“She’s not your friend. She’s my journalist.”

Marcus Sterling said it again, louder this time.

Louder, so every customer in Sunny’s Diner, in Queens, New York, could hear him.

Louder, so Mr. Earl Johnson, sixty-eight, janitor, could hear him.

Louder, so Lily Chen, twenty-two, student waitress, could hear him.

Louder, so Mr. Harold Greene, fifty-five, diner manager, could hear him.

Louder, so “Bella,” thirty-eight, in disguise, in worn jeans, in a faded sweater, in old shoes, with no makeup, with no jewelry, a poor waitress, named Bella, in Queens, New York, who was, secretly, Isabella Hart, rich, owner, of Hart Fashion Group, worth, three billion dollars, in New York, in Manhattan, in a penthouse, with a view, of Central Park, could hear him, and could feel, her heart, break, in Sunny’s Diner, that morning, because Marcus Sterling, her former fiancé, forty, a businessman, a man, who had, left, Isabella Hart, three weeks ago, after Isabella Hart, told Marcus Sterling, “Marcus, I want, to test, Marcus, if you, love me, Marcus, or my money, Marcus, by pretending, Marcus, to be poor, Marcus, for thirty days, Marcus,” a man, who had, laughed, without humor, and said, “Isabella, don’t be, ridiculous, Isabella, I love, you, Isabella, but I, also, love, your money, Isabella,” a man, who had, tracked, Isabella Hart, to Queens, New York, to Sunny’s Diner, to “Bella,” a poor waitress, with old shoes, with a backpack, that looked, empty, a man, who now, stood, in Sunny’s Diner, that morning, pointing, at Maria Santos, thirty-four, single mother, waitress, in Sunny’s Diner, for five years, a woman, who had, shared, her sandwich, with “Bella,” every day, for three weeks, a woman, who had, offered, “Bella,” a couch, to sleep, on, every night, for three weeks, when “Bella,” pretended, to be cold, in her apartment, above, a laundromat, in Queens, a woman, who had, just taken, five hundred dollars, from “Bella,” that morning, in Sunny’s Diner, for Leo, seven, sick, with asthma, for Leo’s medicine, that cost, five hundred dollars, a month, a woman, who had, just run, to the pharmacy, with Leo, in her arms, coughing, wheezing, struggling, to breathe, with five hundred dollars, in her hand, with “Bella’s,” kindness, in her heart, a woman, who Marcus Sterling, now, accused, of being, a journalist, hired, by Marcus Sterling, to expose, Isabella Hart, pretending, to be poor, in Queens, as Bella, for a story, in a magazine, about, a rich woman, who pretended, to be poor, to find, true friends, a woman, who Marcus Sterling, claimed, had been, recording, “Bella,” for three weeks, in Sunny’s Diner, in Queens, a woman, who Marcus Sterling, claimed, would, publish, that story, tomorrow, unless Isabella Hart, returned, to Manhattan, today, right now, and married, Marcus Sterling, again, and gave, Marcus Sterling, half, of Hart Fashion Group, worth, three billion dollars, in New York, in Manhattan, in a penthouse, with a view, of Central Park.

“Bella,” stared, at Marcus Sterling, for a long moment, without speaking, as if “Bella,” were seeing, a ghost, as if “Bella,” were seeing, a stranger, as if “Bella,” were seeing, a man, she had, loved, for two years, a man, who had, proposed, to her, in Paris, with a ring, worth, one million dollars, a man, who had, left, her, three weeks ago, because she, wanted, to test, if he, loved her, or her money, a man, who now, stood, in Sunny’s Diner, in Queens, New York, accusing, her first, true friend, in ten years, Maria Santos, of being, a journalist, hired, by him, to expose, her, pretending, to be poor, in Queens, as Bella, for a story, in a magazine, a man, who wanted, “Bella,” to believe, Maria Santos, was not, a true friend, a man, who wanted, “Bella,” to doubt, Maria Santos, a woman, who had, shared, her sandwich, with “Bella,” every day, for three weeks, a woman, who had, offered, “Bella,” a couch, every night, for three weeks, a woman, who had, just taken, five hundred dollars, from “Bella,” that morning, for Leo’s medicine, a woman, who “Bella,” believed, was, a true friend, who loved, “Bella,” for nothing, for no money, for no fame, just, for Bella, herself, a waitress, who was, kind, who was, funny, who was, lonely, in Queens, in Sunny’s Diner, in a life, that felt, real, for the first time, in ten years, for Isabella Hart, rich, owner, of Hart Fashion Group, worth, three billion dollars, in New York, in Manhattan, in a penthouse, with a view, of Central Park, where Isabella Hart, had, fifty, friends, who loved, her money, more, than her, and “Bella,” had, three, true friends, in Sunny’s Diner, in Queens, Maria Santos, Mr. Earl Johnson, Lily Chen, who loved, “Bella,” for nothing, for no money, for no fame, just, for Bella, herself.

