before I even got the chance to glance at the screen.

“No phones, Eric,” she said, lips curling in a playful pout. “You promised me your full attention this weekend.”

“Sorry,” I muttered, reaching for it. “It’s probably Evelyn. I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

Isabella’s smile vanished. Her eyes glinted red, “I knew it,” she sobbed. “You’re still thinking about her. So why even bother bringing me here if your mind’s stuck on Evelyn? After everything she had done to me, I thought I can live free of her, at least for the weekend.”

Before I could reply, she turned sharply and stormed off.

“Isabella, wait!” I followed her, my chest tightening.

She was right. It wasn’t fair to think about Evelyn—not while I was with Isabella. Not after everything.

Still... the last time I saw Evelyn, she hadn’t been herself. Distant. Unsteady.

But maybe I was just being paranoid.

What could she possibly do? I had bodyguards watching her.

When I caught up, I handed Isabella my phone. “Take it. I’m yours this weekend. Only yours.”

Her smile returned like sunshine through the storm. She kissed me softly. “You are the best.” She paused, “And, Eric, I sort of want dinner by the lake. Can you go ask the chef?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” I murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist.

I turned back toward the house but paused—shit. I forgot to ask what she actually wanted for dinner.

I jogged back.

And froze.

Adam was with Isabella. Not talking, but hugging and kissing like a couple.

Isabella wrapped her arms around Adam’s neck, kissing his ear and laughing.

What the fuck?

“Adam, if it weren’t for you,” she said, smugly, “Eric would’ve never believed the story about me saving him back at Mexico. Not to mention whisking me off for this romantic lakeside getaway… and making me the love of his life.”

Adam chuckled, sliding his hand over her ass. “How about a little treat later? I’ve missed being under you.”

The blood drained from my face. My right-hand man. The woman I thought I loved. Together. Kissing. Making out. Making fun of me. Plotting against me.

Adam’s dark laughter rang out. “I’m risking everything here for you, love. If Eric finds out the truth? You know how he gets. He’d kill us both.”

“Oh, relax babe,” she cooed. “He would never suspected us. We gave him the perfect performance.” She rested her head against his chest. “By the way,” she asked, almost too sweetly, “how did you handle Evelyn the other day? You didn’t—”

“God, no,” Adam sneered. “She’s trash. Not my type. But I humiliated her. Made her crawl on the floor like a dog.”

Isabella giggled. “You’re so naughty.”

Their lips crashed together. And that was it.

I stepped out, raised my gun, and fired a single shot into the air.

They jumped apart like guilty teenagers.

Adam nearly pissed himself. Isabella went pale as chalk.

“Boss, I—it was a joke! Just fooling around!” Adam stammered. “I’d never—”

But I wasn’t even hearing him anymore. I wasn’t even angry about him kissing Isabella. I was angry about what he said about Evelyn.

Making her crawl. Like a dog.

Rage exploded inside me like a grenade. “How dare you,” I growled.

I aimed at Adam’s leg and pulled the trigger.

He screamed as he crumpled, blood soaking the grass. “I’m sorry! Please. Boss. Please don’t kill me—I’ll tell you everything!”

I stalked toward him, gun still smoking.

“Then start talking,” I said, voice cold and lethal. “Who actually saved me in Mexico?”

Because now I knew—it wasn’t Isabella.

And in that moment, I had a very, very bad feeling about who had really saved me.

“Eric!” Isabella's voice shrilled behind me. “Don’t believe a word this snake says! Adam threatened me to have sex with him, or he would kill me!”

I didn’t even turn around. Didn’t spare her a glance.

“Say another word,” I warned coldly, “and the next bullet goes through your face.”

Adam crawled over, dragging himself through the blood-soaked dirt, clutching at my pant leg like a dog. “Please, Boss. You have to believe me.”

His face was streaked with tears and sweat, “I—I lost my head when Isabella came to me. She begged me to lie to you. Said it would help keep Evelyn out of the picture. But it wasn’t Isabella who saved you in Mexico—it was Evelyn. She was the one who treated your wound. She’s the doctor. Isabella—she’s just been pretending.”

He sniffled. “Please… I never meant to hurt you. I thought—”

He didn’t finish. His voice collapsed under the weight of his guilt.

“And the deck,” Adam added, more quietly now, “that day when Isabella said that Evelyn insulted her… it was Isabella who hit her first. Evelyn never touched her.”

Then Isabella was on him like a snake striking, pressing her palm against his mouth. “Shut up!” she hissed. “Eric, don’t listen to him. He’s lying. You know I saved you. You know it was me! And all the good time we had together. That was true too.”