CHAPTER EIGHT

Isabella sat cautiously on the brink of the leather sofa, her hands clasped firmly in her lap. The busy law firm hallway felt cramped, with each glance in her direction expressing implicit condemnation. She approached the receptionist's desk for what felt like the hundredth time.  

 

 

"Excuse me," Isabella said meekly. "I was wondering if—" 

 

The receptionist interrupted her in the middle of her statement with a fake smile. ”Sorry Mrs. Stone, but like I told you earlier, all our attorneys in the firm are busy at the moment, if you would like to leave your details we can fit you in.” 

 

 

“Please,” Isabella said softly. This is on the emergency level, all I need is to talk to someone for a few minutes. 

 

 

The face of the receptionist remained static with the same charming smile as earlier. "I hear you but it’s beyond my control. Perhaps you'd like to try another firm?" 

 

 

Isabella, beaten down, returned to her seat. Her phone buzzed non-stop in her purse. She pulled it out with shaking hands, shuddering at the stream of venomous words that filled her screen. 

 

 

"Liar." 

 

"How dare you drag our family's name through the mud?" 

 

 

"You'll pay for this, Isabella." 

 

 

She was about to turn off her phone when it began to ring. Her mother's name flashed on the screen. Taking a deep breath, Isabella answered. 

 

 

"Hello, Mom—" 

 

 

"How could you?" her mother's shrill voice cut through. "After everything they have done for you! Divorce Richard? Have you lost your mind?" 

 

 

Isabella's voice quavered. "Mom, please listen. It's not what you think—" 

 

 

"Not what I think?" her mother scoffed.  

 

 

"Richard told us everything. How you've been unstable, how you've mistreated his family. And now you want a divorce? You ungrateful girl!" 

 

"That's not true!" Isabella protested, her voice rising. Heads turned in the lobby, and she lowered her voice. "Mom, Richard is lying. He's the one who—" 

 

 

"Enough!" her mother snapped. "You listen to me, Isabella. You will apologize to Richard and his family. And don't even think about keeping a penny of their money. You hear me?" 

 

 

The line went dead. Isabella looked at her phone, tears building in her eyes. With trembling fingers, she restricted her parent and brother's numbers before turning off her phone.  

 

 

Behind her, hushed words rang through the air. "That's her, right? Richard Stone's wife?" 

 

 

"The nerve of that woman, coming here after what she has done." 

 

 

"I heard from my cousin who works at the country club," a young intern said excitedly to her colleagues. "Apparently, Isabella tried to push her pregnant cousin down the stairs!" 

 

 

Gasps of shock rippled through the small group. "No way!" one exclaimed. "That's horrible!" 

 

 

"I know, right?" the intern continued, revelling in the attention. "And get this, when Richard questioned her about it, she went crazy. She threw objects and cursed at the apex of her lungs. The neighbours called the police!" 

 

 

Isabella's hands tightened into fists, her nails piercing into her palms. How could they believe such lies? How could they spread these vicious rumours without a shred of evidence? 

 

 

A distinguished-looking older attorney shook his head as he passed by. "In my day, women knew their place. This one should be grateful for the life Richard's given her. Instead, she bites the hand that feeds her." 

 

 

Isabella hunched her shoulders, trying to make herself smaller. 

 

 

A man in an expensive suit shook his head. "No self-respecting lawyer would take her case. It's career suicide." 

 

 

His companion nodded. "Richard Stone's not an easy man to cross. Besides, who knows what skeletons she's hiding? These poor folks, always playing their games." 

 

"Exactly," a woman chimed in. "For all we know, she's just as bad as him. Probably fighting over money." 

 

 

The whispers continued, each word a dagger in Isabella's heart. She was considering fleeing when a stern-faced man approached her. 

 

 

"Mrs. Stone?" he said, his voice clipped. "I'm Mr Garrett, the office manager. I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave." 

 

 

Isabella stood, her legs unsteady. "Please, I just need to speak with a lawyer. Anyone. It's urgent." 

 

 

Mr. Garrett's lip curled. "Mrs Stone, let's be realistic. Even if you are, as you proclaim, untainted what can you provide? You're a destitute woman with a shattered reputation facing one of the city's most powerful families. 

 

 

"But I—" Isabella started. 

 

 

"If you were sensible," he continued, speaking over her, "you'd go home, apologize to your husband, and be grateful he hasn't pressed charges. Now, please leave before I'm forced to call security." 

 

 

Isabella felt the room spin. This couldn't be happening. She opened her mouth to protest when a strong, clear voice cut through the lobby. 

 

 

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Garrett. I'll take Mrs Stone's case." 

 

 

All heads turned to see a tall, impeccably dressed man striding towards them. Isabella recognized him immediately – The guy from the Stone’s celebration dinner. 

 

 

Mr Garrett sputtered. "Mr Donovan, what are you doing here? This woman—" 

 

 

"Is a potential client," Seth finished firmly. He turned to Isabella, his expression softening.  

 

 

"Mrs Stone, if you'd like to discuss your case, I have some time now. My office is just a few blocks away." 

 

Isabella nodded, hardly daring to believe this turn of events. As Seth led her towards the exit, the lobby erupted into a flurry of whispers. 

 

 

"Mr Donovan interested in her case?" a junior associate hissed to his colleague. "Is he out of his mind?" 

 

 

The colleague shook her head. "Seth has never lost a case. Why would he risk his perfect record on...her?" 

 

 

A paralegal leaned in. "Maybe he knows something we don't. Remember the Westside scandal? Everyone thought that was cut and dry until Seth got involved." 

 

 

"Still," another lawyer chimed in, "The Stones aren't just any family. They've got their fingers in every pie in this city. Seth's playing with fire." 

 

 

Near the reception, two older attorneys were engaged in a heated discussion. Each coming up with their own theory. 

 

 

"It's the trust fund," one of them said confidently. "That's the reason for all this drama. The 

Stones set up a hefty one when Isabella married Richard." 

 

 

His companion nodded. "Ah, that makes sense. They probably want to nullify it and claim she violated the terms. Classic rich people problems." 

 

 

As they neared the exit, Isabella overheard a final, chilling exchange. 

 

 

"You don't think...Mr Donovan could be in on it, do you?" a young intern whispered. 

 

 

Her supervisor raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" 

 

 

"Well, if Isabella really does know something damaging about the Stones...maybe Seth is trying to control the narrative. Keep it all hush-hush." 

 

 

The supervisor considered this. "Interesting theory. But Seth has always been a straight shooter. Then again, in this town, you never know..." 

 

"Ten bucks says he drops the case within a week," someone called out. 

 

 

"Twenty says the Stones crush him like a bug," another retorted. 

 

 

Just before they reached the door, Mr Garrett called out. "Mr Donovan, a word?" 

 

 

Seth nodded to Isabella. "Please, wait for me outside. I'll be with you shortly." 

 

 

As Isabella stepped out, she heard Mr Garrett's urgent whisper. "Seth, are you absolutely sure about this? There are rumours...things that could compromise—" 

 

 

"Thank you for your concern, Lawrence," Seth cut him off smoothly. "But I think I'll be the judge of that. Now, if you could excuse me, my prospective client is waiting."  

 

 

Outside, Isabella's mind struggled with what she'd heard. Trust funds, damaging information, hidden agendas – it was all so overwhelming. 

 

 

Seth joined her a moment later. "My car's this way," he said, gesturing down the street. "We'll have more privacy to discuss your case at my office."