Isabel’s POVCollins pulls on his jacket, his movements unhurried, deliberate. He clears his throat, then takes the seat directly opposite me, leaning back with an air of easy confidence. His sharp gaze locks onto mine, a slow smirk tugging at his lips.“Wow, Miss Claire Montgomery,” he drawls, his tone laced with amusement. “I never knew I could be of help to you someday.”I chuckle softly, shaking my head. He hasn’t changed. Collins was always quick with words, sharp and calculating, even back when I was married to his best friend. He had a way of baiting people, setting traps with nothing but his tone, and watching them walk right in.Facing him now feels like stepping into a familiar battlefield, but I push the feeling aside. I straighten, my expression cool.“I’m going to cut to the point, Mr. Collins West,” I say smoothly, meeting his gaze. “I’m not here for myself.”His smirk deepens, but before he can respond, I continue.“Where is Eva Langley?”The name lands between us like
Collins’ POVThere’s something sharp about Isabel—something that was always there, even when she was just Isabel. But she never wielded it the way she does now. It was there, buried beneath the surface. And now, as Claire, she doesn’t hold it back. She watches me, waiting for my next move, like she’s already ten steps ahead.She’s here for answers. That much is clear. But what she doesn’t realize is that she’s not the only one searching for them.I let her speak, watching as she lays out her accusations with cold precision. There’s no hesitation in her voice when she brings up Eva Langley, no flicker of doubt when she says there’s a warrant out for her arrest. She’s not here to negotiate—she’s here to make demands.Typical Claire.But then she says a name.Aria.It’s a name I’ve been trying to push aside, to pretend doesn’t affect me. Yet, the moment it leaves her lips, I feel it—the tightening in my chest, the unwanted rush of memory. The last time I saw Aria, she was lying in a hosp
Collins’ POVIsabel stands stiffly, her arms crossed over her chest, fingers gripping her sleeves like she’s holding herself together. Her jaw is tight, lips pressed into a thin line, but it’s her eyes that give her away—darting, searching, calculating. She’s worried. Tense. And she’s trying to hide it.I watch the way her shoulders rise and fall in a slow, controlled breath, but it does little to ease the tension running through her frame. Her gaze flickers toward Aria, just for a second, before she pulls it away, as if she can’t afford to linger. But I see it—the pain buried deep in her eyes.And that’s what makes this even harder.I shouldn’t be hesitating. My loyalty should be clear. Alexander has always been my closest friend, the one I should stand by no matter what. But then there’s Aria. Aria, who never asked for any of this. Aria, who’s being misunderstood, trapped in a storm someone else created.I rake a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is
Isabel’s POVCollins’ words send a jolt through me. Eva is missing.I tense, my mind racing. Could he be lying? Another trick to divert attention? No—he’s the only one who knew where she was. So why now? Why this sudden disappearance?Then, he says my name.“Isabel.”The way he calls me—low, steady, familiar—makes me turn toward him without a second thought. It’s the same way he used to say my when I was still married to Alexander. The echo of it stirs something deep within me, a reflex I can’t quite shake. But I push it aside, my gaze sharp, expectant.He wouldn’t call me like that without a good reason.Then I see it—the small drive in his hand.“This contains all of Eva’s confession,” Collins says, his voice even, controlled.For a moment, I don’t know how to feel. Relief? Because this could finally clear Aria’s name. Or suspicion? Because how was this possible?Eva was determined, ruthless. She was ready to go all in to ruin Aria’s image. She wouldn’t have given this confession so
Roy’s POVRelief settles in my chest as I watch Aria, now stable, resting against the pillows. The weight of not knowing if she’d make it through the night finally lifts. I glance toward Isabel, expecting to see the same relief mirrored in her expression.And I do.She looks at me, her eyes soft in a way that sends a strange warmth through me. As the doctor finishes his final instructions and leaves the room, silence follows. Isabel doesn’t say much, just a small nod in my direction, but something lingers in her gaze—something unreadable.I notice the way her attention shifts, her body tensing slightly, as if she’s suddenly somewhere else in her mind. Before I can ask, she exhales and murmurs, “I’ll… I’ll be outside.” A quick motion toward the door, and she’s gone.I watch the space she just occupied, a frown tugging at my brows, but Aria’s soft sigh pulls me back.Minutes drag on as I help her lie back down, adjusting the blanket over her. Her breathing steadies, her lashes flutterin
