Whispers and Doubts

With her art now gaining recognition, Isabella found herself in unfamiliar territory—**private showings, media attention, and collectors suddenly taking an interest.** For years, she had struggled to get even a single critic to notice her work. Now, invitations flooded her inbox. Journalists reached out for interviews. People who had once ignored her paintings now wanted to own them.

It should have felt like a dream come true.

Instead, it felt like walking through a minefield.

At her first major art event, hosted at an exclusive gallery uptown, she could feel the weight of curious gazes on her. The room was filled with powerful names in the art world, sipping champagne and murmuring behind the rims of their glasses.

She kept her expression poised as she made her way through the crowd. But then, near the marble staircase, she heard them.

Two women, dressed in designer gowns, speaking in hushed but unmistakably cruel voices.

“She’s just another gold-digger.”

The words made Isabella’s footsteps falter.

“Obviously,” the other woman scoffed. “Why else would Alexander be so invested in her?”

A sharp pang shot through Isabella’s chest.

She should have walked away. She should have ignored them, pretended their words didn’t matter.

But they did.

She forced herself to stay through the rest of the evening, her smile practiced, her posture unwavering. But the whispers **clung to her like a stain** long after the event ended.

That night, she stormed into Alexander’s office, barely knocking before pushing the door open.

He was sitting at his desk, flipping through documents, his tie slightly loosened from the long day. When he looked up and saw her expression, his brow furrowed.

“What happened?”

She closed the door behind her, arms crossed tightly. “People think I’m using you for your money.”

He exhaled sharply and leaned back in his chair. “That again?”

She blinked. “Again?”

He set his papers down. “It’s not the first time people have made assumptions about me.”

She frowned. “And you don’t care?”

His lips curved into a humorless smirk. “I learned a long time ago not to waste time on other people’s opinions.”

Isabella’s stomach twisted. It was easy for him to say.

She wasn’t born into power like he was. She hadn’t built an empire, made her name untouchable.

“I worked hard for this,” she said, her voice quieter now. “And yet all they see is… you.”

Alexander studied her for a long moment. “Does it matter?”

The question caught her off guard.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Did it?

Before she could answer, he added, “You know the truth. I know the truth. Why let their words shake you?”

She hesitated, her fingers tightening at her sides. “Because part of me wonders…” She swallowed. “What if they’re right?”

Something in his expression shifted. His smirk faded.

“You’re not ‘with’ me at all,” he pointed out. His voice was calm, but there was something sharp beneath the surface.

She hesitated. “And if I were?”

Alexander didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched between them.

Then, his gaze darkened. “Then I’d have to wonder… are they right?”

Her breath caught in her throat.

There it was. The doubt.

Not in the whispers of strangers.

In him.

It sent a cold, unsettling feeling through her.

She had expected Alexander to be indifferent. She had expected reassurance, sarcasm, or even amusement.

But not this.

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