The fire was alive and ravenous, crackling.As the flames consumed every page, every secret, and every truth that Belle had discovered, she stood motionless, her breath coming in short gasps.Silent and in control, Alistair stared.Without saying a word, he had removed the file from her hands and burned it in his study's fireplace, destroying proof like a deity erasing sin.Belle felt nothing but cold as the fire's heat lapped at her flesh."Belle, this isn't a game."Alistair had a low voice with a deadly edge.She balled her hands into fists. "That was, ""It's none of your business."Belle's chest grew constricted."Not a concern of mine?" The weight of her rage caused her voice to crack as it increased. Alistair, a woman has passed away. I discovered, Her heart skipped a beat when he turned on her.She was trapped in place by his dark, scorching eyes."What I let you find, you found."Belle's heart froze.A flutter of embers flew into the air between them as the fire burst.She s
A sliver of golden light cut through the sheer drapes, tracing a thin path over the silk sheets. The scent of expensive cologne and last night’s champagne lingered in the air, mingling with the faintest trace of something forbidden. The world outside this penthouse was already awake cars honking, heels clicking against polished pavement but inside this gilded cage, time stood still.Belle Madrigal stirred, the cool satin against her bare skin a sharp contrast to the fevered heat of last night. Her mind felt thick, sluggish, as if swimming through the remnants of a dream. Then reality struck.She wasn’t in her own bed.Her lashes fluttered open, and the sight before her stole the breath from her lungs.A man stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, adjusting the cuffs of his crisp white shirt, his movements precise, unhurried like a king preparing for war. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his frame exuding raw power even in the simplest of gestures. Tousled dark hair framed a face so str
It was as chaotic within Belle Madrigal's heart as the storm outside. Fat drips raced down the glass of her tiny flat like tears she would not shed as the rain dashed against the windows. Long shadows were created by the bedside lamp's dull glow, which highlighted the bag that was lying open on the bed and partially full with the clothes she had stuffed inside just moments before. Her heartbeat sounded like thunder in her ears as she zipped up a black duffel bag, her hands shaking. She was unable to stay. No more. She had been wiped out by Alistair Kensington. As if she were inconsequential. She had been reliving the moment she called his office for days, how Gabrielle's icy tone had cut the thin thread that still held them together. No interaction. No recognition. Love, not from a man like him, was not what she had anticipated. However, she also hadn't anticipated being thrown out. The travel ticket on the nightstand was touched by her fingers. A flight to Seattle, one way. It
A sliver of cold light sliced through the darkness.Belle stirred, her body a battlefield of pain.Her limbs were leaden, her ribs screaming in protest at the mere attempt to move. A dull, throbbing ache pulsed through her skull, the sensation sharp and unforgiving. The sterile bite of hospital air filled her lungs, mingling with the distant beeping of machines that counted out the fragile rhythm of her existence.She was alive.The realization should have brought relief.Instead, dread coiled in her stomach like a snake, tightening its grip.Something was wrong.The sheets beneath her were crisp, the mattress too firm, the walls around her a clinical shade of white, too pristine, too controlled.This wasn’t her apartment.It wasn’t even the cheap motel where she’d planned to disappear, where she could vanish into the background of the world and never be found.No.This place was a cage.Belle forced her eyelids open, blinking against the oppressive fluorescence overhead. The room wav
The silence was the first thing Belle noticed. Not the quiet sort. The sort that crushed against her ribcage, making breathing difficult, the kind that was oppressive and deliberate. Her body was weak and aching from the crash's aftermath, and she struggled to open her heavy eyes. As though her brain was still attempting to reconstruct the shattered moments before everything had turned dark, a steady throbbing settled behind her skull. After forcing herself to stand, she became aware that something was off. The white, sterile walls. The luxurious linens that seemed too costly for a public medical facility. The gentle buzz of machinery, keeping an eye on her every move. She felt a knot in her stomach. Belle wasn't by herself. Near the window, a woman in a grey suit sat with a tablet on her lap. Her small lips were squeezed into a hard line, and her blond hair was twisted back into a tight bun, Not a nurse. Not a medical professional,A handler,Belle's pulse quickened. She d
The mansion loomed before her, an iron fortress disguised as luxury.Belle stood at the threshold, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. The air was thick with unspoken tension, the weight of her choices pressing against her chest.She had signed the contract.She had sealed her fate.Now, she was here.Alistair had said nothing on the drive back. Not a word.And she had been too exhausted to fight the silence.The butler, an older man with a face carved by time and discipline, stepped aside, ushering her into a world she didn’t belong to.Belle stepped forward, her shoes sinking into the plush marble floors. Chandeliers glowed above her, casting golden light against the towering bookshelves, the grand staircase, the portraits of Kensington ancestors who had ruled before Alistair.She didn’t belong here.She never would.Alistair strode ahead without looking back. “You’ll stay in the east wing.”Belle swallowed hard. “And you?”He paused at the foot of the stairs. Then,
