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 POVThe door swings open, and as Sabrina steps inside, her presence fills the room.She’s dressed in a tailored black dress, elegant but sharp, the kind that screams power. Her red lips curl into a subtle smirk, the same confidence that her son, Alexander King always carries. She’s the chairman of the King’s Empire, after all.I lean back in my chair, watching her with a cool, calm expression.Aurora glances between us, clearly sensing the tension in the air. She’s not one to start drama, but she certainly knows when to step out of the line of fire. And without a beat, she rises from her seat and starts to head out.“Uh,” she parts her mouth open, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ll, uh, be leaving now,” she mumbles, gesturing vaguely toward the door. “I think I got some stuff I need to get done.” She adds, practically sprinting out of the office before I can say anything.As the door closes behind Aurora, I take a breath and turn my attention back to Sabrina. “So, you’re
Aurora’s POVI leave the office, finally stepping into the elevator.As the door closes, I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. The soft “bing” of the elevator signals that I’ve reached the ground floor, and as the doors slide open, I step out into the lobby. It’s filled with executives in tailored suits, striding confidently across the gleaming marble floor, their sharp heels clicking with purpose as they head to meetings or greet clients.“Hello, thank you,” I reply to the greeting of the hundredth person today since I arrived at the office with Isabel. Argh! It’s stressful.As I leave the building, the cool breeze from outside greets me. I stop, gazing out at the skyline, watching the bustle of people moving in every direction.The freedom of being outside hits me, but then, as reality sets in, I frown and kick my foot into the air.“Of all days, she has to show up now…” I mutter, annoyed. Of course, Sabrina makes an appearance earlier than expected—today, of all days
Isabel’s POVI make my way down the stairs, dressed in my silk pajamas. The sound of my flip-flops barely making a whisper against the polished wood. Tea. I need tea.The events of the day wash over me, Sabrina King’s visit still weighing heavy on my mind. Her veiled threats replay in my thoughts, sharp and lingering. But instead of feeling victorious, I’m restless, my nerves stretched thin.As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I spot Aurora coming down as well, a sheepish smile plastered on her face. She seems lost in thought, her eyes sparkling with some hidden amusement.I pour myself a cup of tea and take a small sip, letting the warmth spread through me. I lean back slightly, watching her from the corner of my eye. I wonder what on earth has her smiling like that. “Hey girl,” I call, taking a seat on the couch, crossing one leg over the other as I gently place my teacup on the table. My eyes widen with curiosity, a grin spreading across my face. “You left the office early and c
Isabel’s POVThe morning light streams through the window as I try to wake, stretching before rolling out of bed.Today’s a big day—the kids’ first day at their new school. At first, I’m worried that they might find it hard to adapt, given how much they loved their old school in New York. But to my surprise, they’re bouncing with excitement, as if this is an adventure they’ve been waiting for.I smile to myself as I help them into their school uniforms—Sterling in a sharp pair of grey trousers, a crisp white shirt, and a light pink tie, which adds a soft touch of color to his otherwise polished look. Scarlett, in her matching grey pleated skirt and light pink blouse, completes the outfit with a bow at the collar, her hair neatly done. Their little shoes are also polished.I have to admit, I’m amazed at how well they’re taking everything in stride. I guess I must’ve done something good in my past life to be blessed with such incredible kids.They finish dressing quickly, their faces glo
Cynthia’s POVI step into my office, my heart thudding against my chest, anger already flushing over me. I take a deep breath, sinking into the leather chair, but I can’t seem to calm down.Her face—Isabel’s face—keeps flashing in my mind. That smug look she gave me, like she’s already won, like she’s got everything under control. Who does she think she is?Bluffing, saying her PA would text me? I scoff, tilting my head to the side. I see she’s playing some kind of rich brat game, isn’t she? She’s really starting to get on my nerves. Or should I just do away with her once and for all? My lips twist into something sly.Argh! Relax Cynthia. You are still getting to know this new Isabel. I try to calm my nerves. Besides, this new Isabel seems to have a lot of interesting stuff on her. I blink, letting a smile play on my lips. Again, my mind flashes to what she said. Damn it! I can’t believe I was stupid enough to sign that damn contract without reading it properly. So now what, huh?
