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 POVThe familiar figure catches my eye, and memories of her flood my mind. Aria.The first time we met was at the beach—Roy’s introduction, a brief, polite encounter that held more weight than I’d realized then. But how does she know my mother so well, and why is she speaking to her like family? There’s a familiarity there that unsettles me. Does she know more about my past than I realize?“Aria?” I say, my voice carrying surprise.Her eyes widen when she sees me, and for a second, we both just stare, caught in the shock of recognition. I guess I’m not the only one taken aback.Before either of us speaks, my mom steps forward, her face lighting up with that warm smile she always gives to someone she adores. “Aria, dear!” she beams, wrapping her in a hug.“I didn’t know you two already knew each other!” she exclaims, turning to me with excitement. “Well, that makes it easier then, doesn’t it?” She laughs softly, her smile widening as she introduces Aria to her business friends
Isabel’s POVStanding by the side of my office, I gaze at the sleek building prototype displayed on the shelf. My fingers trail along the edge of the glass frame, my thoughts drifting to Alexander. Is he swamped, drowning under the weight of his deadlines? A faint smile tugs at my lips—he always thrived under pressure. But as the thought lingers, a flicker of doubt surfaces. Will he manage to pull this off, or is this the moment he finally falters?“Ma’am,” Christine’s voice cuts through my musings. She strides in, dropping a file on my desk. “We’ve just received a report from our fashion line. The work has officially begun. The team’s finalizing the collection, ensuring quality control across each design. The feedback from the preview is exceptional—they’re confident it’ll be a major hit.”“Should I demand that the work be put to hold? Especially with the—”“No,” I interject, nodding as I walk to my seat. My heels click against the floor, and I lower myself into the chair, leaning s
Isabel’s POVI promised the kids that if they practiced for their school’s upcoming function—even though it’s weeks away—I’d drop them off at school myself. The earlier they started, the better, right? So here we are. Turning to face them in the backseat, I smile. “Okay, babies, we’re here now,” I say as I unbuckle Scarlett first, lifting her out of the car. Her giggles fill the air as I place her on the ground.Just as I’m reaching for Sterling, a sharp scream cuts through the quiet—though not loud enough to disturb the school’s peace. “Uncle! Mommy, it’s Uncle!” Scarlett exclaims, tugging at my dress before darting off in a direction.“Scarlett!” I call, quickly setting Sterling down. His little fingers wrap tightly around mine as I look toward where Scarlett ran off. “Which uncle is she talking about?” I mutter under my breath. Turning toward the direction, I see him—Alexander. He’s crouched to Scarlett’s height, their chatter filling the air with an ease that catches me off guard.
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