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 POVIt’s been days since my official welcome party, but the city’s rhythm hasn’t quite settled into my veins. The sprawling mansion, the unfamiliar streets, even the morning light filtering through the windows—it all feels new. Too new.I sit across from my mother at the breakfast table, her poise as steady as ever as she goes over Scarlett and Sterling’s school enrollment. She speaks with the confidence of someone who believes everything will fall perfectly into place, as it always has for her.“Scarlett will love the extracurriculars,” she says, her tone soothing, like a balm for my anxious thoughts. “And Sterling? He’s going to charm every teacher in sight, just like he always does.”I nod, but my mind struggles to keep up. “I just don’t know how they’ll cope with the change,” I admit, my voice softer than I intended. “They were starting to adjust in New York, and now… now it’s all happening again. What if it’s too much for them?”My eyes dart to her, hoping for reassuranc
Alexander’s POVMy phone rings, startling me from the whirlwind of thoughts that have clouded my mind ever since I told my mom about taking up the task.I check the ID and instantly bring the phone to my ear as Collins’ voice flows through the speaker.“Alex, just as you asked me to, I’ve run some investigations on this present Isabel…” He pauses, as if hesitating on what to say next.My breath catches in my throat as a million thoughts race through my mind. Why is he pausing? I know something is up. This woman isn’t Claire; she’s Isabel. She has to be. This is just some elaborate ruse. But how? “C’mon, Collins, this isn’t the time to pause. Just spill it, will you?” I say darkly, my hand tightening around the phone in anticipation.“Hey, relax. I know you won’t believe it, but what I’m about to tell you is nothing but the truth,” he replies, his voice laced with some kind of satisfaction.“From the records,” he continues, “she is Claire, not Isabel. But, something feels strange. She
Isabel’s POV“Ma’am, Ma’am.” Christine’s voice cuts through my thoughts, her tone soft but insistent.I blink, shaking off the haze, and lean back in my chair with a sigh.“Is everything alright? You seemed lost for a moment.” She leans in slightly, her brows knitting with concern.I don’t respond right away. Instead, I exhale deeply, letting my shoulders slump. How do I even begin to explain the strange feeling this unknown number stirs in me?Christine straightens, recognizing my silence. “You’ve got a packed schedule today, ma’am. I suggest we get started.” She places an iPad on my desk.I glance at the screen but remain quiet. My thoughts keep drifting back to the countless times that number has called. What if it’s an emergency? I sit up abruptly and reach for my phone. Or what if it’s nothing? Just some random person—or maybe… I hesitate, my fingers tapping on the desk. No. I need to focus.“The team meeting will begin shortly,” Christine reminds me, her voice pulling me back to
Alexander’s POVI pull up in front of the LM Group building, its striking design catching my eye. Towering glass and steel reflect the city’s light, an impressive monument to success.But I’m not here to admire architecture. My focus is solely on the CEO—Isabel.The thought of her makes my stomach tighten. She’s barely been back, and already, she’s making decisions that directly impact my company. Or rather, my family’s company.My fingers tighten around the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. Anger surges first—familiar, burning—but underneath it, something more dangerous stirs. Regret? Longing? I shake my head, forcing those thoughts aside. Isabel isn’t just a ghost from my past; she’s a threat to everything I’ve built. And yet, the mere thought of facing her again has my pulse hammering like I’m some rookie walking into his first boardroom.Stepping out of the car, I adjust my suit and stride toward the entrance. Inside, the reception area is pristine, almost sterile, with
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
Isabel’s POVSilence. Heavy. Suffocating.Cynthia’s eyes lock onto mine, dark and brimming with something between fury and disbelief. The weight of Robert’s words still lingers in the air, thick as smoke, curling around the room and seeping into every crack of tension. I watch as her lips part, then press together—like she’s trying to swallow the impossible.Then, she laughs. A hollow, humorless sound. Sharp. Cold.“You’re joking, right?”Her voice carries a brittle edge, like a glass just before it shatters. But there’s no amusement in her expression. Only the slight tremor in her fingers betrays the frustration simmering beneath her carefully built walls.Robert doesn’t answer. Instead, he steps forward, measured and unshaken, before dropping the file right in front of her. The sound echoes, a dull thud that cuts through the air like a final verdict.Cynthia’s gaze flickers downward. Her grip tightens around the edge of the file as her eyes scan the words, absorbing the reality of w
Isabel’s POV“Ma’am, are you sure about this?”Christine’s voice cuts through the stillness of my office, careful yet firm. I pause mid-motion, my fingers grazing the edge of my desk as my mind momentarily drifts.I had given her the instruction earlier. A video will be going up soon—a direct response to Cynthia’s pathetic attempt to smear my name. She started this war, going public and painting me as some villain. The hell with her.I never intended for things to escalate this far. Initially, all I wanted was to rub it in their faces—how it feels to have someone more powerful breathing down their necks, disrupting their perfect little world. To make their marriage a sweet, bitter hell. Because they both deserved it. After everything they had done, this was the least of what they should suffer.But I was too calm about it. Too merciful.Cynthia has always loved to bark. Loud, persistent, desperate for attention. But now… now I’ll show her what happens when you bark without the bite to
Cynthia’s POVThe air in the boardroom is thick with unspoken thoughts. The executives sit stiffly around the long table, their gazes flicking between one another, avoiding direct eye contact with me. Some fidget with their pens, others drum their fingers against the table, their silence louder than words.I clear my throat, leaning forward slightly, my fingers locking together as I scan each of them. “I know you’re all wondering why this meeting,” I begin, my voice even, measured. “And I also know that none of you are strangers to the news.”The reaction is immediate—bodies shifting, pens stilled, a few glances exchanged. A chair creaks as someone adjusts their posture. Some try to mask their discomfort, their expressions carefully neutral, but I see it. I feel it.My temples throb, and I press my fingers against them briefly before exhaling sharply. “Yes, I know I agreed to the partnership with Claire.” My voice is steady, but there’s a deliberate pause before I continue, my nails p
Isabel’s POVI’m home. Finally. But peace? Nowhere in sight.“See why I never supported you returning?” My mother’s voice cuts through the air, thick with frustration. She paces the room, eyes sharp with anger. “That evil girl Cynthia will never let you rest! Look at this—she’s already revealed your true identity to the public. What next? She’ll paint you as a cheat? How shameless can she be? And now, she dares to spread lies, saying you’re not even a Montgomery!”She throws her phone onto the coffee table, her chest rising and falling as she exhales sharply. I just sit there, staring at the screen, the comments from Cynthia’s post flashing in my mind.Isabel Montgomery? Isn’t that Claire?No way! Claire and Isabel might look alike, but their class is different!Claire is classy and polished—Isabel? Not so much.Maybe she was hiding in plain sight all along.Some believed it, others refused to. The debate raged on.Just then, Aurora bursts in, shopping bags in hand, excitement shining