Chapter Fifteen

Ms Isabella stuck her head into the bathroom, her eyes scanning the dimly lit space. She saw Victor standing in front of the mirror, his shirt off, his muscular chest and arms glistening with water.

She felt a surge of heat in her face and quickly looked away, but not before Victor caught her gaze in the reflection. He turned around, a surprised expression on his handsome face.

"Ms Isabella, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you knock," he said, reaching for a towel to cover himself. "Is there anything important that you want to tell me?"

Isabella cleared her throat, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Still staring at his wrapped up wet body she said.

"Actually, yes, there is something I need to talk to you about," she said, forcing herself to look him in the eye. "It's about the Gala night, I've spoken with the Johnsons they will be the one sponsoring most of the financing. They have some questions about the how promising the turnout for tonight's Gala event will be"

Victor frowned, his brow furrowing. He was not in the mood to talk about work right now, especially not with Isabella standing so close to him, in the bathroom looking so hot and tempting.

"Ma, please go away. I'll talk about this when I meet you in the living room. We can talk business there," he said to her, dismissing her immediately.

Isabella felt a pang of rejection in her chest. She had hoped that Victor would show some interest in her, or at least appreciate her efforts to help him with the Gala night. By doing as she wished for with the signs she had been showing but he seemed annoyed by her presence, and wanted her to leave as soon as possible.

"Ok, ok, it's just that the call was urgent," she said, trying to sound casual. "The Johnsons are very picky about the details, and they want to make sure everything is perfect for tonight."

She turned around and walked out of the bathroom, feeling dejected and embarrassed. She wondered if Victor ever noticed how she felt about him, or if he only saw her as a nuisance.

She closed the door behind her and leaned against the wall, sighing. She wished she could tell him how she really felt, but Victor clearly didn't seem interested, so she decided to focus on her work and forget about her feelings, at least for now.

She walked down the hallway, heading towards the living room. There, she saw a group of people waiting for her, dressed in elegant suits and dresses. They were the Johnsons, the wealthy family business that had sponsored most of the financing for the Gala night. They had arrived earlier than expected, and they looked impatient and annoyed.

"Ms Isabella, there you are. We've been waiting for you for a long time," said Mr Johnson, the head of the family. He was a tall, bald man with a stern face and a sharp voice. "We need to talk to you about the Gala night. We have some concerns about the arrangements and the guest list."

Ms Isabella felt a surge of panic in her chest. She had not expected the Johnsons to show up so soon, and she was not prepared to deal with them. She knew they were very demanding and difficult to please, and they had a lot of influence and power in the society. She had agreed to host the Gala night with their aid, hoping to boost her reputation and network, but she had not realized how much pressure and stress it would cause her.

She forced a smile and said, "Hello, Mr Johnson. I'm sorry for keeping you waiting. I was just talking to Victor, my partner for the Gala night. He's getting ready, and he'll join us shortly. Please, come in and make yourselves comfortable."

She gestured for them to follow her to the living room, where she had prepared some drinks and snacks for them. She hoped to appease them with some small talk and hospitality, until Victor arrived and helped her with the negotiations.

She led them to the couches and chairs, and offered them some refreshments. They took them with a polite nod, but they did not look impressed or satisfied. They looked around the living room, inspecting the furniture and the decorations, with a critical eye.

"Nice place you have here, Ms Isabella. Very lavish and extravagant," said Mrs Johnson, the wife of Mr Johnson. She was a thin, blonde woman with a fake smile and a high-pitched voice. "But I wonder, how can you afford such a lifestyle? I heard you're not doing so well in your business. Is that true?"

Ms Isabella felt a stab of anger and humiliation in her heart. She knew that Mrs Johnson was trying to provoke her and undermine her confidence. She had heard the rumors about her financial troubles, and she knew that they were partly true. She had invested a lot of money in her business, but she had not seen the returns she had expected. She was struggling to keep up with her expenses, and she had taken a huge risk by hosting the Gala night. She hoped that it would pay off, and that she would gain some new clients and contacts, but she also knew that it could backfire, and that she could lose everything.

She decided to ignore Mrs Johnson's remark, and said, "Thank you, Mrs Johnson. I'm glad you like my place. It's very cozy and comfortable. And no, I'm not doing badly in my business. I'm doing very well, actually. I have a lot of projects and opportunities lined up, and I'm very optimistic about the future."

She smiled confidently, hoping to convince them and herself. She knew that she had to put up a good front, and that she had to impress the Johnsons. They were her sponsors, and they had a lot of say in the Gala night. If they were not happy with her, they could ruin everything for her.

