Isabel’s POVThe city blurs past as I finalize today’s strategy. When the Redding Foundation’s grand facade comes into view, I’m ready for the next phase.I step out of the car, the admiration and subtle murmurs of onlookers brushing past me like a warm breeze. I stride confidently through the building, my heels echoing against the polished marble floors.As I approach Cynthia’s office, I find her at her desk, shoulders hunched, fingers tapping nervously. Her usual composure is gone.I smile faintly, a calculated expression of amusement, as I push open the door and step inside. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our appointment today?”Cynthia startles, her head snapping up, her mask of professionalism slipping for just a moment before she hastily reassembles it. “Of course not,” she replies, though her voice lacks its usual bite.I lean against the back of the chair, studying her carefully. Her brow furrows slightly, as if she’s trying to piece something together. “We’ve just started ou
Alexander’s POVIt’s been three days since Cynthia created this mess, and I still can’t figure out her reason. Why would she do this? What does she gain? I pinch the bridge of my nose, leaning back in my chair, the weight of it all sinking into my chest. If this spirals out of control, I don’t think I can ever forgive her. My jaw tightens at the thought—especially if this mess blows back on me.My thoughts are interrupted as Susan walks in. Her heels click softly against the floor, her figure framed by the doorway. “Sir,” she starts, her tone professional but edged with worry, “like you requested, an order has been sent.” Her hands drop to her sides, her voice shifting slightly as she continues, “But sir… can we really meet the deadline?”I glance up at her, not because of her words but because my mind is spinning with the possibilities. What if we can’t? What if this entire launch gets derailed? My fingers tap restlessly on the desk as Susan shifts, not nervously but cautiously, like
Isabel’s POVThe building buzzes with energy as I stride toward the entrance. The hum of voices overlaps with the tapping of keyboards, punctuated by the occasional ring of phones. This isn’t just another day—it’s crunch time, with slightly more than a week until the launch of the condo project. My heels click against the marble floors, each step purposeful, each stride a testament to the pace we need to maintain.“Ma’am.” A team head approaches, matching my stride with a clipboard in hand, his tone urgent. “There’s an issue with the digital marketing campaign. Some of the ad visuals didn’t pass compliance, and the team is concerned it might delay the final push.”“Pull the team into a quick review,” I say firmly, barely slowing my steps. “Have them make the necessary revisions and submit by the end of the day. We can’t afford to lose momentum.”“Yes, ma’am.” He nods and veers off into the sea of activity.Christine is waiting for me by the elevator, her gaze focused on her iPad. “Soc
Isabel’s POVThe boardroom is silent as I settle into my seat, the eyes of every executive fixed on me. The meeting had been scheduled to discuss updates on our key projects, but I know the rumors circling the King’s Empire are the real reason for this tension.I fold my hands deliberately on the desk, my knuckles grazing the polished wood. It’s a small gesture, but it halts the rising whispers, their attention snapping back to me.I begin with a rundown of the agenda, covering the progress of ongoing initiatives. My voice is steady, confident, as I outline the achievements so far. Just as I finish, one of the executives, a middle-aged man with graying hair, leans forward, his brow furrowed.“Miss Montgomery,” he begins, his tone cautious, “we’ve heard unsettling rumors that the King’s Empire may not be able to complete the interiors of the project before the set date. Is there any truth to this?”The room shifts—chairs creak, murmurs rise like an undercurrent. But I don’t flinch. My
Alexander’s POVCollins’ voice pulls me out of my thoughts like a sharp tug on a leash. “Hey, man, that’s a lot,” he says, his tone light, but there’s an edge to it that I can’t ignore. I swirl the amber liquid in my glass, watching the light refract through it. My jaw tightens, the silence between us heavy as I finally raise my eyes to meet his. He’s giving me that look—sharp, no-nonsense—the one he uses when he’s about to call me out.“So,” Collins says, his voice dropping lower, more serious. “What’s the plan? You’re not thinking of backing out, are you?”I sigh, setting my glass down with a dull clink. “What do you think?” The words feel heavy, like throwing a coin into a well without knowing what the outcome will be.Collins’ brows shoot up, his surprise cutting through the haze in my mind. “Come on, man, it’s unlike you to just give up. This isn’t just some contract. It’s your name, your legacy. Losing this deal could mean losing everything you’ve built—and everything you’ve fo
Cynthia’s POVMy heels click sharply against the polished floor as I storm through the building. My fury burns like a live wire under my skin, each step propelling me closer to the one place I know can absorb it all. The private escape no one else knows about—my sanctuary of chaos.When I reach the door, I shove it open without hesitation. He barely has time to react before I close the space between us, grabbing him by the collar and crashing my lips against his. The kiss is raw, desperate, and he responds in kind, his hands gripping my waist before sliding lower with a force that makes me shudder. This is what I came for—the intensity, the fire that burns away everything else.My breath comes in short gasps as the kiss deepens, and I pull back just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark with emotion, the kind that always ignites something primal in me. I hate that it does, but I can’t stop. He’s always been the one to ground me, to take the edge off when I’m spiraling.I grab him
