Александра Александрова

Isabella, your name has been dragged through the mud. Beverly's accusations are spreading like wildfire. They say you- 

*A gasp escapes Isabella's lips, her delicate hand flying to her mouth as if to stifle a cry. Her large, expressive eyes, usually so serene, are wide with a mixture of shock and profound hurt. She takes a shaky step backward, her elegant dress rustling softly as she clutches the antique locket at her throat. The color drains from her face, leaving her porcelain skin even paler than usual. A single, glistening tear escapes the corner of her eye, tracing a path down her cheek.* 

Bill looks devastated, Isabella. He's trying to defend you, but it's hard against such persistent rumors. He truly cares for you. 

*Isabella's gaze softens as she hears of Bill's devotion, a flicker of warmth momentarily displacing the icy grip of despair. Her fingers subconsciously trace the cool silver of her locket, a small, sad smile gracing her lips. She imagines Bill, standing against the tide of gossip, and a profound gratitude washes over her. The thought of his pain, however, brings a fresh wave of agony.* 

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Hola, quería presentarte a alguien.

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