She looked at the other members of the Johnson family, who were sitting quietly and listening to the conversation. They were Mr and Mrs Johnson's two sons, and their wives. They were all young and attractive, and they looked bored and indifferent. They did not seem to care about the Gala night, or about Isabella. They were only there because their parents had dragged them along.

Ms Isabella tried to engage them in some conversation, and asked them about their interests and hobbies. They gave her some vague and polite answers, but they did not show any enthusiasm or curiosity. They looked at their phones, also at each other, and then lastly at the clock, as if they wanted to leave as soon as possible.

Ms Isabella's heart pounded with panic. The Johnsons' early arrival caught her off guard. Their reputation for being demanding and their societal influence intimidated her. She had agreed to host the Gala night with their support, hoping to enhance her reputation and network. However, she hadn't anticipated the stress it would bring.

"Hello, Mr Johnson," she greeted, forcing a smile. "Apologies for the wait. Victor, my partner for the Gala night, will join us shortly. Please, come in and make yourselves comfortable."

She led them to the living room, where drinks and snacks awaited. She hoped to keep them entertained with small talk and hospitality until Victor arrived.

As they settled on the couches, she offered refreshments. They accepted with a polite nod, their eyes critically scanning the room.

"Nice place you have here, Ms Isabella. Very lavish," Mrs Johnson commented, her voice high-pitched. "But I wonder, how can you afford such a lifestyle? I heard your business isn't doing well. Is that true?"

Ms Isabella felt a pang of humiliation. Mrs Johnson's words were a clear attempt to undermine her confidence. She knew the rumors about her financial troubles were partly true. Her business investments hadn't yielded the expected returns, and hosting the Gala night was a huge risk.

Ignoring Mrs Johnson's remark, she replied, "Thank you, Mrs Johnson. I'm glad you like my place. As for my business, it's doing quite well. I have several promising projects lined up."

She looked at the other members of the Johnson family, who were listening quietly. They were Mr and Mrs Johnson's two sons and their wives. Young and attractive, they seemed indifferent to the Gala night and to Isabella. They were there only because their parents had insisted.

Isabella's soul was filled with frustration and despair. She felt she was wasting her time and energy on the Johnsons. They seemed interested only in their own benefits. They had imposed numerous conditions for sponsoring the Gala night, making her life difficult without offering any support or appreciation.

Deciding to confront them, she said, "Mr and Mrs Johnson, I appreciate your involvement in the Gala night. However, I have some requests and suggestions that I believe we should consider. After all, this is a joint venture, and we should work together as a team."

Their response was dismissive. "Ms Isabella, we don't need your requests or suggestions. We are the sponsors, and we have the final say in everything," Mr Johnson retorted coldly.

Isabella felt a surge of anger. They treated her like a puppet, showing no respect for her as a person or a professional. She decided to stand up for herself. "Mr Johnson, I don't understand why you are so harsh and unreasonable. I've worked hard to make the Gala night a success. And this is how you repay me? By insulting and humiliating me?"

Mrs Johnson responded shrilly, "Ms Isabella, how dare you question our authority and our decisions? How dare you forget your place and your role?"

Isabella looked at them, a mix of anger and sadness in her eyes, waiting for an apology that never came.

"Ms Isabella, tread carefully," they warned. "Your words, actions, and choices have consequences. We hold the power to shape your life, your career, your reputation, and your dreams. We expect nothing less than obedience and submission. Do you understand?"

Their gaze was a mix of warning and challenge. They expected her to surrender, to comply. But she didn't. She met their gaze with courage and pride.

"Mr and Mrs Johnson, I understand your power and influence," she responded. "I understand you can shape my life and career. But I also understand that you can't make me something I'm not. I refuse to be obedient and submissive. I strive to be independent, assertive, creative, innovative, respected, and appreciated. I want to be myself, not your puppet. I'm willing to fight for what I want. Do you understand?"

Her gaze was defiant and determined. She hoped for respect and acceptance. But they responded with anger and disbelief.

"Ms Isabella, you're making a grave mistake by challenging us, by choosing yourself over us," they retorted. "You'll regret this for the rest of your life. We won't let you have what you want."

She wished for Victor's presence, for his support in this awkward situation, and so she glanced at the door severally, hoping to see him walk in. But he didn't.

"He probably was still in the bathroom, probably preoccupied. " Ms Isabella muttered to herself in a low tone still staring at the door waiting for victor to walk in.