Chapter 88

Nathaniel would need to work much harder.

Meanwhile, Julian drove his sleek sports car toward Moon Studio.

Moon Studio was the most exclusive photography destination in Westchester, reserved for A-list celebrities and major international productions.

They were greeted immediately by Cassandra, the studio's formidable manager.

“Julian! So good to see you,” Cassandra beamed, her eyes already assessing Isabella.

“We need to use your space for a quick shoot. Hope it's not an inconvenience,” Julian said smoothly.

“None at all. Everything is at your disposal.” Cassandra’s gaze swept over Isabella with professional curiosity.

Julian led Isabella to the extensive wardrobe department.

She selected a simple avocado green dress and pulled her hair into a severe ponytail.

“I’m ready,” Isabella stated.

“No makeup? No stylist?” Julian asked, perplexed.

“No. Make me look completely average,” she instructed firmly, moving toward the plain white backdrop.

The backdrop was intentionally bland, almost clinical.

Julian couldn't comprehend her strategy. Most clients demanded glamour and perfection.

Victoria’s photos were always stunningly polished. Wasn't Isabella trying to compete?

“Is this some kind of reverse psychology move?”

“Do I look like I’m playing games?” Isabella retorted with a sharp glance.

“Just shoot it. Post them with minimal editing. You’ll understand in three days,” she added cryptically.

He knew better than to press her further. Isabella always had her reasons.

During the session, Isabella adopted deliberately casual poses.

She sat on the floor, feigned bored yawns, rested her chin on her hand.

Without makeup, her features looked ordinary. The unflattering dress made her blend into the background.

“Seriously, Isabella. You want these published?” Julian finally voiced his concern.

“Yes. Immediately. And remember, only basic edits.” She emphasized her point with a firm tap on his shoulder.

The exhausting session drained her. She hadn't pulled an all-nighter like this in ages.

Yawning repeatedly, she stepped out of the studio.

Suddenly, a black sports car screeched to a halt beside her.

The passenger door swung open, revealing a familiar muscular frame.

“What are you doing here?” Isabella asked, genuinely surprised.