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
Alexander’s POVShe freezes, her hand still on the door handle. Slowly, she turns, her eyes narrowing. “It’s Claire,” she snaps, her voice slicing through the air like a whip. “How many times do I have to remind you?”Her lips press into a thin line, frustration simmering beneath the surface. For a moment, her knuckles whiten as she grips the door handle, her irritation clear in the subtle tension in her posture.“Wow,” she says, her tone dripping with mockery. “The great Alexander King is asking for a chance. This is what you should have said earlier, instead of wasting my time.”She releases the handle and strides toward me, stopping just close enough to let the weight of her words sink in. “How about getting your mother to beg for a chance too?”she says, her voice sweet with sarcasm.My jaw tightens, anger boiling just beneath the surface. “You know that’s not going to happen,” I say, my voice rough, barely containing the fury building inside.She throws her hands up in mock exasp
Isabel’s POVThe tension between us thickens, a silent, charged moment stretching as Cynthia’s hand hovers midair. The way her eyes burn into mine, full of frustration and humiliation, is almost enough to make me laugh. Almost.But I know her too well—this isn’t just anger. It’s desperation. She’s cornered, her reputation slipping through her fingers like water, and she’ll grasp at anything to pull me down with her.I leave my hand extended for a beat longer, just long enough for the crowd to notice, enough for the cameras to snap their damning shots. And then I let my arm fall, stepping back.Her sharp intake of breath is satisfying—almost.She clenches her jaw, fury flashing in her eyes. Before her hand can reach mine, I take a deliberate step back, letting my arm drop to my side. Her intentions are clear—dragging me into the pool would be the perfect way for her to level the playing field. But I’m no fool. Not tonight.A false smile curls on my lips as I tilt my head, my tone dripp
Isabel’s POVI let her words hang in the air, savoring the weight of her audacity. Slowly, I take a step closer, the corner of my mouth curling into the faintest hint of a smile. Her confidence wavers—just a flicker, but enough for me to notice.“Cynthia,” I say evenly, my tone as smooth as silk. “What a surprise.”Her face remains composed, but her posture stiffens. “I thought I’d come and celebrate your success,” she says, her voice laced with mock sincerity. “It’s quite the achievement.”I tilt my head, studying her. “I appreciate the gesture,” I reply, letting my voice dip slightly, enough to make her uneasy. “But if I wanted your congratulations, I would have asked for it.”Her smile falters, her lips twitching as though searching for the right response. I don’t give her the chance.“Especially not from someone who almost ruined this project,” I continue, my voice dropping lower, sharper.Cynthia’s eyes widen, and for a moment, the mask slips. The confidence she wore like armor c
Isabel’s POVCynthia strides into the room with calculated grace, her entrance commanding attention as if the entire event were curated solely for her. Her eyes lock with mine, and for a moment, the air between us feels heavy, laden with unspoken tension. Her lips curve into a faint smile, but it’s not one of warmth—no, it’s deliberate, sharp, meant to cut. Then, as though dismissing me entirely, she glides toward Alexander. With a practiced elegance, she loops her hand around his arm, her fingers curling possessively, her head tilting just slightly as she flashes a radiant smile for anyone who might be watching.I laugh softly under my breath, swirling my drink as I watch him. The tension in his shoulders, the clench of his jaw—it’s all too familiar, a silent plea to escape her grasp. There was a time when I might’ve pitied him. Now? I savor the sight, every ounce of his discomfort a vindication I didn’t know I needed.”Just then, My mother leans in close, her voice low but pointed.