Three Hours Earlier
Three hours earlier, “Bella,” had been, happy.

Truly happy, for the first time, in ten years, in Manhattan, in parties, in penthouses, in a world, full, of people, who loved, her money, more, than her.

Three hours earlier, “Bella,” had, given, Maria Santos, five hundred dollars, for Leo’s medicine, that morning, in Sunny’s Diner, in Queens, New York, and Maria Santos, had, run, to the pharmacy, with Leo, in her arms, coughing, wheezing, struggling, to breathe, with five hundred dollars, in her hand, with “Bella’s,” kindness, in her heart, and “Bella,” had, watched, Maria Santos, run, to the pharmacy, with Leo, until Maria Santos, disappeared, up Main Street, in Queens, New York, into the morning, into the unknown, into a future, where Maria Santos, would, tell “Bella,” her secret, tomorrow, at Sunny’s Diner, at the same time, where “Bella,” would, tell Maria Santos, her secret, tomorrow, at Sunny’s Diner, at the same time, where both, women, would, learn, the truth, about each other, about friendship, about money, about love, about a test, for true friends, for thirty days, in Queens, New York, as “Bella,” a poor waitress, with old shoes, with a backpack, that looked, empty.

Three hours earlier, “Bella,” had, thought, the hard part, was over.

“Bella,” had, thought, giving, Maria Santos, five hundred dollars, for Leo’s medicine, was the ending.

“Bella,” had, thought, sharing, a sandwich, cut, in half, every day, for three weeks, was the happy ending.

“Bella,” was wrong.

The hard part, was not, giving, Maria Santos, five hundred dollars, for Leo’s medicine.

The hard part, was believing, Maria Santos, was a true friend, when Marcus Sterling, said, Maria Santos, was a journalist, hired, by Marcus Sterling, to expose, “Bella,” pretending, to be poor, in Queens, as Bella, for a story, in a magazine, about, a rich woman, who pretended, to be poor, to find, true friends, a hard part, that had, just begun, three hours later, when Marcus Sterling, walked, into Sunny’s Diner, in Queens, New York, with a black car, outside, on Main Street, with a folder, with papers, with a smile, that was not kind, that was business, that was cruel, and said, loudly, clearly, so every customer, in Sunny’s Diner, could hear him, so Mr. Earl Johnson, could hear him, so Lily Chen, could hear him, so Mr. Harold Greene, could hear him, so “Bella,” could hear him, “Isabella, I found you, Isabella. Isabella, your company, Isabella, Hart Fashion Group, Isabella, is in crisis, Isabella, the board, Isabella, will vote, Isabella, tomorrow, Isabella, to remove you, Isabella, as CEO, Isabella, unless you, Isabella, return, Isabella, to Manhattan, Isabella, today, Isabella, right now, Isabella, and Isabella, your best friend, Isabella, here, Isabella, in Sunny’s Diner, Isabella, Maria Santos, Isabella, is not, Isabella, who you think, Isabella, she is, Isabella, Maria Santos, Isabella, is actually, Isabella, a journalist, Isabella, hired, Isabella, by me, Isabella, Marcus Sterling, Isabella, to expose, Isabella, you, Isabella.”

The Woman Who Came Back From The Pharmacy
Maria Santos, came back, from the pharmacy, that morning, in Sunny’s Diner, in Queens, New York, with Leo, seven, breathing, easier, after his medicine, with five hundred dollars, spent, on Leo’s medicine, with tears, in her eyes, with gratitude, in her heart, for “Bella,” a poor waitress, named Bella, who had, given, Maria Santos, five hundred dollars, that morning, in Sunny’s Diner, for Leo’s medicine, a poor waitress, who Maria Santos, believed, had, saved, five hundred dollars, from tips, in Sunny’s Diner, for three weeks, to give, to Maria Santos, for Leo’s medicine, today, because “Bella,” was, a true friend, who loved, Maria Santos, for nothing, for no money, for no fame, just, for Maria Santos, herself, a single mother, a waitress, in Sunny’s Diner, in Queens, New York, with a son, Leo, seven, sick, with asthma, with medicine, that cost, five hundred dollars, a month.

