Chapter 3

3 I was deep-diving into the Twitterverse when my phone buzzed with a call from Isabel. [Hot off the press! The Insta-famous artist and stunner 'Aurora Wilde', aka Isabella Andrews, just snagged the gold at the 2022 Preston International Paint-Off with her masterpiece 'Midnight Moon'. 🌙🖌️ Art influencer, Master Stone, slid into her DMs once to say, "Girl's got mad talent for the 21st-century vibes."] Isabella's face popped up on the trending feed, glam on point, draped in a custom-made, dreamy blue dress, lighting up the screen as she chatted with the talk show queen. "Isabel, the word on the Tweet street is that your 'Midnight Moon' is like, your spirit painting. Fans are saying you're this ethereal, pure 'Midnight Moon'. Thoughts?" Notifications went wild: 'Elegance level: [Midnight Moon]', 'Queen, slide into my DMs?', 'Art goals + Beauty goals = Isabel', 'Our country's crown jewel! 💎'. Isabella gave that signature shy smile, "OMG, my fandom is everything!" But all I could focus on was the 'Midnight Moon' chilling in the backdrop. My heart rate spiked, disbelief taking over. No way... That's... How?... The host playfully peeked at Isabel's gown, "Rumor mill's churning about a proposal from the Vanderbilt Enterprise's main man? That dress is all kinds of goals." Enter the Vanderbilts – the powerhouse fam from the capital. Media empires? Tech giants? Yep, they own it all. And Martin Vanderbilt, their globe-trotting prodigal son, is now the CEO. Been there, heard all of it - Isabel's been flexing those connections. I was still processing when my phone buzzed again. "Hey, Autie," Isabel's voice wavered, "You busy?" Lost amidst the kids doodling away, I responded, "Just guiding some young Picassos." "You see the trends today?" "You know my tech game's weak. Why?" A sigh of relief, "Oh, right. Forgot. Anyway, major news flash: Martin Vanderbilt and I are tying the knot in Santorini next month!" "You rang to ask if I'd play bridesmaid? Santorini's out of my budget." "OMG, no!" Isabel snapped, her voice catching. Regaining composure, she murmured, "Look, post-wedding, we're moving. Dad wants to host you for dinner tomorrow. Cool?" The invite hit different, but after a pause, I replied, "See you then."