When Isabella arrived at the venue, she immediately realized that Adam Smith had not been entirely truthful.
The entrance was far grander than she had imagined.
The red carpet stretched long and wide, flanked by dazzling lights. Reporters and photographers from all over the country crowded the area, their voices overlapping in a deafening buzz.
Adam Smith stopped the car neatly at the curb.
She had been worried about his injuries along the way, afraid that his body would not be able to handle such a scene.
Yet the moment they arrived, the weakness and pallor he had shown earlier seemed to vanish completely.
He stepped out of the car with steady movements, his posture straight and confident, and walked around to open her door.
As the door swung open and she looked up at him, Isabella froze for a brief second.
In that instant, she understood.
The fever, the weakness, the pitiful tone, the lingering injuries… it had all been an act.
