It wasn't a confrontation—it was an ambush.
Lilith had just opened the café for the morning. Sunlight filtered through the windows, casting quiet gold across the shelves. The usual rhythm comforted her: the hiss of the espresso machine, the scent of paper and roast.
Then the bell rang.
Lilith looked up, already smiling, and froze.
The woman who entered was stunning in that way money often was. Impeccably dressed. Impeccably poised. Her heels barely made a sound on the wooden floor.
Lilith didn't know her.
But something about her presence set Lilith's nerves on edge.
"Good morning," Lilith offered cautiously.
"I'm not here for coffee." The woman's voice was crisp, polished like steel.
Lilith blinked. "I'm sorry—have we met?"
"We haven't," Isabella said, stepping forward. "But I know exactly who you are."
Lilith's heart skipped.
"You're Lilith Lane. Or is it L. Morgan? Or whatever name you used when you were helping destroy Harold Sterling's empire."
The café suddenly felt too quiet.
Lilith stiffened. "Who are you?"
"I'm someone who cares about Arnold Blaze. Which is more than I can say for you."
Something cold slipped down Lilith's spine.
"I don't know what you think you know, but—"
"I know enough," Isabella interrupted. "I know your past is full of lies. I know you've gotten close to Arnold under false pretenses. And I know whatever little game you're playing ends now."
Lilith's expression hardened. "You've been spying on me."
"No," Isabella said calmly. "I've been protecting someone who doesn't realize he's being manipulated."
Lilith stepped out from behind the counter. "You're wrong about me."
"Am I?" Isabella raised a brow. "You kept your past hidden until it suited you. You waited until he was invested, until there was something to gain. That's not trust. That's leverage."
"I told him everything," Lilith said. "Last night. Because I owed him the truth."
Isabella studied her, surprised. "And what did he say?"
Lilith's lips parted, then closed. "Nothing that concerns you."
"Oh, but it does," Isabella said, voice colder now. "Because if you think he's going to protect you—if you think a man like Arnold Blaze gambles on broken women with dangerous pasts—you're more naive than I thought."
Lilith's breath hitched. But she didn't back down.
"I'm not asking for his protection. I'm not asking for anything. I just want to live a life that's mine. That's all."
Isabella looked at her for a long, unreadable beat.
Then she smiled, just faintly. "You're in over your head. And trust me—Arnold may seem intrigued now, but once he sees you for what you really are, he'll cut you loose like everyone else."
She turned on her heel and walked to the door, then paused.
"Enjoy your little café. While it lasts."
The bell jingled.
Lilith stood frozen for a long moment, heart hammering, hands trembling—but not from fear.
From rage.
From shame.
And somewhere, beneath all of it, from a pain that felt almost like heartbreak.
Because Isabella wasn't wrong.
Arnold hadn't said he trusted her.
Not yet.
And maybe… he never would.