Alexander’s POVThe condo is finally complete, and here we are—my mother and I—seated in the expansive lounge of the building that now symbolizes one of our company’s greatest achievements. The room hums with energy as executives begin to file in, their excitement palpable. Today is the launch, and it feels monumental.One of our senior executives approaches me, his stride confident and composed. “Congratulations, Alex, for pulling this off,” he says, extending his hand. His grip is firm, his eyes steady, radiating assurance as he holds my gaze for a moment before turning to exchange pleasantries with my mother. The interaction is brief, but his confidence feels like a nod of approval, a reminder that this project has made an impact.As more executives take their seats, the room begins to buzz with conversation. The flashes of cameras go off at every angle, capturing this significant moment. I settle into my seat, only for my gaze to lock with Roy’s across the room. His expression is u
Isabel’s POVCynthia strides into the room with calculated grace, her entrance commanding attention as if the entire event were curated solely for her. Her eyes lock with mine, and for a moment, the air between us feels heavy, laden with unspoken tension. Her lips curve into a faint smile, but it’s not one of warmth—no, it’s deliberate, sharp, meant to cut. Then, as though dismissing me entirely, she glides toward Alexander. With a practiced elegance, she loops her hand around his arm, her fingers curling possessively, her head tilting just slightly as she flashes a radiant smile for anyone who might be watching.I laugh softly under my breath, swirling my drink as I watch him. The tension in his shoulders, the clench of his jaw—it’s all too familiar, a silent plea to escape her grasp. There was a time when I might’ve pitied him. Now? I savor the sight, every ounce of his discomfort a vindication I didn’t know I needed.”Just then, My mother leans in close, her voice low but pointed.
Isabel’s POVI let her words hang in the air, savoring the weight of her audacity. Slowly, I take a step closer, the corner of my mouth curling into the faintest hint of a smile. Her confidence wavers—just a flicker, but enough for me to notice.“Cynthia,” I say evenly, my tone as smooth as silk. “What a surprise.”Her face remains composed, but her posture stiffens. “I thought I’d come and celebrate your success,” she says, her voice laced with mock sincerity. “It’s quite the achievement.”I tilt my head, studying her. “I appreciate the gesture,” I reply, letting my voice dip slightly, enough to make her uneasy. “But if I wanted your congratulations, I would have asked for it.”Her smile falters, her lips twitching as though searching for the right response. I don’t give her the chance.“Especially not from someone who almost ruined this project,” I continue, my voice dropping lower, sharper.Cynthia’s eyes widen, and for a moment, the mask slips. The confidence she wore like armor c
Isabel’s POVThe tension between us thickens, a silent, charged moment stretching as Cynthia’s hand hovers midair. The way her eyes burn into mine, full of frustration and humiliation, is almost enough to make me laugh. Almost.But I know her too well—this isn’t just anger. It’s desperation. She’s cornered, her reputation slipping through her fingers like water, and she’ll grasp at anything to pull me down with her.I leave my hand extended for a beat longer, just long enough for the crowd to notice, enough for the cameras to snap their damning shots. And then I let my arm fall, stepping back.Her sharp intake of breath is satisfying—almost.She clenches her jaw, fury flashing in her eyes. Before her hand can reach mine, I take a deliberate step back, letting my arm drop to my side. Her intentions are clear—dragging me into the pool would be the perfect way for her to level the playing field. But I’m no fool. Not tonight.A false smile curls on my lips as I tilt my head, my tone dripp
Cynthia’s POVI sit on my bed, my fingers curled into tight fists as I replay the incident at the party. The laughter, the gasps, the humiliation. My dress clinging to my body, the cold water shocking my system as I struggled to stay afloat, my vision blurring with fury and shame. The memory is so vivid it makes my blood boil.Before I realize it, I’m on my feet, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts. My nails dig into my palms as I recall Claire standing by the pool, her gaze steady—too steady. She had pulled back her hand at the last second, as if she had sensed something. My jaw clenches. Isabel hates water. She doesn’t even know how to swim.My eyes widen, my pulse racing as a thought slams into me. I scoff, shaking my head, but the suspicion lingers, growing stronger. Could Claire have sensed what I was about to do? Could she have known I was moments away from pulling her in?I push my hair back, frustration coursing through me. That was my perfect chance. If I had dragged her
Aria’s POV“This is nice. I want my birthday hall looking just like this,” the client says, her eyes sweeping over the final design on the screen.I smile, maintaining the perfect balance of warmth and professionalism. “Of course. I deliver the best,” I reply with confidence, my tone smooth, certain.She stands, smoothing her designer dress, and I rise with her, following as she makes her way toward the exit. With a final nod of approval, she steps out, leaving me alone in the meeting room.Sinking back into my seat, I grab my phone from my bag, my lips curving into a wide smile. This was a big win—a major client Aunt Victoria had recommended me for—and I want to tell Roy.My hand hovers over the screen, but before I can call, my mind drifts back to last night. The way Roy had dropped me off, his voice lingering in my mind—Good luck with your meeting tomorrow, Aria.A shiver runs down my spine, my fingers unconsciously tightening around the phone. The way he smiled at me… it made me h