Maria Santos, walked, into Sunny’s Diner, that morning, with Leo, holding her hand, smiling, for the first time, that day, for the first time, in weeks, because Leo, could breathe, because Leo, had his medicine, because “Bella,” had, given, Maria Santos, five hundred dollars, that morning, in Sunny’s Diner, for Leo’s medicine, and Maria Santos, saw, Marcus Sterling, standing, in Sunny’s Diner, pointing, at Maria Santos, accusing, Maria Santos, of being, a journalist, hired, by Marcus Sterling, to expose, “Bella,” pretending, to be poor, in Queens, as Bella, for a story, in a magazine, and Maria Santos, stopped, in the doorway, of Sunny’s Diner, with Leo, holding her hand, with tears, in her eyes, with anger, in her heart, with truth, on her lips, a truth, Maria Santos, had, kept, secret, for three weeks, a truth, Maria Santos, would, finally, say, out loud, in Sunny’s Diner, in Queens, New York, in front of Marcus Sterling, in front of “Bella,” in front of Mr. Earl Johnson, in front of Lily Chen, in front of Mr. Harold Greene, in front of every customer, in Sunny’s Diner, that morning, a truth, that would, change everything, for “Bella,” for Maria Santos, for Leo, for Sunny’s Diner, in Queens, New York, forever, if Maria Santos, was brave enough, to say it, out loud, in front of Marcus Sterling, a man, who had, offered, Maria Santos, fifty thousand dollars, two weeks ago, to lie, about “Bella,” to record, “Bella,” pretending, to be poor, in Queens, as Bella, for a story, in a magazine, a man, who Maria Santos, had, refused, two weeks ago, in Sunny’s Diner, in Queens, New York, saying, “Mr. Sterling, I, will not, lie, Mr. Sterling, about Bella, Mr. Sterling, Bella, is my friend, Mr. Sterling, Bella, shared, my sandwich, Mr. Sterling, Bella, gave, me, five hundred dollars, Mr. Sterling, for Leo’s medicine, Mr. Sterling, Bella, is a true friend, Mr. Sterling, and Mr. Sterling, I, will not, sell, Mr. Sterling, my friend, Mr. Sterling, for fifty thousand dollars, Mr. Sterling, or for any money, Mr. Sterling, in the world, Mr. Sterling.”

Maria Santos, walked, toward Marcus Sterling, in Sunny’s Diner, that morning, holding Leo’s hand, holding her phone, in her other hand, with a text, from Marcus Sterling, two weeks ago, offering, Maria Santos, fifty thousand dollars, to lie, about “Bella,” to record, “Bella,” pretending, to be poor, in Queens, as Bella, for a story, in a magazine, a text, that Maria Santos, had, kept, for two weeks, in her phone, as proof, that Marcus Sterling, tried, to buy, Maria Santos, a text, that Maria Santos, now, held up, in Sunny’s Diner, that morning, to Marcus Sterling, to “Bella,” to Mr. Earl Johnson, to Lily Chen, to Mr. Harold Greene, to every customer, in Sunny’s Diner, that morning, and said, loudly, clearly, bravely, so every person, in Sunny’s Diner, could hear her, so Marcus Sterling, could hear her, so “Bella,” could hear her, so Leo, could hear her, so Mr. Earl Johnson, could hear her, so Lily Chen, could hear her:

