Alexander’s POVI tell you, I’m such a fool. I pace around my office, taking a halt at the window as I take in the view of the city sprawled beneath me. The world outside seemed calm, distant, but my mind was anything but. That night at the old pier keeps following through my mind. I stood on the pier for hours, the salty wind whipping around me, the wooden planks creaking under my weight. Every gut felt like a whisper of mockery, each splash of water a reminder of how foolish I was for coming. I couldn’t stop glancing over my shoulder, expecting—no, hoping—to see something move in the shadows. But there was only darkness, deep and suffocating, pressing down on me like a bad omen. I take a deep breath. Why would I get such a message if the person had no intention of showing up? Is there something more to it? I force myself to shake off the memory, but the questions linger as I reach for my Americano, letting the rich aroma fill the room.My thoughts were interrupted when Susan wal
Cynthia’s POVI’m deep in the bliss of my much-needed sleep when the incessant ringing of my phone yanks me out of it.My eyes flutter open, squinting at the brightness of the screen flashing beside me.Who the hell is disturbing my sleep this early? Even though it’s past 12 p.m., to me, it’s still early. After the exhausting outreach yesterday, the last thing I want is to be disturbed.Agnes. My PA.Her name flashes across the screen, and immediately my face contorts in a scowl. Anger surges through me.She knows better than to call me at this hour, especially when I’ve informed them I’m not coming to the office today.I’ve warned her a thousand times about this, and if she’s calling me for something trivial, she’s as good as fired.I grab my phone, my fingers gripping it tightly, practically vibrating with irritation.Taking a deep breath, I answer with a low growl. “This better be important, Agnes.”Her voice comes through, shaky and tense. Worry?That’s unlike her. “Ma’am, you nee
Cynthia’s POVThe phone won’t stop ringing.Every call brings worse news, and in an instant, I lose billions of naira.If this is how it feels falling from grace to grass, then I’m finally feeling it.Most of our sponsors pull out one by one, the major ones already gone.This is bad.How can one stupid—one poorly chosen moment in front of a hidden camera—make me lose everything I’ve worked for?I glare at the screen, disgust welling up inside me. I hate the internet.They’re all fools, a bunch of idiots! The way people share and comment like vultures on a carcass, feeding on whatever scandal they can find.It’s like some twisted scene from a movie, except this time I refuse to be the tragic character that loses everything. I’m not going to end up like them. There’s a way out. There must be.I pick up my phone, desperation clawing at me as I dial my father’s number.Even if everyone turns their back on me, he won’t. I want to believe so.I’m his only child, after all.He answers after
Alexander’s POVI sit by the wine bar, my fingers lightly tracing the rim of my glass as I replay the day in my mind—every word, every look, every moment that seems to unravel all at once.The Montgomerys are revealing their missing daughter to the world tomorrow. They keep making it seem like they’ve struck gold with her.What’s the point of a party? Well, considering we got the check, I won’t mind if they keep throwing parties every weekend. I scoff.Just as I’m about to take another sip, I catch sight of Cynthia passing by, dressed in a figure-hugging mini dress made of sleek, shimmering fabric that catches the light.I glare at her as she walks past, pretending not to notice me. For a second, I wonder where she might be heading this late at night, dressed like that.Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never been interested in her, her looks, or anything related to her.But for the sake of my family’s reputation, I can’t just let it slide. And for god’s sake, she’s a mother! What kind of exam
Isabel’s POVI stand before the mirror, my heart racing beneath the surface, refusing to reveal the anxiety simmering inside.Today isn’t just any day—it’s the day the world learns my true identity, the long-lost daughter of the Montgomery family. I release a slow, steady breath, forcing calm to replace my nerves.Five years have passed since I last faced Alexander, Cynthia, and the meddling Mother Hen—Sabrina King. The thought of seeing them—especially Alexander—tightens a cold knot in my chest. I remember the last words he said, the look in his eyes when he handed me the divorce papers. I can’t afford to show my rage, not tonight.“Sis, you look absolutely gorgeous,” Aurora’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, her reflection joining mine in the mirror.Her eyes sparkle with pride and excitement as she adjusts her gown, a stunning midnight blue that shimmers under the chandelier light.“You’re ready for this, Isabel… Claire.” She rolls her eyes, and I can’t help smiling. “More than r
Alexander’s POVI stride down the hall, adjusting the cufflinks of my tailored white tuxedo, the soft notes of piano drifting through the air. A gentle melody echoes from the grand piano near the far end of the ballroom, mingling with the quiet hum of conversations. The weight of success settles comfortably on my shoulders.The tux fits like a second skin, and the subtle gleam of my Rolex catches the light with each step. Cynthia is by my side, her manicured fingers curled around my arm, projecting the image of a perfect, polished couple. Her presence beside me is calculated, rehearsed—just like everything else in our public life.Tonight is it.The hotel ballroom is filled with a who’s who of elites, business magnates, and influential figures. The Montgomerys sure know how to gather power under one roof. I let a smile play on my lips as the camera flashes capture the moment, bathing us in a soft glow. Golden accents on the walls catch the light of the chandeliers, casting a warm, a
Isabel’s POVA light knock on the glass catches my attention. It’s Christine, signaling to Travis that it’s time.I look up, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror. “It’s time, ma’am,” he says quietly, his voice calm but firm.I press my lips into a thin line, releasing out a deep sigh. The weight of what lies ahead settles over me. I can’t avoid facing them forever. If I’m going to do this, there’s no better time than now.As I step out of the car, blinding lights from countless cameras flash around me. The sharp, rapid clicks of shutters surround me—a reminder of who I am, of who they all believe I am.Claire Montgomery.The name feels heavy on my shoulders, like a cloak I’ve yet to fully embrace. Like I earlier stated, it’s the name given to me by my real mother before we were torn apart. Being Claire Montgomery is the only way to stay hidden, to stay safe. I take a deep breath, the cool night air filling my lungs. Tonight, I don’t just show up as Isabel—I show up as the daughter
Alexander’s POVI’m not dreaming. It’s real. Like, it’s fucking real. She’s here—standing before the crowd as Leonard Montgomery introduces her as their daughter. Their daughter. His speech ends, and the crowd erupts into cheers, but I can’t move. My hands stay limp at my sides as shock roots me to the spot. I turn my head slowly to look at Cynthia, her jaw still slack as though her mind is trying to piece together what we’re witnessing. Finally, she glances at me, her face tight with confusion, before excusing herself. Good. Perfect. I don’t need her buzzing around me right now. My gaze snaps back to Isabel—or is it Claire Montgomery?—as she stands poised and radiant in front of the crowd. How? How is she alive? And if she’s alive, why couldn’t I find her? But then again, I didn’t search, did I? Not really. I convinced myself it was pointless. I’d buried my guilt under a mountain of excuses—telling myself it was better to move on, that it was what she would’ve wanted. Bu
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,