Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Her heart began to beat faster in her chest as the cold fingers tightened around her mouth, muffling her breath. Panic surged through her, but she forced herself to stay still, her eyes darting around, searching for any escape. 

The hand that covered her mouth was strong and it didn't let go. 

"Do you understand me?" the voice growled again, this time more menacing, more urgent. "If you scream, you're next."

She nodded, though her body screamed in terror.

Am i going to die too?

The grip on her mouth loosened slightly, but only enough to let her breathe without gasping. "Good," the voice whispered. "Now, turn around slowly. Don't make a sound. We're leaving."

When Isabelle turned back, she froze.

"Alice?"

The woman stiffened at the sound of her name. Her cold, indifferent expression faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of recognition. Without a word, Alice grabbed Isabelle's wrist and led her out of the room.

Isabelle's mind raced, questions slamming against the walls of her consciousness. She killed someone. What the hell!

Alice pulled her into a restroom, her movements brisk and calculated. She checked each stall, ensuring they were alone, before finally releasing Isabelle's hand. The silence between them was heavy.

"Care to explain why there's a dead man in that room?" Isabelle demanded, her voice trembling. "And why my bodyguard is involved in this mess?"

Alice moved to the sink, running the tap as she scrubbed at the bloodstains on her clothing. Her calmness was unnerving, a stark contrast to the chaos in Isabelle's mind.

"It's not something I can explain to you," Alice said evenly, her tone almost mechanical.

"Are you serious right now?" Isabelle shot back, her voice rising. "You murdered someone in cold blood, and you're telling me you can't explain?"

 "Ma'am, you weren't supposed to be up there," she said, her voice firm but without malice.

Isabelle crossed her arms, her frustration boiling over. "I went up there because I thought a woman was in danger! She was being dragged away. Was that woman... you?"

Alice paused, her lips pressing into a thin line.

Realization dawned on Isabelle, but it brought no comfort. "You don't look like someone who was drugged or forced into anything," she said, her words biting. "What the hell is going on, Alice?"

Alice's movements were calm, her hands scrubbing at her bloodstained clothes. She didn't meet Isabelle's gaze. The sound of water flowing into the basin filled the room, almost drowning out the tension in the air.

"It's not as simple as you think," she said quietly.

"Then make it simple," Isabelle demanded. "Because right now, nothing about this makes sense, and I deserve to know the truth."

"The woman you saw… yes, it was me," Alice admitted, her voice calm yet firm. "But I wasn't drugged. I staged it to look that way."

Isabelle blinked, her mind reeling. "You staged it? You're telling me that everything I saw was… an act?"

"That's all I can tell you," Alice said bluntly. "And I strongly advise you not to meddle further."

Isabelle's throat tightened as her emotions swirled—concern, disbelief, and an undercurrent of fear. "Does Logan know about this?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Alice's expression didn't change, but her silence spoke volumes.

Instead, she walked to one of the restroom stalls, opened the door, and pulled out a garment bag. Without a word, she unzipped it and retrieved an outfit identical to the one she was wearing, spotless and untouched. 

As she began to change, Alice finally spoke, her tone calm but edged with warning. "Ma'am, I strongly advise you to stop asking questions about this. Mr. Logan won't be pleased if you get involved." 

"So, he is involved," Isabelle remarked quietly, her voice laced with unease. She had always sensed that Logan carried a dangerous aura. She also felt like Logann could be involved in things people won't consider ordinary. But this? This was far beyond anything she could have imagined.

What sort of man did I marry?

A chilling thought struck her, sending a shiver down her spine. If Logan discovered that she knew about what had happened, what would he do? To a man like Logan, she might be nothing more than a disposable inconvenience.

What will he do to me if he finds out?

She glanced at Alice, who had already changed into the clean outfit. Alice's efficiency, her lack of emotion, made Isabelle's unease deepen.

"Logan must not hear about this," Isabelle said firmly, desperation creeping into her tone. "He can't know that I'm aware of what happened."