“Mr. Sterling, you are lying, Mr. Sterling. Mr. Sterling, I, am not, Mr. Sterling, your journalist, Mr. Sterling. Mr. Sterling, I, am a waitress, Mr. Sterling, in Sunny’s Diner, Mr. Sterling, in Queens, Mr. Sterling, for five years, Mr. Sterling, a single mother, Mr. Sterling, of Leo, Mr. Sterling, seven, Mr. Sterling, sick, Mr. Sterling, with asthma, Mr. Sterling. Mr. Sterling, two weeks ago, Mr. Sterling, you, Mr. Sterling, offered me, Mr. Sterling, fifty thousand dollars, Mr. Sterling, to lie, Mr. Sterling, about Bella, Mr. Sterling, to record, Mr. Sterling, Bella, Mr. Sterling, pretending, Mr. Sterling, to be poor, Mr. Sterling, in Queens, Mr. Sterling, as Bella, Mr. Sterling, for a story, Mr. Sterling, in a magazine, Mr. Sterling, and Mr. Sterling, I, Mr. Sterling, refused, Mr. Sterling, you, Mr. Sterling, because Mr. Sterling, Bella, Mr. Sterling, is my friend, Mr. Sterling, Bella, Mr. Sterling, shared, Mr. Sterling, my sandwich, Mr. Sterling, Bella, Mr. Sterling, gave me, Mr. Sterling, five hundred dollars, Mr. Sterling, for Leo’s medicine, Mr. Sterling, this morning, Mr. Sterling, in Sunny’s Diner, Mr. Sterling, and Mr. Sterling, I, Mr. Sterling, will not, Mr. Sterling, sell, Mr. Sterling, my friend, Mr. Sterling, for fifty thousand dollars, Mr. Sterling, or for any money, Mr. Sterling, in the world, Mr. Sterling. Mr. Sterling, here is, Mr. Sterling, your text, Mr. Sterling, offering me, Mr. Sterling, fifty thousand dollars, Mr. Sterling, to lie, Mr. Sterling, about Bella, Mr. Sterling, and Mr. Sterling, Bella, Mr. Sterling, I, Mr. Sterling, am sorry, Mr. Sterling, I, Mr. Sterling, did not tell you, Mr. Sterling, about Mr. Sterling’s offer, Mr. Sterling, two weeks ago, Mr. Sterling, because Mr. Sterling, I, Mr. Sterling, was afraid, Mr. Sterling, Mr. Sterling, would hurt, Mr. Sterling, you, Mr. Sterling, Bella, Mr. Sterling, would hurt, Mr. Sterling, Leo, Mr. Sterling, would hurt, Mr. Sterling, me, Mr. Sterling, but Mr. Sterling, Bella, Mr. Sterling, I, Mr. Sterling, am telling you, Mr. Sterling, now, Mr. Sterling, in Sunny’s Diner, Mr. Sterling, in front of Mr. Sterling, Mr. Sterling, himself, Mr. Sterling, because Mr. Sterling, Bella, Mr. Sterling, you, Mr. Sterling, are my friend, Mr. Sterling, Bella, Mr. Sterling, and Mr. Sterling, friends, Mr. Sterling, do not, Mr. Sterling, lie, Mr. Sterling, to each other, Mr. Sterling, friends, Mr. Sterling, tell, Mr. Sterling, the truth, Mr. Sterling, even when, Mr. Sterling, the truth, Mr. Sterling, is scary, Mr. Sterling, even when, Mr. Sterling, the truth, Mr. Sterling, could hurt, Mr. Sterling, a friend, Mr. Sterling, like you, Mr. Sterling, Bella, Mr. Sterling.”

