The first time she met him, she couldn’t even imagine just how far-reaching the consequences of this event would be.

***

It was a summer day, warm and sunny, yet Isabella Alvarez was in a bad mood. A volatile mix of cold anger, righteous fury, sorrow, and loss, multiplied by the fiery temper of That Alvarez Woman, wasn’t something that most people would like to face.

She just finished her prayers on the grave of her younger brother; no wonder she wasn’t happy. Not happy at all.

And now she chose to take a stroll through the cemetery, trying to sort out her thoughts and emotions before blowing up in the face of some unlucky bodyguard.

It wouldn't be the first time, either.

Why was someone like her able to survive when someone like Miguel had to die? This question kept her awake late at night more often than she would’ve been comfortable acknowledging.

‘Just a bit more, brother. I’ll find those bastards, make them pay, and then I’ll join you. Sister won’t make you wait for too long.’

Just as this thought flashed inside her head, her eyes showed her something she wasn’t ready to see.

The figure stood in front of her. A boy in his teens. About the same height. Same unruly black hair.

“Miguel?” She couldn’t help but call out.

The boy turned around, and the illusion completely crumbled. For all her bias, Miguel was never that handsome. Nor was there ever such a blank expression on his face, coupled with complete apathy in his brown eyes.

He didn’t react, at least not outwardly, to the way she called him. A silence prolonged as those cold brown eyes scanned across her, stopping at her face.

“My name is Michael, not Miguel.” The boy finally said something. “Michael Roah.”

With that out of the way, he nodded and turned around, about to leave.

Roah. She recognized the family name. She heard about Leon Roah, the marriage con artist. After rummaging through her memory a bit more, she remembered the fact that he had recently died.

Isabella Alvarez wasn’t sure what led her to do what she did next. It was a completely uncalled-for, unhinged idea. Crazy even by her standards.

“Hey, wait, please,” she called out.

What if he was similar to his father?

The boy, who looked a lot like Miguel, was different enough at the same time. Wouldn’t he be an interesting toy to play around with for a while?

Yes, she usually preferred female company, but would it hurt to try this once?

And she was ready to pay for it.

***

Just as she hoped, the boy agreed to her proposal. Just as she expected, he was incredibly talented in this line of work. Against all odds, she found herself drawn to him more and more.

Even though she had stopped seeing Miguel in him shortly after, Michael Roah, the impossibly handsome boy with an apathetic gaze, wormed his way into her broken heart.

She had to make a choice and make it soon; the sooner, the better. If she wanted to cut this boy, it must’ve been done now, while it’s not too late.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

***

Three months later, she came to a decision. Isabella Alvarez couldn’t allow herself to have such an obvious weakness. Even if her heart had to be broken once more, it was time to say goodbye to the boy who somehow managed to occupy it.

Today was the last day. It was the last meeting they would ever have. Today, she would say farewell to him and go back to her old ways. Alone.

She looked at the time. Michael Roah always arrived five minutes earlier. He was never late. He hated to be late. With unexplainable passion.

Yet, the clock on her smartphone showed fifteen minutes past the promised time, but the boy was nowhere to be seen.

Did something happen to him? She fought down the urge to call him. She could wait.

And so she did. A further fifteen minutes passed by. And then once more. And a third time, adding up to an hour already. Then another hour passed by. And then a few more.

It was as clear as a day. Isabella Alvarez, That Alvarez Woman, was stood up by her date. The boy toy she was about to cut off, no less.

And it stung. Enough to make her broken heart ache.

***

Isabella Alvarez wasn’t happy today. Far from it. Being an information broker, one of the best in this thrice-damned city, came with some downsides.

For example, she couldn’t help but hear most of the rumors going around. Usually, it was akin to white noise for her—something to quickly filter out and forget about.

But this particular one decided to occupy her head, and it definitely hasn't been planning to pay rent for that either.

‘There is an unknown youth who keeps showing up at high-society events with a different partner every time.’

And this rumor, as trivial as it was, irritated her to no end. From the description of the youth, she easily recognized who it was. Michael Roah.

A myriad of questions swarmed her mind. Who? When? What?

Why? Yes, why?

Why was he doing all of that? Why couldn’t she find him?

And the most important of them all: why not me?

She looked down at the paper report on her table, crumpled it, and threw it into the trash can.

Isabella Alvarez wasn’t happy today. Not happy at all.

***

The sound of an intercom disturbed her date with a bottle of red wine. And it irritated her even more.

She still picked it up, half curious to see who it was and half anticipating the moment she could let her steam by berating the unlucky sod that was on the other end.

“It’s me.” She heard a familiar voice as Michael Roah smiled into the camera.

She wasn’t sure why she did it, but she pressed the button to open the door for him. Maybe she was curious to hear what he was about to say? Or was it the desire to see him once again? Both? Something else altogether?

She didn’t bother to wear something else. Her favorite silk robe would suffice. This would also be a great reminder about how much he is missing out on.

It was a petty move, sure, but her pride wouldn’t let her just let it go.

The doorbell rang, and, with a deliberate slowness, she went to open the door, absentmindedly noting the noticeable change in the boy.

His blank expression and apathy in his gaze went away, leaving behind a sincere, if a bit roguish, smile that reached his eyes. It looked like Michael Roah was just as talented in acting as he was in pretty much everything else.

‘In everything that he deemed interesting,’ she corrected herself.

“What wind brought you tonight to this poor old woman’s place?” she said, while doing her best to put as much sarcasm and obvious mockery into her tone.

“Interest.” His smile didn’t even falter as he responded.

Ah, yes. Interest. The loaded term he used whenever and wherever he needed to express something personal to someone who wasn’t him. As well as the driving force behind most of his decisions.

She had him explain it in detail to her, but she wasn’t sure if she actually understood him correctly, or even if it were possible for anyone who wasn’t Michael Roah to fully comprehend the entire meaning.

And, once again, she had to make a choice. Should she let him in or laugh in his face and chase him away?

***

Was the way she remembered it all accurate? If she asked him, would his story be the same? What were the details that were glossed over after years had passed?

And was it really so important when the choice she had made at that time was evident?

She had no idea.