The faint crackle of the fireplace was the only sound emanating from the study. Behind his mahogany desk, Alistair Kensington sat with his fingers folded under his chin, his piercing blue gaze fixed on nothing. The mansion was still, and the little glow of predawn light enveloped the outer world.The phone then rang. Not his own line. The straight line. At this hour, only one person in the entire world would dare to utilise it. His dad. Kensington, Alexander. Alistair's mouth tightened. After letting the phone ring twice and then three times, he hit the accept button. "Papa." He spoke in a calm, expectant, and detached tone. On the other end, a low exhale. Not impatience. computation. "You've probably seen the headlines." He didn't sense the tranquilly that Alistair exuded as he leaned back in his chair. "I don't waste time on rumours." A scathing laugh devoid of humour. "Stalk?" Alexander thought. "Every screen in the nation has your name on it. "The covert marriage of bi
The lobby of Kensington Enterprises was a hive of wealth and influence. With her arms folded, Belle stood close to the glass windows, listening to the bustle of the city below. This was not the place for her. Not in the marble floors, the well-tailored suits, or the whispered chatter of those who breathed money like oxygen. But she was not going anywhere. Considering how hard she'd fought to get here. A controlled, deliberate click of heels reverberated behind her. Belle pivoted. Richards, Gabrielle. Alistair's helper. His guardian. Gabrielle, dressed immaculately in a silk shirt and charcoal-gray pencil skirt, walked like a queen in her court, cold and unreachable. Her eyes ran over Belle, disdainful and calculating. "You're doing something wrong," Gabrielle said. Belle's chin went up. "I'm accustomed to hearing that." Gabrielle's forehead raised. "Are you accustomed to correctness?" Belle remained unflinching. "What are you looking for?" Gabrielle lowered her voice and
The fire was alive and ravenous, crackling.As the flames consumed every page, every secret, and every truth that Belle had discovered, she stood motionless, her breath coming in short gasps.Silent and in control, Alistair stared.Without saying a word, he had removed the file from her hands and burned it in his study's fireplace, destroying proof like a deity erasing sin.Belle felt nothing but cold as the fire's heat lapped at her flesh."Belle, this isn't a game."Alistair had a low voice with a deadly edge.She balled her hands into fists. "That was, ""It's none of your business."Belle's chest grew constricted."Not a concern of mine?" The weight of her rage caused her voice to crack as it increased. Alistair, a woman has passed away. I discovered, Her heart skipped a beat when he turned on her.She was trapped in place by his dark, scorching eyes."What I let you find, you found."Belle's heart froze.A flutter of embers flew into the air between them as the fire burst.She s
The morning was too quiet.Belle woke to the feeling of being watched.For a split second, she swore she wasn’t alone. The heavy silk curtains filtered in the dim morning light, and the Kensington estate was silent, as if holding its breath.Then, she saw it.Her cushion had a tiny velvet box on it. Her heart twitched. No one had entered, as far as she knew. hadn't sensed the change in the mattress. Even nevertheless, the box remained there, an encroachment on her personal space. With the cool morning air sweeping across her naked shoulders, Belle forced herself to stand up. Her fingers hesitated, almost reluctantly, as she reached for the package carefully. It wasn't heavy. However, its weight was a quite different matter. An alert. a cage. She opened the lid with a flip. Inside, a diamond collar necklace was nestled against the rich crimson velvet. The cold, perfect, and merciless stones gleamed in the gentle light. Belle's breath caught. This was jewellery she had see
Deception was the language and power was the currency of the glittering mirage that was the Kensington mansion, which shone like a dream. Belle's breath froze in her throat as she stood at the great ballroom's entrance. The polished marble floors were illuminated by broken light from the gold and crystal-dripping chandelier overhead. The air was filled with the sound of glasses clinking and laughter, a symphony of exclusivity and luxury. This was not the place for her. Nevertheless, she was present. because her hand had been forced by Lucy Kensington. Lucy had stated, "Appearances must be maintained," in a smooth and harsh voice. "A Kensington wife must learn to navigate a room full of wolves." Every single person in this room was waiting for her to fail, Belle realised as she looked about her. Champagne was offered by a waiter. Belle covered the internal conflict with a steady hand as she took a glass. She sensed that someone was watching her. Alistair, not just the visito