“Bella,” stared, at Maria Santos, for a long moment, without speaking, as if “Bella,” were seeing, a ghost, as if “Bella,” were seeing, an angel, as if “Bella,” were seeing, a true friend, who had, refused, fifty thousand dollars, to lie, about “Bella,” a true friend, who had, shared, her sandwich, with “Bella,” every day, for three weeks, a true friend, who had, offered, “Bella,” a couch, every night, for three weeks, a true friend, who had, just taken, five hundred dollars, from “Bella,” that morning, for Leo’s medicine, a true friend, who “Bella,” believed, was, a true friend, who loved, “Bella,” for nothing, for no money, for no fame, just, for Bella, herself, a waitress, who was, kind, who was, funny, who was, lonely, in Queens, in Sunny’s Diner, in a life, that felt, real, for the first time, in ten years, for Isabella Hart, rich, owner, of Hart Fashion Group, worth, three billion dollars, in New York, in Manhattan, in a penthouse, with a view, of Central Park, where Isabella Hart, had, fifty, friends, who loved, her money, more, than her, and “Bella,” had, three, true friends, in Sunny’s Diner, in Queens, Maria Santos, Mr. Earl Johnson, Lily Chen, who loved, “Bella,” for nothing, for no money, for no fame, just, for Bella, herself, and “Bella,” cried, quietly, in Sunny’s Diner, that morning, because “Bella,” had, finally, proven, to herself, that Maria Santos, was, a true friend, who had, refused, fifty thousand dollars, to lie, about “Bella,” a true friend, who had, shared, her sandwich, with “Bella,” every day, for three weeks, a true friend, who had, offered, “Bella,” a couch, every night, for three weeks, a true friend, who “Bella,” could, trust, with her secret, that “Bella,” was Isabella Hart, rich, owner, of Hart Fashion Group, worth, three billion dollars, in New York, in Manhattan, in a penthouse, with a view, of Central Park, a secret, that “Bella,” would, now, tell Maria Santos, that morning, in Sunny’s Diner, in Queens, New York, in front of Marcus Sterling, in front of Mr. Earl Johnson, in front of Lily Chen, in front of Mr. Harold Greene, in front of every customer, in Sunny’s Diner, that morning, because “Bella,” believed, Maria Santos, was, a true friend, who would, not sell, “Bella,” for fifty thousand dollars, who would, not sell, “Bella,” for any money, in the world, who would, love, “Bella,” for nothing, for no money, for no fame, just, for Bella, herself, even, after “Bella,” told Maria Santos, the truth, about Isabella Hart, about Hart Fashion Group, about three billion dollars, about a test, for true friends, for thirty days, in Queens, New York, as “Bella,” a poor waitress, with old shoes, with a backpack, that looked, empty.

The Truth She Told Her Friend
“Bella,” took, Maria Santos’s hand, in Sunny’s Diner, that morning, in front of Marcus Sterling, in front of Mr. Earl Johnson, in front of Lily Chen, in front of Mr. Harold Greene, in front of every customer, in Sunny’s Diner, that morning, and said, quietly, clearly, bravely, so every person, in Sunny’s Diner, could hear her, so Marcus Sterling, could hear her, so Maria Santos, could hear her, so Leo, could hear her, so Mr. Earl Johnson, could hear her, so Lily Chen, could hear her:

“Maria, my real name, Maria, is Isabella Hart, Maria. Maria, I, am rich, Maria, owner, Maria, of Hart Fashion Group, Maria, worth, Maria, three billion dollars, Maria, in New York, Maria, in Manhattan, Maria, in a penthouse, Maria, with a view, Maria, of Central Park, Maria. Maria, I, pretended, Maria, to be poor, Maria, for thirty days, Maria, in Queens, Maria, as Bella, Maria, a poor waitress, Maria, with old shoes, Maria, with a backpack, Maria, that looked, Maria, empty, Maria, to find, Maria, true friends, Maria, in Queens, Maria, because Maria, in Manhattan, Maria, I, had, Maria, fifty, Maria, friends, Maria, who loved, Maria, my money, Maria, more, Maria, than me, Maria, and Maria, I, was lonely, Maria, in my penthouse, Maria, with a view, Maria, of Central Park, Maria, and Maria, you, Maria, are my first, Maria, true friend, Maria, in ten years, Maria, because Maria, you, Maria, shared, Maria, your sandwich, Maria, with me, Maria, every day, Maria, for three weeks, Maria, you, Maria, offered, Maria, me, Maria, a couch, Maria, every night, Maria, for three weeks, Maria, you, Maria, refused, Maria, fifty thousand dollars, Maria, from Marcus Sterling, Maria, to lie, Maria, about me, Maria, and Maria, I, Maria, am sorry, Maria, I, Maria, lied, Maria, to you, Maria, about, Maria, being poor, Maria, about, Maria, being Bella, Maria, about, Maria, being a waitress, Maria, who needed, Maria, your sandwich, Maria, your couch, Maria, your friendship, Maria, for nothing, Maria, for no money, Maria, for no fame, Maria, just, Maria, for me, Maria, Isabella Hart, Maria, a woman, Maria, who was, Maria, kind, Maria, funny, Maria, lonely, Maria, in Queens, Maria, in Sunny’s Diner, Maria, in a life, Maria, that felt, Maria, real, Maria, for the first time, Maria, in ten years, Maria, and Maria, please, Maria, forgive me, Maria, for lying, Maria, to you, Maria, about, Maria, being poor, Maria, please, Maria, stay, Maria, my friend, Maria, even, Maria, after, Maria, you know, Maria, I, Maria, am rich, Maria, please, Maria.”