Alexander’s POVThe condo is finally complete, and here we are—my mother and I—seated in the expansive lounge of the building that now symbolizes one of our company’s greatest achievements. The room hums with energy as executives begin to file in, their excitement palpable. Today is the launch, and it feels monumental.One of our senior executives approaches me, his stride confident and composed. “Congratulations, Alex, for pulling this off,” he says, extending his hand. His grip is firm, his eyes steady, radiating assurance as he holds my gaze for a moment before turning to exchange pleasantries with my mother. The interaction is brief, but his confidence feels like a nod of approval, a reminder that this project has made an impact.As more executives take their seats, the room begins to buzz with conversation. The flashes of cameras go off at every angle, capturing this significant moment. I settle into my seat, only for my gaze to lock with Roy’s across the room. His expression is
Isabel’s POVThe day hums with energy as we pull up to the luxurious condo. The internet has been in a frenzy these past few days, with every teaser and announcement stirring excitement for today’s unveiling. Promotional clips of the condo’s sleek interiors and panoramic views have been everywhere—trending across social media, featured in business news segments, even flashing across the billboards we passed on the way here.Stepping down from the limo, I take a breath, smoothing the fit of my dress—a sleek, off-white gown with delicate embroidery, elegant but understated, just right for the occasion. Beside me, my mother exudes her usual grace in one of LM’s signature power suits, the bold navy fabric tailored perfectly to emphasize her commanding presence.Roy is already waiting with his team, a brief smile exchanged between us as our eyes meet. The clicking of cameras surrounds us, a constant hum of the AD media at work. To the side, a live broadcast is in full swing, one of the rep
Isabel’s POVThe hospital air feels stale, but my senses sharpen the moment Cynthia, Roy and Susan step into the room. My gaze briefly locks with Cynthia’s before she turns her attention to Alexander. He sits stiffly on the hospital bed, his expression tight, like he’s been cornered.Cynthia’s scoff slices through the tension as she says, “I didn’t know your allergy could be cured by making a woman rest on your chest.”The absurdity of her words almost makes me chuckle, and despite myself, a small laugh escapes. It’s faint, but loud enough to draw attention. I clear my throat quickly, masking the amusement, and move closer to Roy, who stands stiffly beside me. He looks like he’s unsure whether to stay or speak.Alexander’s jaw tightens visibly, and he turns his gaze away, irritation etched into every muscle of his face. I wonder to myself, Oh, Cynthia, you’re starting to lose your hold on him, aren’t you? How much longer before he begins to despise you?My thoughts swirl with satisfac
Alexander’s POVThe hospital room is colder than I expected. The soft hum of the AC does little to soothe the ache in my head or the dull itching on my arm. I’m finally lying on a narrow hospital bed, the crisp white sheets barely wrinkled beneath me. After some initial checks, the doctor—a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and a calm demeanor—finally attends to me. His voice is steady as he assures me, “The reaction isn’t severe. You were fortunate to come in early.”I nod absently, though my mind is barely in the room. The sting of the incident is still fresh. The only thing I can focus on is the discomfort in my chest—the kind that isn’t physical.The door creaks open, and my eyes flick toward it. Claire steps in, her expression a mix of guilt and unease. Annoyingly, Roy is right behind her, his presence already grating on my nerves. My gaze narrows instinctively, but the doctor keeps talking, oblivious to the sudden tension.“Glad it wasn’t worst,” the doctor says, slippin
Isabel’s POVThe drive to the hospital is quiet, save for the occasional hum of Roy’s engine and the faint sound of my own thoughts whirring like a storm. Once we arrive, we step into the cool, sterile air of the lobby and inquire about Alexander King. A nurse directs us to his room, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding as we head toward it.When we enter, Alexander is lying on the bed, looking much better than when they’d rushed him out of the restaurant. Relief washes over me. I knew it was a mild allergy, but I can’t lie—I worried. What if his allergy had worsened over the years? What if I’d unknowingly caused him serious harm? But seeing him now, steady and breathing fine, the weight lifts.Good, I think. He’ll need his strength for what I have planned next.The doctor explains the situation. “Luckily, it wasn’t severe—just a mild reaction. But you should be careful next time about consuming any dish with hazelnut,” he advises, scribbling on a notepad. Alexander n
Isabel’s POVI knew he was going to do this. The Alexander I know thrives on challenges, and now that he’s beginning to grow feelings for Claire Montgomery, he’d stop at nothing to ruin my date. So I agreed to this place—my little sanctuary. It’s a quiet, dimly lit restaurant nestled in the heart of the city, with dark wooden furniture, soft amber lights, and the faint aroma of lavender in the air. This place has heard more of my sadness than my joy, an escape from the pain he’s caused me.A quiet scoff builds in my throat as he gestures for me to make the order. Typical Alexander, always playing games. And now he wants me to choose the meal? Could it be that he’s walking right into my plan, or is the universe finally favoring me? A smile curves on my lips as I say, “Alright, if you all want me to handle the orders, I will. This is the least I can do for everyone, considering how hard you’ve all been working.”I wave the waiter over, giving him clear instructions. “Bring your chef’s s