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
Cynthia’s POVI storm out of the hall, anger, confusion, and fury clashing in my chest.Who did I just see back there? Isabel? It can’t be. Isabel’s dead.I dart my eyes around, my breath coming in gasps. My mind must be playing tricks on me, right?I clutch my chest, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts. It feels like I’m going to suffocate under the weight of it all.The noise from the party grows faint as I make my way toward the other side—just any side but the hall, where I can have a moment to myself.If the person inside is Claire Montgomery, and she’s also Isabel, then… What have I done? I grit my teeth, holding my hand up to my mouth, as memories of my meeting with Claire’s representative flash across my mind.No, this can’t be! I must be hallucinating or something. I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut.Maybe I’ve been working too hard, or maybe it’s just the stress of handling everything with Sophia. I wonder why she’s so persistent in coming along with us.My eyes widen like
Isabel’s POVAs I walk back into the hall, my mind is still swirling with thoughts of what just happened. The conversation, the memories—all of it spins together until I hear a familiar, joyful chorus that pulls me back.“Mommy!” Scarlett and Sterling’s voices ring out in perfect harmony, their excitement lifting a weight I didn’t realize was pressing so heavily on my chest.I turn, and the moment freezes. The soft lights of the hall seem to dim, the edges of the room falling away until all I can see are my children running toward me, their faces lit with pure joy. A faint melody drifts from the speakers above—a soft piano tune that barely cuts through the sound of their laughter. Everything else blurs as I drop to my knees, not caring that my dress pools around me on the polished marble floor.“Oh, my babies,” I whisper, opening my arms wide. They crash into me, and the warmth of their small bodies melts the lingering chill in my heart. The familiar scent of baby shampoo fills the ai
Alexander’s POVI’m not at the hotel today. Instead, I’m sitting in my office at the main headquarters of our furniture and design company. The plush leather chair feels solid beneath me, but my thoughts are anything but steady.My fingers tap restlessly against the edge of the desk as I try to make sense of last night—Isabel’s return, her introduction as the Montgomerys’ daughter. How is this even possible? She’s been alive all these years, waiting for the perfect moment to resurface. Why? What exactly is going on in that mind of hers?I shake my head and lean back, fingers lacing behind it. Each time I think about it, confusion digs deeper. Dammit, I can’t wrap my head around it. She stood there, bolder than I ever remember, with those two kids… and that man. Who was he? I suck in a deep breath, my chest tightening with every chaotic thought. Those kids… Could they be hers? No, that’s impossible. I didn’t get a clear look, but something feels off.I stand and cross the room, facing
Isabel’s POVI walk through the glossy marbled floors of the King’s Empire building, each step echoing with purpose. The air is thick with quiet power—assistants darting between elevators, phones ringing in clipped urgency, polished shoes tapping rhythmically against glass floors. But none of it touches me. My focus is razor-sharp.Strike when the iron is hot.Perfect timing isn’t just a tactic—it’s an art.And right now? The fire’s raging.I don’t stop to greet anyone. I don’t pause when heads turn. I know where I’m going.Alexander’s office.When I reach the door, I don’t knock. I push it open with a practiced ease. Bold. Unapologetic.His face lifts from the document he’s reading, surprise—or is that shock?—etching deep into his features. Understandable. I’m not the type to show up uninvited. But today?Today, I’ll bend the rules.If only to twist the reaction I want out of him.He stands slowly, like a lion woken from his throne, cautious but alert. I wrap my arms around my chest,
Isabel’s POV I’m in the middle of a meeting with the team, my fingers tapping lightly against the polished table surface as voices buzz around me. But my mind… my mind drifts elsewhere. It drifts back to that moment at The Elites, to Cynthia’s face—her expression shifting like crashing waves. Shock. Anger. Confusion. Disbelief.The thrill of it makes me scoff under my breath, an involuntary laugh slipping through. A few heads snap in my direction. I quickly adjust in my seat, placing my hand over my lips like I’m clearing my throat. Too late.“Ma’am?” one of the team leads leans in, cautious but direct. “What are we going to do about the event location? Time’s running out. As of now, we still don’t have a confirmed venue.”I nod, slow and thoughtful. Their concern is valid. “We were supposed to partner with The Regency,” I say, voice calm but clipped. “Carl turned us down at the last minute.” My jaw tenses slightly. “Now, it’s either we go back to partnering with The King’s… or we se
Cynthia’s POVHe walks toward me calmly, like a man who didn’t just have his secret ripped from the shadows and laid bare. Without a word, he plucks the photo from my trembling fingers, bends slowly to pick up the book, and straightens with a sigh like this is nothing more than an inconvenience. Like my entire world hasn’t just shifted.He turns his back to me, facing the far end of the room with that irritating stillness he always uses when he’s trying to dismiss a situation.I blink. Once. Twice. The coolness in his posture stuns me—it’s a stark, calculated contrast to what I expected. No shouting. No denial. Just silence. But I refuse to let him act like he doesn’t owe me an explanation.“If you’re here to ask for money again,” he says, his voice hard and sharp, “then just leave. I’m not wasting my money on you—especially not when you’ll end up spending it on shopping sprees.”He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even turn. And that’s what sends my pulse spiking. He’s ignoring it. All of it.