Cynthia’s POVAs I step into the quiet house, the faint scent of whiskey lingers in the air, mingling with the cool stillness of the night. My heels are muffled by the polished marble tiles, and I glance at the dimly lit hallway, relieved to find it empty. Sneaking in has become second nature, a careful game of silence and shadows. I make my way toward the stairs, hoping to slip into my room unnoticed.But just as my hand grazes the bannister, a voice cuts through the air, sharp and cold.“Are you out again seeking a way to ruin things?”I freeze, my breath hitching as my gaze snaps toward the living room. Alexander.He’s sprawled on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, a tumbler of whiskey resting in his hand. The dim lighting casts shadows across his sharp jawline, but it’s his eyes that strike me. Cold, piercing, and—under the warm glow of the lamp—almost red, like embers waiting to ignite. He doesn’t move immediately, but there’s a slow, deliberate shift in his posture as he
Isabel’s POVI promised the kids that if they practiced for their school’s upcoming function—even though it’s weeks away—I’d drop them off at school myself. The earlier they started, the better, right? So here we are. Turning to face them in the backseat, I smile. “Okay, babies, we’re here now,” I say as I unbuckle Scarlett first, lifting her out of the car. Her giggles fill the air as I place her on the ground.Just as I’m reaching for Sterling, a sharp scream cuts through the quiet—though not loud enough to disturb the school’s peace. “Uncle! Mommy, it’s Uncle!” Scarlett exclaims, tugging at my dress before darting off in a direction.“Scarlett!” I call, quickly setting Sterling down. His little fingers wrap tightly around mine as I look toward where Scarlett ran off. “Which uncle is she talking about?” I mutter under my breath. Turning toward the direction, I see him—Alexander. He’s crouched to Scarlett’s height, their chatter filling the air with an ease that catches me off guard.
Isabel’s POVAs we take our seats, I glance around the room, soaking in its glow.Crystal chandeliers hang like stars above a sea of curated beauty—fashion elites, influencers, designers, journalists. All gathered for LM Fashion’s latest showcase. Velvet drapes in the brand’s signature maroon shade frame the wide runway, sleek and gleaming beneath the spotlight. The air smells of roses, ambition, and a hint of tension that only those like me can sense.Roy sits beside me, his shoulder brushing mine slightly, his quiet presence grounding. Across the table, my mother, Victoria Montgomery—still poised as ever—leans in to whisper something to Grace, who gives a soft chuckle in return. They look relaxed. Pleased. The calm before the wave.I glance up—my eyes drawn to the opposite table where the night’s showstoppers sit.Aurora.She looks like she belongs here: regal in black, her hair pinned back with delicate crystal clips that shimmer under the soft lighting. Beside her, Richard looks d
Isabel’s POVIt’s been two weeks since the fall.Two weeks since I cornered Cynthia and made it painfully clear just how much she stands to lose if she ever dares to come for me again. I didn’t need to raise my voice. Just facts, laid bare like knives on silk. I showed her the cracks in her perfect little world—one by one. Her reputation? Hanging by a thread. Her false sense of security in that house? Dismantled. Her place in the industry? Already slipping through her manicured fingers.And that was just the beginning.Because losing her foundation is only the first drop on the rollercoaster I’ve strapped her into.Next comes the descent.I’m going to make her stay at the King’s mansion a living hell. A place so cold, so hostile, even the walls will reject her. I want her to feel the weight of being truly hated—not just by me, but by everyone that matters in that house. Especially Sabrina. The anger in Sabrina’s eyes when she looks at Cynthia now? It’s sharp. Raging. I’ve stoked the f
Isabel’s POVI struggle to loosen my arm from Alexander’s grip, tugging harder even as his fingers dig into my skin like claws desperate to stay tethered. My chest heaves from the pressure, my throat tight with restrained fury.“Let go,” I hiss, but he doesn’t budge.Not until the door swings open.And then… I see him.Roy.He’s standing there, still, shoulders broad, presence commanding. But it’s his eyes that speak volumes. The intensity in his gaze, the way it flickers from me to Alexander’s hold on my arm—it’s enough to make Alexander go still too.In seconds, Roy strides forward. I feel a rush of relief as he reaches us, his hand locking around Alexander’s wrist. His grip is firm. Steady. Without hesitation, he peels Alexander’s hand away from me, forcing him to let go.“How dare you touch her,” Roy growls, his voice low and rough, seconds before his fist crashes into Alexander’s jaw.The blow is fast, brutal. Alexander stumbles back, nearly losing balance but catches himself jus
