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 POV“Change that dress, you look awful in it.” Alexander said in a commanding tone.The dress, a red revealing short gown, which hugged my curves, featuring a daring plunging neckline.Glancing through myself and looking back at the mirror, I asked, “what’s wrong with my dress, not like it’s the first time am wearing it.”“I don’t have to give you any explanation or talk further on this, just change it like I said!” He retorted.His tone is cold, but still handsome as ever.He stood at an imposing 6’3”, his height adding to his commanding presence.Alexander used to love me. I want to believe so.He used to be a loving and doting husband. Even though there’s a side of him that I’m yet to understand. He’s sometimes aggressive, tends to be controlling and commanding.I’ve tried to talk to him, but it always ends in arguments, never accepting the fact that he has an issue.It has just been messy.My once loving husband has turned to a stranger.I couldn't even break the news of
Alexander’s POVI sit in my office, my gaze fixed through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows, beyond which the cityscape stretched out in a mosaic of bustling life.It gnawed on me, a memory of my upbringing which I think is affecting my relationship with Isabel.While growing up, I had always seen my mum, Sabrina, command my father, Williams, to do anything she wanted, because she was making more money than him. And I had thought that’s the norm.Having more money than your partner in marriage means you call the shot. You’re in control of whatever goes on or happens in your home. Why would Isabel think I love her less simply because I commented on her dress? I worked hard proving to my mother that I’m capable of running the company, making lots of money, so I won’t have to be like my dad when married.Gosh! I pace my office, running my hands through my hair. I hate it when Isabel gives me those looks, with her shimmering silver gray eyes, which send down a cold shiver down my
Isabel’s POVmy eyes opened to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the room curtains.The unfamiliar ceiling of the room came into focus.Where am I? I asked myself, feeling a slight ache.I groaned softly, pressing a hand on my temple as I tried to piece together the fragments of last night. I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to remember how I got here.What happened? I thought to myself, anxiety bubbling as I pushed myself to sit up.I scanned the room, searching for any clues that might jog my memory, but everything looked untouched, pristine, almost sterile.The mirror across the room caught my eye.Slowly, I stood, wrapping a sheet around me as I walked over.My reflection looking back at me- disheveled hair, makeup smudged.My eyes wide with confusion and fear.I noticed a faint bruise on my shoulder, but there’s no pain, just the unsettling sense of not knowing how it got there.I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.I need to figure this out, to make sense
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
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
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
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
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
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 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
Isabel’s POVChristine stands before me, her hands neatly clasped behind her back, her tone measured but laced with quiet frustration. “Ma’am, there’s been no progress on identifying the masked man. No leads, no trace—nothing concrete to go on so far.”I lean back into my leather chair, letting her words hang in the air like a weight I can’t shake off. The sound of my pen scraping against the smooth surface of my desk breaks the silence, a small action, yet it somehow eases the tension in the room. I focus on that small distraction, letting it calm the ever-growing unease swirling in my mind. How is it possible for someone to vanish completely, without even a hint, a whisper of where they’ve gone? It doesn’t make sense, but I can’t let it show. Not yet.I tilt my head slightly, my gaze narrowing on Christine. She’s always been loyal, but there’s something in her demeanor today that feels different—more uncertain. I can see it in the way she avoids eye contact, the slight hesitation
Cynthia’s POVI sit up on the bed, my mind replaying Claire’s words from earlier at the school, her voice smooth yet laced with an edge. With that infuriating smile of hers, she said, “Let’s be clear, Cynthia. It’s always better to know where you stand. You wouldn’t want to make an enemy of me—not when I can make things… difficult.” The smile on her face never wavered, but the words lingered, carrying a weight I couldn’t ignore.Pushing my hair back, I think about the way she glared at me, her expression a clear message: she was in control now. The memory tightens my chest, my irritation building with every passing second. I couldn’t even defend my daughter, not when the partnership between our foundations had just been announced. As someone with a high profile, I couldn’t afford a public spectacle, but the restraint burned.“Shit,” I mutter, running my hand through my hair again, the gesture harsher this time. Next time, I won’t stay quiet and let her rub it in my face as if I’m supp