Chapter 16 The Masks We Wear

• The opulent one was a cage. Not a cage of bars and iron, but a bejeweled one, a cage of silk and champagne, polished marble, and fancy furniture. Isabelle felt trapped within its bejeweled walls, an internee of her mother's ambition. Her mother Gina, a woman who wore her despair like a second skin had orchestrated this entire facade in pursuit of a life she thought was good, a life she had always craved. A life that came with a hefty price label, a price label her daughter was now anticipated to pay.
• Liam was handsome, incontrovertibly so, with a sharp jawline and eyes that could pierce through the toughest of defenses. But behind those eyes, Isabelle tasted a dispassionateness, a detachment, a wall strictly erected over times of power and success. He was a stranger, and yet, she was anticipated to become his wife.
• Liam was a constant presence in her life, his presence a heavy weight she carried with her. He treated her with the courtesy anticipated of a high-ranking gentleman, but there was no warmth, no genuine connection. He infrequently touched her, except for the occasional formal handshake or the obligatory brief clinch in front of others. Isabelle knew he was apprehensive of her passions, his dispassionateness a glass reflecting her own.