Collins’ POVMy hands tighten into fists as I step closer, rage surging through my veins like fire.“What right do you have?” My voice is razor-sharp, cutting through the air as I glare at Cynthia. “What gives you the damn right to do this to Aria?”She flinches but recovers fast, lifting her chin like she’s untouchable. But she isn’t—not today.I lunge before I can stop myself, my fingers wrapping around her throat, squeezing. Hard. She gasps, her nails clawing at my hand, desperate for breath. But I don’t let go. Not yet.“You ruined her,” I growl, my grip tightening. “Destroyed her business, humiliated her—why, Cynthia? Why the hell would you do that?”Her eyes widen, panic flashing across her face as she struggles, her legs kicking against the floor. She wheezes, lips parting like she wants to say something, but no words come out.A rush of satisfaction coils in my gut, but then—“Collins!”A voice slices through the fog of rage, distant at first, then clearer.“Collins, man, snap
Isabel’s POVIt’s been a few days since Eva’s confession video was released, and the internet hasn’t stopped buzzing about it. People are shocked—outraged, even—at the lengths she went to just because she was paid to ruin someone’s life. But the real question remains: who paid her? The video never mentioned a name. Was she protecting someone, or was this just another attempt to manipulate the narrative and divert attention from herself? No one has been able to find her since the video surfaced, and that only makes everything more suspicious.I sigh, shaking my head as I pass by my mother’s room. But then, a strange sound stops me in my tracks. Muffled, restless movements. A whimper. My chest tightens.Without thinking, I push the door open and rush inside.My mother is trembling, her body jerking slightly as if caught in a nightmare. Her brows are deeply furrowed, her lips parting as she mumbles something I can’t understand. Her fingers clench at the sheets, twisting them tightly in h
Anonymous POVI slam my hand against the table, the sharp crack slicing through the silence like a whip.“You’re all idiots. A bunch of useless idiots.” My voice is cold, controlled, but the frustration simmering beneath it is lethal.No one speaks. No one even breathes too loudly. They know better.I exhale slowly, dragging my gaze over them like a blade. My eyes land on one of my men—stiff, shoulders squared, pretending he isn’t about to piss himself.“You.” My voice drops, quiet but deadly. “You never complete your tasks. Always excuses.”He flinches. Doesn’t dare speak.I take a step toward him, watching a bead of sweat roll down his temple. “You had your chance at the cemetery,” I say, voice smooth, almost conversational. “And what did you do? You came back whining about Alex.” I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Tell me, how?”He swallows thickly, but I don’t have the patience for his pathetic stammering.I shift my gaze. Eva.She’s crouched by the side, fidgeting like a scared
Isabel’s POVI’m still frozen—still in shock—barely able to feel my own breath, much less the dull ache spreading across my chest. The only thing louder than the sound of my pulse is the voice that suddenly rips through the air.“Is this the plan you were talking about? I thought your plan was to avenge Cynthia for all she’s done. How come you had Roy involved in it too?”The voice is raw. Strained. Like it clawed its way up from a place of pain. Each word crashes into me like thunder, louder as the footsteps draw closer. And then… we all turn.Aria.Her red-rimmed eyes land on me with blistering intensity. Her face is crimson, cheeks flushed with rage, and her fists are clenched tight by her sides like she’s fighting every urge to lash out. Her chest heaves, her shoulders rigid with emotion.The silence becomes deafening. Every head turns as she walks forward—past the nurses, past the waiting chairs—right into the center of the tension. No one moves. No one speaks. We just watch, hel
Alexander’s POVI’m still trying to wrap my head around it.Isabel knew.All this time… she knew.I sit there, breathing like I’ve been sprinting for miles, my hands pressed against my face, dragging down slowly as if doing so could pull the disbelief away with them. My heart pounds, not from exertion, but from the weight of realization.I never imagined—never even considered—that she’d found out about what happened between me and Cynthia at the Euphoria Club.What I tried so damn hard to hide… what I let destroy everything good I had… she knew?From the start?I sacrificed our marriage to keep that night buried, thinking if I only held on to the part where she cheated on me, maybe it would be enough to protect my image.Maybe—just maybe—if she never found out about my mistake too, I could live with it.I wasn’t trying to shield her from the truth… I just didn’t want her to see me differently.I wanted to stay the one who was wronged. The one who had a reason to let go.But all this w
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