King Von Imagines

Truth Hurts

Word Count-876

Isla Rossi had built her empire from the ground up. Rossi Luxe Designs was more than just a brand—it was her legacy, her blood, sweat, and sleepless nights poured into creating something undeniable. She wasn't the type to lose focus easily, but tonight, everything else faded into the background.

It started with a simple scroll.

Lying on her king-sized bed, silk robe loosely tied around her curves, she absentmindedly browsed through Instagram, catching up on industry trends and client updates. But then, there it was—a picture that made her blood run cold.

A girl. No, some girl, snuggled up on his lap.

The club lights in the background, the familiar section where he always sat when he was out with his boys. His arm wasn't wrapped around her, but he wasn't pushing her off either. And the way she leaned into him, like she belonged there? Isla's jaw clenched so tight it could shatter glass.

Her finger hovered over the image, heart hammering against her ribs. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe this was just another one of those setups where people angled photos to make things look worse than they were.

But then, she checked the timestamp. Posted 12 minutes ago.

Her stomach twisted.

Without a second thought, she swiped up to FaceTime him. The phone rang once. Twice. Then—declined.

Isla sat up. "Oh, so we're doing that now?" she muttered to herself, gripping her phone tighter.

She called again. Declined.

The sharp sting of betrayal settled in her chest, igniting something deep in her bones.

Fine. If he wanted to ignore her, he'd have to see her when he got home.

The front door slammed against the wall as Von walked in sometime past 3 AM, the scent of liquor, smoke, and faint perfume trailing in with him. Isla sat on the couch, legs crossed, arms folded, waiting.

His steps slowed when he saw her, a sigh leaving his lips. "Man, what now?"

She let out a cold laugh, standing up. "What now?" she echoed. "You really got the audacity to ask me that?"

Von ran a hand down his face, already annoyed. "Isla, I'm tired, man. I don't feel like arguing."

"Oh, you don't feel like arguing?" She grabbed her phone from the table, pulling up the picture and shoving it in his face. "Who the hell is this?"

Von barely glanced at it before shaking his head. "Man, you trippin'. That's nobody."

"Nobody?" she scoffed, stepping closer. "So, nobody is just sitting on your lap like you her man?"

Von sucked his teeth. "It ain't even like that. I was chillin', she came over, took the picture. I ain't touch her."

"Oh, so now you the victim? Funny, because when I called you, you sure as hell wasn't answering."

He exhaled, taking a step back, jaw tightening. "Because I knew this was gon' be the first thing out your mouth! Ain't even give me a chance to explain before you start wildin'."

Isla let out a humorless laugh, her anger shifting into something colder. "You knew because you knew it looked bad. But instead of being a man and picking up the phone, you ran from it."

"I ain't run from nothin'," he snapped. "You be actin' like I'm out here disrespectin' you. I told you it wasn't like that."

Isla folded her arms tighter, her nails digging into her skin. "Then why do I feel disrespected?" Her voice wavered, just enough for him to notice.

Von's expression shifted for half a second, but his pride wouldn't let him soften. Instead, he turned away, gripping the back of his neck. "Man, I can't win with you."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding slowly. "You know what's funny? I would never do this to you. I would never put you in a position where you had to question my loyalty, but here I am. Again."

Von turned back to her, eyes dark. "I ain't cheat on you, Isla."

"Maybe not physically." She inhaled sharply. "But the way you move? The way you make me feel like I gotta keep my guard up all the time? That's betrayal too."

Von didn't say anything. For once, he didn't have a quick response, didn't have an excuse ready to fire back.

Isla shook her head, stepping back. "I don't want to do this anymore, Von."

His body tensed, but he kept his face unreadable. "So what you sayin'?"

"I'm saying I love you, but I love myself more." Her voice broke slightly, but she held her ground. "And if you can't respect what we have enough to stop putting me in these situations, then maybe... maybe we need to take a step back."

The silence between them was suffocating. Von's jaw clenched, his fingers twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach for her, but something held him back.

After a long moment, he finally nodded, his voice low. "Aight."

That was all he said.

And for Isla, that was all she needed to hear.

She turned, walking toward the bedroom, her heart aching with every step. Maybe he'd fight for her. Maybe he wouldn't.

Either way, she refused to fight for someone who wasn't willing to fight for her.