Collins’ POVI pull into the parking lot, cutting the engine before stepping out. It’s going to be a long day—I can already feel it. As I make my way toward the building, something tugs at my mind. Did I send that file out earlier?I stop in my tracks, mentally retracing my steps. Damn it. If I didn’t—Then it clicks. I did. A sharp exhale leaves my lips. That would’ve been a disaster.Just as I turn to keep walking, I collide with someone—hard. Aria.Her hands flail as she loses balance, and without thinking, I grab her before she hits the ground. My heart nearly stops. The thought of her actually falling makes my chest tighten. But then she regains herself just as quickly, pulling away like my touch burns her.She bends, gathering her scattered belongings, her movements quick and dismissive. Shit. I crouch to help, but my eyes land on the phone she clutches tightly. The screen is cracked.I swallow thickly. “Is it—”She snatches it closer to her chest and stands abruptly, her gaze m
Isabel’s POVTwo weeks have passed since the condo launch, and it’s been thriving beyond projections. Investors are pleased, occupancy rates are soaring, and the media won’t stop talking about its seamless integration of luxury and modern design. It’s exactly the kind of success I had envisioned—though not in the way I had wanted.Striding out of the conference room, I adjust the sleeves of my blazer. The meeting had just concluded, a brief but necessary discussion on the condo’s progress. Numbers were good, the demand steady, but there was still work to be done.“Christine,” I call as I pass by her desk.She’s already alert, standing at attention. “Yes, ma’am?”“Send out a follow-up to the investors. I want a detailed report on their feedback within the next twenty-four hours. And get marketing to push the new campaign sooner rather than later.”Christine dips her head. “I’ll get it done.” Without hesitation, she turns and strides off, efficient as ever.I continue my walk toward my
Isabel’s POVThe sound splits the air like thunder.But it doesn’t hit me.I don’t even see it happen—just feel the sudden force of Roy’s body slamming into mine, shoving me aside in one sharp, protective motion.Then comes the crack of bone, the dull thud of impact, and the sickening sound of him crashing to the floor.“No… no, no—” I gasp, stumbling back as my eyes drop to him.He’s on the ground. Blood.So much blood.Spilling out from the side of his torso, soaking through his shirt and pooling beneath him like a dark, blooming flower. My ears ring, my hands tremble as I drop to my knees beside him, unable to breathe, unable to think.“Roy!” I cry, crawling toward him, grabbing his shoulders. “Roy!”The world around me explodes with chaos. Screams. Footsteps. The shriek of people rushing in from the hall. My guards storm out, guns drawn, shouting orders, some flanking me immediately, while others bolt after the motorcycles tearing away through the entrance, engines roaring into th
Isabel’s POVI’ve been standing in this corner for a while now. My eyes keep scanning the space—back and forth, every shadow, every movement—but still, nothing. No sign. No trace. Not even a whisper of someone watching. I bite down hard on my bottom lip, frustration swirling inside me.But how’s that even possible?If someone’s truly been watching my every move—dropping letters like the last one, you can’t get away from me—then they should know I’m here. Alone. Waiting. Isn’t that the perfect opportunity? Isn’t this exactly what they’ve been waiting for?Damn it.This was supposed to be it—the night I catch whoever it is. The night I uncover every damn truth that’s been clawing at my peace for months. But now… silence.I’m so lost in my head that I don’t notice the hand until it lands on my shoulder.My heart sinks.My breath catches as I whirl around, bracing for a blow—only to find Christine’s wide eyes staring at me.“Ma’am,” she says quickly, her voice tight with concern. “Are you
Alexander’s POVIt’s not just her beauty.It never was.It’s the way she carries herself. Regal, yet detached. That air of quiet defiance, like she doesn’t need to try—like she was born to own every damn space she walks into. Even now, standing in the center of this glittering hall with eyes trailing after her like moths to flame, I still can’t figure her out. And I hate that about her.I tell myself I feel nothing but anger toward her. But the moment I see her—just one glance—and I lose grip.My eyes flick, without permission, to the slit in her dress. Her skin catches the light like satin, a soft shimmer that holds my gaze longer than it should. My attention moves to her lips—watching the way they move as she speaks to someone across the room. I know every curve of those lips, every silent message they used to send me.I drag my eyes away, clenching my jaw as I shake my head.Damn it.I curse under my breath, angry at myself. At this weakness. She shouldn’t still have this effect on
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,