Maria Santos, stared, at “Bella,” who was, Isabella Hart, for a long moment, without speaking, as if Maria Santos, were seeing, a ghost, as if Maria Santos, were seeing, an angel, as if Maria Santos, were seeing, a poor waitress, named Bella, who had, shared, Maria Santos’s sandwich, cut, in half, every day, for three weeks, who had, slept, on Maria Santos’s couch, every night, for three weeks, who had, given, Maria Santos, five hundred dollars, that morning, for Leo’s medicine, a poor waitress, who was, actually, rich, owner, of Hart Fashion Group, worth, three billion dollars, in New York, in Manhattan, in a penthouse, with a view, of Central Park, a rich woman, who had, pretended, to be poor, for thirty days, in Queens, as Bella, to find, true friends, a rich woman, who had, lied, to Maria Santos, for three weeks, about, being poor, about, being Bella, about, being a friend, who loved, Maria Santos, for nothing, when “Bella,” actually, had, everything, in New York, in a penthouse, in a company, worth, three billion dollars, and Maria Santos, cried, quietly, in Sunny’s Diner, that morning, because Maria Santos, did not know, whether, to be angry, at “Bella,” for lying, to Maria Santos, for three weeks, about, being poor, or to be grateful, to “Bella,” for giving, Maria Santos, five hundred dollars, that morning, for Leo’s medicine, for sharing, Maria Santos’s sandwich, cut, in half, every day, for three weeks, for sleeping, on Maria Santos’s couch, every night, for three weeks, for being, a true friend, who loved, Maria Santos, for nothing, for no money, for no fame, just, for Maria Santos, herself, a single mother, a waitress, in Sunny’s Diner, in Queens, New York, with a son, Leo, seven, sick, with asthma, with medicine, that cost, five hundred dollars, a month, and Maria Santos, said, quietly, clearly, bravely, so every person, in Sunny’s Diner, could hear her, so Marcus Sterling, could hear her, so Isabella Hart, could hear her, so Leo, could hear her, so Mr. Earl Johnson, could hear her, so Lily Chen, could hear her:

“Bella, Isabella, I, forgive you, Bella, Isabella, for lying, Bella, Isabella, about, Bella, Isabella, being poor, Bella, Isabella, because Bella, Isabella, you, Bella, Isabella, did not lie, Bella, Isabella, about, Bella, Isabella, being kind, Bella, Isabella, you, Bella, Isabella, did not lie, Bella, Isabella, about, Bella, Isabella, being my friend, Bella, Isabella, you, Bella, Isabella, shared, Bella, Isabella, my sandwich, Bella, Isabella, you, Bella, Isabella, gave me, Bella, Isabella, five hundred dollars, Bella, Isabella, for Leo’s medicine, Bella, Isabella, this morning, Bella, Isabella, you, Bella, Isabella, refused, Bella, Isabella, to let, Bella, Isabella, Marcus Sterling, Bella, Isabella, buy me, Bella, Isabella, for fifty thousand dollars, Bella, Isabella, because Bella, Isabella, I, Bella, Isabella, refused, Bella, Isabella, Marcus Sterling, Bella, Isabella, myself, Bella, Isabella, two weeks ago, Bella, Isabella, and Bella, Isabella, I, Bella, Isabella, will stay, Bella, Isabella, your friend, Bella, Isabella, even, Bella, Isabella, after, Bella, Isabella, I know, Bella, Isabella, you, Bella, Isabella, are rich, Bella, Isabella, because Bella, Isabella, friends, Bella, Isabella, do not, Bella, Isabella, leave, Bella, Isabella, each other, Bella, Isabella, because, Bella, Isabella, one friend, Bella, Isabella, is rich, Bella, Isabella, and one friend, Bella, Isabella, is poor, Bella, Isabella, friends, Bella, Isabella, stay, Bella, Isabella, together, Bella, Isabella, because, Bella, Isabella, they love, Bella, Isabella, each other, Bella, Isabella, for nothing, Bella, Isabella, for no money, Bella, Isabella, for no fame, Bella, Isabella, just, Bella, Isabella, for themselves, Bella, Isabella.”