The lobby of Kensington Enterprises was a hive of wealth and influence. With her arms folded, Belle stood close to the glass windows, listening to the bustle of the city below. This was not the place for her. Not in the marble floors, the well-tailored suits, or the whispered chatter of those who breathed money like oxygen. But she was not going anywhere. Considering how hard she'd fought to get here. A controlled, deliberate click of heels reverberated behind her. Belle pivoted. Richards, Gabrielle. Alistair's helper. His guardian. Gabrielle, dressed immaculately in a silk shirt and charcoal-gray pencil skirt, walked like a queen in her court, cold and unreachable. Her eyes ran over Belle, disdainful and calculating. "You're doing something wrong," Gabrielle said. Belle's chin went up. "I'm accustomed to hearing that." Gabrielle's forehead raised. "Are you accustomed to correctness?" Belle remained unflinching. "What are you looking for?" Gabrielle lowered her voice and
The faint crackle of the fireplace was the only sound emanating from the study. Behind his mahogany desk, Alistair Kensington sat with his fingers folded under his chin, his piercing blue gaze fixed on nothing. The mansion was still, and the little glow of predawn light enveloped the outer world.The phone then rang. Not his own line. The straight line. At this hour, only one person in the entire world would dare to utilise it. His dad. Kensington, Alexander. Alistair's mouth tightened. After letting the phone ring twice and then three times, he hit the accept button. "Papa." He spoke in a calm, expectant, and detached tone. On the other end, a low exhale. Not impatience. computation. "You've probably seen the headlines." He didn't sense the tranquilly that Alistair exuded as he leaned back in his chair. "I don't waste time on rumours." A scathing laugh devoid of humour. "Stalk?" Alexander thought. "Every screen in the nation has your name on it. "The covert marriage of bi
The mansion loomed before her, an iron fortress disguised as luxury.Belle stood at the threshold, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. The air was thick with unspoken tension, the weight of her choices pressing against her chest.She had signed the contract.She had sealed her fate.Now, she was here.Alistair had said nothing on the drive back. Not a word.And she had been too exhausted to fight the silence.The butler, an older man with a face carved by time and discipline, stepped aside, ushering her into a world she didn’t belong to.Belle stepped forward, her shoes sinking into the plush marble floors. Chandeliers glowed above her, casting golden light against the towering bookshelves, the grand staircase, the portraits of Kensington ancestors who had ruled before Alistair.She didn’t belong here.She never would.Alistair strode ahead without looking back. “You’ll stay in the east wing.”Belle swallowed hard. “And you?”He paused at the foot of the stairs. Then,
The silence was the first thing Belle noticed. Not the quiet sort. The sort that crushed against her ribcage, making breathing difficult, the kind that was oppressive and deliberate. Her body was weak and aching from the crash's aftermath, and she struggled to open her heavy eyes. As though her brain was still attempting to reconstruct the shattered moments before everything had turned dark, a steady throbbing settled behind her skull. After forcing herself to stand, she became aware that something was off. The white, sterile walls. The luxurious linens that seemed too costly for a public medical facility. The gentle buzz of machinery, keeping an eye on her every move. She felt a knot in her stomach. Belle wasn't by herself. Near the window, a woman in a grey suit sat with a tablet on her lap. Her small lips were squeezed into a hard line, and her blond hair was twisted back into a tight bun, Not a nurse. Not a medical professional,A handler,Belle's pulse quickened. She d
A sliver of cold light sliced through the darkness.Belle stirred, her body a battlefield of pain.Her limbs were leaden, her ribs screaming in protest at the mere attempt to move. A dull, throbbing ache pulsed through her skull, the sensation sharp and unforgiving. The sterile bite of hospital air filled her lungs, mingling with the distant beeping of machines that counted out the fragile rhythm of her existence.She was alive.The realization should have brought relief.Instead, dread coiled in her stomach like a snake, tightening its grip.Something was wrong.The sheets beneath her were crisp, the mattress too firm, the walls around her a clinical shade of white, too pristine, too controlled.This wasn’t her apartment.It wasn’t even the cheap motel where she’d planned to disappear, where she could vanish into the background of the world and never be found.No.This place was a cage.Belle forced her eyelids open, blinking against the oppressive fluorescence overhead. The room wav
It was as chaotic within Belle Madrigal's heart as the storm outside. Fat drips raced down the glass of her tiny flat like tears she would not shed as the rain dashed against the windows. Long shadows were created by the bedside lamp's dull glow, which highlighted the bag that was lying open on the bed and partially full with the clothes she had stuffed inside just moments before. Her heartbeat sounded like thunder in her ears as she zipped up a black duffel bag, her hands shaking. She was unable to stay. No more. She had been wiped out by Alistair Kensington. As if she were inconsequential. She had been reliving the moment she called his office for days, how Gabrielle's icy tone had cut the thin thread that still held them together. No interaction. No recognition. Love, not from a man like him, was not what she had anticipated. However, she also hadn't anticipated being thrown out. The travel ticket on the nightstand was touched by her fingers. A flight to Seattle, one way. It