Alice turned to her, her face impassive. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I am obligated to tell him everything," she replied, her voice devoid of emotion.

Isabelle felt the ground beneath her shift, her mind racing for a way to navigate this treacherous situation. I'll have to play my cards carefully, she thought.

Alice adjusted her mask and looked at Isabelle with an air of finality. "Ready to go, ma'am?"

"Yeah… let's go," Isabelle replied, her voice low.

As they returned to the party, Isabelle couldn't shake the weight pressing down on her. Alice slipped away into the crowd, leaving Isabelle to wrestle with her thoughts alone. She made a beeline for the bar, needing something—anything—to steady her nerves.

Just as Isabelle was about to place her order, a familiar voice called out behind her.

"Isabelle! There you are—I've been looking everywhere for you."

She turned to see a woman in an elegant gown that shimmered under the lights, her golden-brown hair cascading over her shoulders, enhancing her radiant appearance.

That must be Harley, Isabelle thought.

"How did you recognize me?" Isabelle asked, surprised.

Harley grinned. "I didn't have to. When I heard Logan showed up with a woman by his side, I just knew it had to be you. After that, it was just a matter of asking around."

"Oh…" Isabelle replied, her tone soft with understanding.

"What's with you? You look like you've seen a corpse," Harley said, raising an eyebrow as she sat down next to Isabelle.

Because I literally just saw a corpse, Isabelle thought but didn't say.

"I'm just exhausted," Isabelle replied with a forced smile. "These kinds of parties aren't really my thing."

Harley's face lit up. "Good thing you've got me to spice things up," she said with enthusiasm, waving over the bartender.

"Two martinis," Harley ordered confidently, then turned back to Isabelle.

"So, tell me, what's it like being Logan's wife? I'm curious," she asked, her gaze probing but friendly.

Isabelle sighed, her thoughts drifting. "Our marriage is more about business than pleasure," she answered, her voice flat.

The bartender returned with their drinks, and Isabelle quickly downed hers in one go.

"Whoa, take it easy, girl. The drink isn't going anywhere," Harley remarked with a smirk, clearly amused by Isabelle's sudden haste.

Isabelle wished she could erase the image of what she had witnessed earlier from her mind. 

But then, a scream cut through the air, drawing everyone's attention to the woman racing down the stairs. 

"There's a dead body upstairs!" she cried out in panic.

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd like a wave, the previously vibrant room falling into a tense hush. Isabelle froze, her hand gripping the now-empty glass tightly. Her heart raced as the words "dead body" echoed in her mind, the gruesome scene she had stumbled upon earlier flashing vividly before her eyes.

Harley's brows shot up in alarm. "What the hell?" she muttered, standing up abruptly. She glanced at Isabelle, her playful demeanor replaced by sharp concern. "Did you hear that?"

Isabelle forced herself to nod, her throat dry. "Yeah," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Someone should call the police," One exclaimed.

The atmosphere grew tenser, the guests exchanging uneasy glances. Some whispered in hushed tones. Isabelle's palms grew clammy.

Isabelle spotted Logan weaving through the crowd, his face expressionless. Alice must have told him, she thought.

When his gaze finally met hers, it softened for the briefest moment before hardening again. 

"Isabelle," he said, his deep voice cutting through the hushed murmurs of the room. "We need to leave." 

Isabelle's throat tightened, but she nodded. She turned to Harley. "We'll meet tomorrow."

"Sure thing, girl," Harley replied with a grin, offering a quick cheek kiss in farewell.

As Isabelle followed Logan out of the building, her mind raced, flooded with questions she didn't dare ask.The cool night air hit her face as they stepped outside, a stark contrast to the tension that had gripped the party.

The doorman opened the car door for them, and they slipped inside. The ride was silent, but Isabelle felt that the air was suddenly to difficult to breathe in.

"Alice told me what happened," Logan's voice broke the silence.

Isabelle's stomach sank. She turned to look at Logan, his face partially obscured by the shadows of the dimly lit car.

 "You don't need to explain. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time."