Alexander’s POVCameras flash like lightning across a stormy sky, the air thick with tension. I stand there, jaw set, the words already rehearsed in my head—but still, I can’t believe Isabel is making me do this.A public apology.God.But as my mother said earlier this morning, “If getting low is the only way to gain control, then get low. We’ll crawl beneath her feet if we must—until we’re ready to rise and flip her world upside down.”And when we do, it’ll be her turn to choke on regret.I inhale sharply through my nose, straighten my shoulders, and speak to the press with a calm I barely feel.Then it comes—the reporter’s question. His voice cuts through the buzz.“We see that your wife, Cynthia Castillo, has indeed offended Miss Claire Montgomery by releasing her private affairs without consent… but what we don’t know is—why? Do you mind telling us why she did so?”My fist tightens.Jaw clenched.My eyes flick toward Cynthia where she sits at the corner of the stage, legs crossed
Isabel’s POVI’m in the middle of a quick briefing with the heads of each department for the upcoming fashion show, everyone huddled around the oval table in my office. Swatches are being passed, digital models flicker across screens, and fabric samples are laid out like cards at a poker game. I’m about to ask a question about lighting when Christine slides in quietly, pressing her hand against the glass door.“Ma’am,” she says, voice low but urgent, “someone is here to see you. He said it’s important.”My brow furrows. “Who is it?”She hesitates.I dismiss the team with a nod. “We’ll pick this up later. Keep working as planned.”They file out, murmuring to one another, a few casting curious glances over their shoulders. The last door click hasn’t even faded when the knob turns again—and in walks the least person I ever expected.Carl Edward.His presence draws an immediate scoff from my lips. I arch a brow, half-surprised, half-irritated. He looks almost the same—tailored charcoal su
Isabel’s POVI barely make it through the door before my mother rushes toward me, her heels clacking against the floor.“Claire, dear, what happened?” she asks, worry laced in every word.She doesn’t wait for an answer. Her hands gently guide me to the couch, pressing me down to sit as though I might shatter if left standing.I stay still.My body might be here, but my mind keeps flicking back to Cynthia’s words earlier—family secrets.What could she be referring to?Is this one of her usual mind games?She knows exactly how deeply things like this get to me. And that’s what makes it worse. Is she just toying with me again? Or… is there actually something I don’t know?I stare at the polished floor, my brows slightly furrowed, thoughts tangled.It wouldn’t be the first time she used manipulation to shake me—but something about her tone today… it didn’t sound like a bluff.I glance up slowly, meeting my mother’s expectant eyes.Should I go on to ask?But why do I feel like even if I do,
Alexander’s POVI sit slouched in my chair, head resting against the high back, rocking slightly as the chair creaks beneath me. My fingers tap a pen rhythmically on the table, a steady beat that contrasts the chaos in my mind.“Be prepared to go down with Cynthia.”Isabel’s voice plays on a loop in my head. I don’t know why, but it’s the way she said it—with quiet certainty—that unsettles me. She’s not bluffing. That much I know.The door bursts open.I sit up instantly as my mother storms in like a woman who’s just been ripped out of a nightmare—wild eyes, stiff shoulders, hands trembling by her side.“What was she doing here?” she demands, jerking her thumb back toward the hallway. “She was just here. Isabel. And she—” Her voice falters, lips trembling.I stand slowly. “What?”“She spoke to me like I was nothing. Can you believe how she spoke to me? She even accused me of wishing her dead!”Her chest rises and falls fast, anger mixed with fear pouring from her in sharp breaths. “Sh
Aria POVThe moment I step into the LM Group building, I can feel it—the air is tense, buzzing with something unspoken. It’s in the way the receptionists glance nervously at each other, in the hushed footsteps of employees scurrying past, trying not to draw attention.But it’s when I step further inside that I spot her.Cynthia.She stands like she owns the damn place, as always. Her shoulders back, head high, the kind of look that screams drama cloaked in luxury. A slow, knowing smile tugs at the corner of my lips. Of course she’s here. Probably to pull one of her usual stunts—perform for the gallery like she hasn’t already been exposed. But who would still be sane, knowing just how close they are to losing everything?I barely had to do anything. And yet… now she’s standing right in the middle of her downfall, finally receiving the punishment she deserves.That thought comforts me—for a second.Until I see her turn toward Isabel.I can’t hear what she says, but I see it happen. I se
Isabel’s POVI step out into the cool air, letting the heavy door click shut behind me. A breath pushes past my lips as I lift my face toward the sky, the breeze brushing over my skin like a silent reward.“That was cool,” I murmur to myself, nodding slightly. “You don’t have to let Alexander’s presence affect you. Never again.”He’s not worth it—not the pain, not the confusion, and certainly not the space in my heart. A man who can look you dead in the eye and question your safety like it’s a business inconvenience doesn’t deserve to be kept anywhere near your soul.My hand curls into a fist at my side, nails biting into my palm.“I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure he stays far away from my life for good.”I turn to walk toward my car, heels clicking steadily across the pavement. But just as I reach for the handle, a shift in the air stills me. That familiar scent—too expensive, too calculated—hits before I even see her.Sabrina.The mother hen.Of course.I blink, inhale slowly,