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 POVLife has finally settled back into its usual rhythm. The buzz around the upcoming collection launch is louder than ever, and work keeps me occupied. Everything is back to normal—or at least, it should be.But something feels off.Eva Langley.Her confession video had cleared the air, but it wasn’t enough. The damage she caused… the lives she tried to ruin—it can’t just be brushed aside. She needs to be held accountable. She needs to pay. But she’s nowhere to be found. Ever since the video surfaced, she’s vanished.The door to my office swings open, pulling me from my thoughts. I look up—only to see Aria standing there.Shock stills me. “Aria?”She just got out of the hospital. Shouldn’t she be resting?I’m already on my feet, gesturing to the chair. “I can’t believe you. You should be resting, so why did you come all the way here?”Aria smiles, a light chuckle escaping her lips. “You talk as if I’ve broken a leg.”I huff at her humor, the tension lifting slightly, if only
Alexander’s POVI freeze mid-step.Isabel?The moment I see her walk out of Collins’ office, my mind goes blank. She doesn’t even glance at me, just strides past like I’m nothing but air. Like I never existed to her. The indifference in her expression, the way her shoulders are squared as if she’s holding herself together—it unsettles me more than I care to admit.What the hell is she doing here? What business does she have with Collins?Something isn’t right. I can feel it.I push the door open, stepping in and shutting it behind me. Collins barely flinches, though I catch the flicker of shock that flashes across his face before he masks it with a smooth smile. He’s quick—too quick—to change the atmosphere.“Oh, buddy, you’re here.” He walks out from behind his desk, all casual. “So, how was your visit to Carl Edward? Hmmm, I’m sure now he’ll be scared to ever mess with you again. I know just how to deal with dudes like him. Dudes like him are careful about letting their personal aff
Cynthia’s POV The dimly lit room hums with quiet sophistication as I swirl the wine in my glass, watching the deep red liquid catch the faint glow of the chandelier. The air is thick with the scent of aged wood and expensive leather, a setting that matches the confidence coursing through me.Then, the door creaks open.I don’t turn immediately. Instead, I glance sideways, catching James in my peripheral vision. He stands there, his posture tense, but there’s something different about him tonight. A certainty.“Hope this isn’t going to be one of your excuses again.” My voice is smooth, laced with just the right amount of impatience. I tilt my chin slightly, taking another slow sip, daring him to prove me wrong.James exhales weakly and steps forward, closing the distance before I can react. His arms wrap around me from behind, tight—too tight. There’s something desperate in the way he holds me, something that sets my teeth on edge.I stiffen. This isn’t why I’m here.Pushing against h
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,