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
Collins’ POVWe sit in the private room of a quiet, upscale café, waiting for the other party to arrive.My client, Mark, shifts nervously in his seat, glancing around, clearly uncomfortable. I wonder why. Maybe it’s because he’s about to face the woman who gave him a solid beating.I tap my fingers on the table, trying to keep my thoughts in check. Finally, the door swings open, and the other lawyer enters, followed by the woman.At first, I think my eyes are playing tricks on me. Aria? After all these years of seeing her from a distance, here she is, just a few feet away. She doesn’t know me—of course, she doesn’t—but I’ve memorized every detail. And now, she’s looking at me for the first time. My heart pounds, and I grip the table, trying to steady myself.What are the odds? Of all the cases, of all the women, it had to be her.I quickly dart my eyes to Mark, who’s staring at his hands, biting his lip, avoiding eye contact. My voice drops, barely controlled. “Did you say you did no
Isabel’s POV“So, you’re saying you did beat him up because he refused to apologize, huh?” I ask, walking towards my office desk, gently placing my iPad on it and sinking into my chair. Since yesterday I got back from the office, Aurora hasn’t let me rest, she keeps following like some child. Ranting about some jerk she came across with when she was out with the kids and Aria. The lady my mom introduced as her friend’s daughter at my welcoming party.I narrow my eyes on her as she starts talking, her voice animated, recounting what happened yesterday and how it happened.“Yeah, me and the kids were out with Aria after you left for the office yesterday,” she begins, pacing as she does so. “Then this jerk from the street thought he could sexually play around with us, you know? I asked him to apologize, but he refused and started mouthing off, calling me weak and throwing disgusting words about my body.” She clenches her fists. “I couldn’t take it anymore, Sis. I had to teach him a less
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