Isabella Hart, cried, hugged, Maria Santos, in Sunny’s Diner, that morning, in front of Marcus Sterling, in front of Mr. Earl Johnson, in front of Lily Chen, in front of Mr. Harold Greene, in front of every customer, in Sunny’s Diner, that morning, because Isabella Hart, had, finally, found, a true friend, who forgave, her lie, about, being poor, who stayed, her friend, even, after, knowing, Isabella Hart, was rich, owner, of Hart Fashion Group, worth, three billion dollars, in New York, in Manhattan, in a penthouse, with a view, of Central Park, a true friend, named, Maria Santos, who loved, Isabella Hart, for nothing, for no money, for no fame, just, for Isabella Hart, herself, a woman, who was, kind, who was, funny, who was, lonely, in Queens, in Sunny’s Diner, in a life, that felt, real, for the first time, in ten years.

Mr. Earl Johnson, stood up, in Sunny’s Diner, that morning, and said, “Bella, Isabella, I, knew, Bella, Isabella, you, Bella, Isabella, were not, Bella, Isabella, poor, Bella, Isabella, all along, Bella, Isabella, because Bella, Isabella, poor people, Bella, Isabella, do not, Bella, Isabella, smell, Bella, Isabella, like expensive perfume, Bella, Isabella, even, Bella, Isabella, in old clothes, Bella, Isabella, but Bella, Isabella, I, Bella, Isabella, did not care, Bella, Isabella, because Bella, Isabella, you, Bella, Isabella, listened, Bella, Isabella, to my stories, Bella, Isabella, about Queens, Bella, Isabella, about life, Bella, Isabella, about kindness, Bella, Isabella, about my wife, Bella, Isabella, who died, Bella, Isabella, ten years ago, Bella, Isabella, and Bella, Isabella, I, Bella, Isabella, will stay, Bella, Isabella, your friend, Bella, Isabella, even, Bella, Isabella, after, Bella, Isabella, I know, Bella, Isabella, you, Bella, Isabella, are rich, Bella, Isabella.”

Lily Chen, stood up, in Sunny’s Diner, that morning, and said, “Bella, Isabella, I, will stay, Bella, Isabella, your friend, Bella, Isabella, too, Bella, Isabella, because Bella, Isabella, you, Bella, Isabella, helped me, Bella, Isabella, study, Bella, Isabella, for college, Bella, Isabella, in Sunny’s Diner, Bella, Isabella, after closing, Bella, Isabella, every night, Bella, Isabella, for three weeks, Bella, Isabella, and Bella, Isabella, friends, Bella, Isabella, help, Bella, Isabella, each other, Bella, Isabella, study, Bella, Isabella, for college, Bella, Isabella, for no money, Bella, Isabella, for no fame, Bella, Isabella, just, Bella, Isabella, for friendship, Bella, Isabella.”

Marcus Sterling, stared, at Isabella Hart, at Maria Santos, at Mr. Earl Johnson, at Lily Chen, for a long moment, without speaking, as if Marcus Sterling, were seeing, a ghost, as if Marcus Sterling, were seeing, a stranger, as if Marcus Sterling, were seeing, a rich woman, who had, found, true friends, in Queens, as Bella, a poor waitress, with old shoes, with a backpack, that looked, empty, true friends, who forgave, her lie, about, being poor, who stayed, her friends, even, after, knowing, she was rich, owner, of Hart Fashion Group, worth, three billion dollars, in New York, in Manhattan, in a penthouse, with a view, of Central Park, true friends, who Marcus Sterling, could not, buy, for fifty thousand dollars, for any money, in the world, true friends, who Marcus Sterling, had, never, had, in his life, as a businessman, who loved, money, more, than people, who loved, Isabella Hart’s money, more, than Isabella Hart, herself, and Marcus Sterling, said, quietly, clearly, so every person, in Sunny’s Diner, could hear him, so Isabella Hart, could hear him, so Maria Santos, could hear him, so Leo, could hear him, so Mr. Earl Johnson, could hear him, so Lily Chen, could hear him, the words, that would, change everything, again, that would, set up, Part 3, of Isabella Hart’s story, that would, make Isabella Hart, drop, her coffee pot, again, right there, in Sunny’s Diner, in Queens, New York, in front of everyone, in front of, her true friends, Maria Santos, Mr. Earl Johnson, Lily Chen, who had, just forgiven, her lie, about, being poor, who had, just stayed, her friends, even, after, knowing, she was rich, when Marcus Sterling, said:

“Isabella, congratulations, Isabella, you found, Isabella, true friends, Isabella, in Queens, Isabella, as Bella, Isabella, but Isabella, true friends, Isabella, do not, Isabella, save, Isabella, a company, Isabella, in crisis, Isabella, true friends, Isabella, do not, Isabella, stop, Isabella, a board vote, Isabella, tomorrow, Isabella, to remove you, Isabella, as CEO, Isabella, of Hart Fashion Group, Isabella, and Isabella, I, Isabella, have bought, Isabella, Sunny’s Diner, Isabella, this morning, Isabella, from Mr. Harold Greene, Isabella, for one million dollars, Isabella, in cash, Isabella, and Isabella, I, Isabella, will fire, Isabella, Maria Santos, Isabella, Mr. Earl Johnson, Isabella, and Lily Chen, Isabella, tomorrow, Isabella, morning, Isabella, at 7:00 a.m., Isabella, unless you, Isabella, return, Isabella, to Manhattan, Isabella, tonight, Isabella, right now, Isabella, and marry, Isabella, me, Isabella, Marcus Sterling, Isabella, again, Isabella, and give, Isabella, me, Isabella, half, Isabella, of Hart Fashion Group, Isabella, worth, Isabella, three billion dollars, Isabella, in New York, Isabella, in Manhattan, Isabella, in a penthouse, Isabella, with a view, Isabella, of Central Park, Isabella, and Isabella, if you, Isabella, do not, Isabella, return, Isabella, to Manhattan, Isabella, tonight, Isabella, Maria Santos, Isabella, will lose, Isabella, her job, Isabella, in Sunny’s Diner, Isabella, tomorrow, Isabella, morning, Isabella, Mr. Earl Johnson, Isabella, will lose, Isabella, his job, Isabella, in Sunny’s Diner, Isabella, tomorrow, Isabella, morning, Isabella, Lily Chen, Isabella, will lose, Isabella, her job, Isabella, in Sunny’s Diner, Isabella, tomorrow, Isabella, morning, Isabella, and Isabella, Leo, Isabella, Maria Santos’s son, Isabella, seven, Isabella, sick, Isabella, with asthma, Isabella, will lose, Isabella, his medicine, Isabella, because Maria Santos, Isabella, will have, Isabella, no money, Isabella, for Leo’s medicine, Isabella, five hundred dollars, Isabella, a month, Isabella, without, Isabella, a job, Isabella, in Sunny’s Diner, Isabella, in Queens, Isabella, New York, Isabella, and Isabella, Maria Santos, Isabella, told me, Isabella, just now, Isabella, in Sunny’s Diner, Isabella, ‘Don’t sign, Bella, don’t sign, Isabella, we will find, Isabella, another job, Isabella, we are friends, Isabella, not employees, Isabella,’ Isabella, but Isabella, Maria Santos, Isabella, does not know, Isabella, I, Isabella, also, Isabella, bought, Isabella, Maria Santos’s apartment building, Isabella, this morning, Isabella, in Queens, Isabella, New York, Isabella, for two million dollars, Isabella, in cash, Isabella, and Isabella, I, Isabella, will evict, Isabella, Maria Santos, Isabella, and Leo, Isabella, tomorrow, Isabella, morning, Isabella, at 7:00 a.m., Isabella, unless you, Isabella, return, Isabella, to Manhattan, Isabella, tonight, Isabella, and marry, Isabella, me, Isabella, Marcus Sterling, Isabella, again, Isabella, Isabella, your choice, Isabella, tonight, Isabella, at midnight, Isabella, marry me, Isabella, and save, Isabella, your friends’ jobs, Isabella, and Maria Santos’s apartment, Isabella, or do not, Isabella, marry me, Isabella, and lose, Isabella, your friends’ jobs, Isabella, and Maria Santos’s apartment, Isabella, tomorrow, Isabella, morning, Isabella, at 7:00 a.m., Isabella, in Sunny’s Diner, Isabella, in Queens, Isabella, New York, Isabella.”

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 3…

❤️ If you were Isabella, would you marry a man who tried to buy your friends — to save their jobs and their home?

👇 Comment YES if you want PART 3!