Cynthia’s POVI slam my leg into the air, nearly losing balance as rage swells inside me like a storm. My fists clench tightly by my sides, nails digging into my palms. My mind won’t stop replaying the scene—her smirk, her voice, the smug way Isabel claimed ownership of the flagship store like it was hers all along. And the audacity—the unforgivable nerve—to send me out like I was nothing. Canceling my membership card like I was some common outsider.I scream, the sound raw and guttural, before slamming my hand against the tire of my car. “Damn you, Isabel. Damn you!” I shout again, louder this time. “Who the hell do you think you are?!”My chest heaves, and I pause for a second, my rage momentarily paralyzed by the weight of humiliation. Then, without thinking twice, I yank the car door open and slide in, slamming it shut behind me. My foot hits the gas like I’m crushing every ounce of rage Isabel left behind, and I tear out of the parking lot.Minutes blur together before I’m pul
Isabel’s POVI smooth my hand over the silk fabric hugging my body, taking in the sight of myself in the mirror. A slow, calculating smile tugs at my lips. “Today,” I murmur to my reflection, “I’m going to reveal a part of me Cynthia never knew about. A part I placed in her life for a moment exactly like this.”My fingers graze the velvet box on the vanity, lifting it to reveal a set of emerald-encrusted earrings—bold, elegant, quiet power. As I slip them on, I think of her. I know how much of a big spender Cynthia is. Shopping is her escape when the walls start to close in, when the guilt begins to whisper. But how will it feel when she finally discovers the mastermind behind the elite group she so shamelessly parades around in? The very empire she thought was her playground—mine.Just as I pick up my bracelet, the door bursts open.“Well, well…” Aurora says, arms crossed, eyes twinkling. “I guess today’s the day. I’ve been waiting for this moment forever. Do you know how annoying it
Cynthia’s POVThe glow of the TV screen is the first thing I see when I wake up. The news stares back at me, unrelenting. The same interview that has been flooding the internet since yesterday plays on loop, as if daring me to react.I sit up slowly, pulling my knees to my stomach. My fingers thread through my hair, pushing it back as I take a deep breath. But the words keep replaying, burning themselves into my mind.“It’s true that my daughter Claire is also known as Isabel—the name she has been known for since she was separated from us. We decided to hide the fact that she’s Isabel for her safety.”Victoria Montgomery’s voice feels distant, but it still hits me like a blade.I throw the covers aside, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. My throat feels dry, my chest tightening with something I refuse to name. I reach for the glass pitcher on the nightstand, pouring water into a glass with unsteady hands. The water swirls as I lift it to my lips and down it in one swift gulp,
Isabel’s POVI glance down at my phone again, rereading the message.Don’t worry about picking up the kids, I already got them. Just hurry up to Rosewood Terrace.My brows pull together. Why would Mom want me to hurry up to her? A quiet sense of unease stirs in my chest. I hope there’s nothing wrong. I thought she was still in the middle of that interview?“Change of plans,” I say, breaking the silence. Christine looks over at me, but I don’t elaborate, and she doesn’t push.Travis nods, adjusting his grip on the wheel as he accelerates toward the given location. The hum of the car fills the space, but my mind is restless, running through possibilities.Soon, we pull up to Rosewood Terrace. I take in the surroundings—the warm glow of string lights draped over the outdoor space, the scent of fresh roses lingering in the crisp evening air. There’s an intimacy to the atmosphere, something quiet yet deliberate.Stepping out, I spot her. “Mom.” My voice carries a hint of urgency as I walk
Isabel’s POVI step into the newly built condo, my heels clicking against the polished marble floors. The scent of fresh paint and new beginnings lingers in the air, but all I can think about is the past.This place was once nothing but a blueprint, an idea buried under countless arguments and power struggles with Alexander. The battles over design choices, the endless boardroom meetings, the silent wars we waged in between. I still remember the night before the launch party, standing on the balcony, exhausted yet victorious, knowing that despite everything, I had left my mark on this building. And now, here I am again—without him, but still standing.Christine walks beside me, flipping through her tablet, reading out company updates as we move through the hallways. Her voice is a distant hum in my ears until something—someone—catches my eye.A figure. A fleeting glimpse. Familiar.My breath catches as I turn sharply, my gaze locking onto the spot where I swear I just saw her. Aurora.
Cynthia’s POVThe words hit me harder than I expect. For a second, I don’t just freeze—I fold inward. Because I remember.God. That night.The message did go through.Back then, I had told myself it didn’t. I’d convinced myself I never hit send, or maybe that it landed in a void, unread, unseen. But hearing those exact words repeated now—my words—I know there’s no denying it anymore.“Hi, this is Cynthia Castillo. Can we meet?”I had typed it after one too many glasses of wine, my nerves on fire from Sabrina’s constant nudging. She’d kept insisting Alexander connect with Claire Montgomery—for some business shit, something about how her influence could open doors or elevate their image. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to see what kind of woman this Claire really was. So I sent that message. From my bedroom. Alone, tipsy, and stupid.When nothing came, I let myself believe it was a mistake I’d gotten away with. But now…Hearing her repeat it, in this room, in front of everyone—Shame