Cynthia’s POVThe night hums with energy as I stand near the entrance, a practiced smile on my face. The gown I chose—a sleek, emerald-green number that hugs my figure and flares slightly at the hem—glimmers under the soft amber lights. Diamond earrings dangle from my ears, catching every flicker of light, while my hair is swept into a perfect chignon, leaving no strand out of place.Guests arrive steadily, each greeted with my charm and poise. Alexander is off to the side, mingling with a group of well-dressed individuals, his expression unreadable as always. My father’s presence, though, is the real surprise tonight.I recall our earlier conversation. He hadn’t been interested, his disinterest as familiar as the cold indifference I grew up with—until I mentioned my partner. His response had been subtle, his face betraying nothing, but I felt the shift. Something about Claire Montgomery intrigued him. And here he is tonight, standing among the city’s elite. I purse my lips, half-smil
Alexander’s POVI step into my office, the weight on my shoulders lighter than it’s been in months. Victory tastes sweet, but this one is different. I move to the bar cart in the corner, pouring myself a drink, savoring each sip as if the liquid carries the satisfaction I’ve been chasing for so long.The designs have been approved. Finally. It feels like I’ve proven myself again—not to anyone else, but to me. A small, strange smile tugs at the corner of my lips. Is this happiness? It feels foreign, almost uncomfortable. And then a thought strikes me.Am I happy because of the project’s success? Or is it because Claire Montgomery will see me differently now?I scoff inwardly, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. Why should I care? It’s just another project—like dozens before it, nothing special. But even as I tell myself this, I know I’m lying.This is different.The thought hangs in the air as I sip my drink again, slower this time. It’s Claire Montgomery. There’s something about he
Cynthia’s POVI slam my car door shut, the humid Los Angeles breeze doing little to cool the fire simmering inside me. Alexander’s face flashes in my mind—calm, composed, indifferent. Indifferent to me. My heels click sharply against the marble floor of my foundation’s office building, a steady rhythm to my rising frustration. By the time I push open the door to my office, I’m seething.With a frustrated puff, I toss my handbag onto the couch and grab a cup of coffee from the table, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. The warm ceramic in my hand doesn’t soothe me. Instead, it gives me something to hold onto as my thoughts spiral.“He left me. Again,” I mutter under my breath, the words bitter on my tongue. “Not even a damn glance in my direction.” I laugh, the sound hollow and sharp. “I know he’s been avoiding me, but for how long? For how long, Alexander?” My voice rises slightly, and I take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down.I stop pacing, stare into my coffee, and l
Isabel’s POVI step into my office, closing the door softly behind me. The air presses against my chest, heavy and suffocating, like it knows what I’m trying to ignore. Dropping into my chair, I grip the armrests, steadying myself against the tide of emotions I swore I’d mastered.Alexander’s words echo in my mind, “I’ll be in touch soon.” His tone was casual, but something about it felt deliberate, calculated. Was there more to it, or am I just reading into everything these days? I shake my head and glance at my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen.I’d re-saved his number after that incident at the park—a number I should have deleted long ago. The thought lingers, pulling at me, and I wonder if he’s sent a message.Unlocking the phone, I glance at the screen, but nothing. No texts, no calls. My grip tightens, and a bitter laugh escapes my lips. What am I even thinking? I shake my head, muttering to myself, “Goodness, Isabel. You’re letting yourself slip. Remember the hurt, the
Isabel’s POVThe cool morning breeze brushes past as my Louboutin heels click against the marble pavement outside LM Group’s headquarters. Clad in a white blazer and tailored navy pants, I adjust my cuff bracelet before striding purposefully through the glass doors.Inside my office, sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a glow on the stack of folders on my desk. I pick one up and freeze. Alexander. The name stings like an old wound. I shake my head, setting it back down. “Focus,” I mutter, willing his voice and the memories to fade.I sit up abruptly, spinning my chair around to face the expansive view of the city. Skyscrapers rise majestically against the pale blue sky, and the streets below pulse with life. For a moment, I lose myself in the rhythm of the world outside, but even the bustling city can’t drown out my inner turmoil.A soft knock pulls me back. “Come in,” I call, straightening in my chair. Christine steps inside, iPad in hand, her expression pr
Alexander’s POVThe imposing glass façade of the LM Group headquarters looms ahead as I step out of my car, briefcase in hand. I stride through the lobby, nodding at a few familiar faces. By the time I reach the conference hall, my thoughts are already racing. My team and Claire’s are seated around the long table, their murmurs cutting off as I enter. A flicker of something—anticipation or maybe relief—flashes across their faces, and I furrow my brows slightly.I glance around. Everything appears calm. Judging by the silence and the lack of any major movements, the meeting hasn’t started yet. I sigh inwardly. I guess I made it on time after all.I greet the leaders of Claire’s team, exchanging firm handshakes before taking my seat. As I crouch into the chair, the one opposite me swings forward, and my gaze lifts. It’s Claire.There’s a polished simplicity to her appearance—sharp lines, clean elegance. Her gaze is cool, unwavering, and just the sight of her is enough to unsettle me.I
Alexander’s POVI pull the cuffs of my shirt down before slipping on my cufflinks, the metallic click grounding me. Today’s meeting hangs heavily in my mind as I brush my hair into place, the gel smoothing down the dark strands until they fall in the sharp, confident style I prefer. Looking at my reflection, I tug the edge of my jacket, ensuring every line of the suit is immaculate. “I’m ready,” I murmur, letting the words steel my resolve.Sitting down, I slide my feet into polished leather shoes, fastening them securely. My movements are deliberate as I pick up my briefcase and head down the grand staircase. Halfway down, a rich, savory aroma drifts up to meet me. My steps falter. For a moment, I think I’m imagining it. Meals aren’t uncommon here, but this… it feels different, strange even.And then I see her. Sabrina. My mother.Standing near the dining table, she’s supervising the preparation of breakfast. It’s jarring—a scene I can’t recall witnessing since childhood. My mother a
Isabel’s POVI make my way to the private gym that is tucked into the west wing of the mansion, right past the study. It’s one of Aurora’s favorite places, a sanctuary she treats with the same devotion as her morning coffee. For her, this space isn’t just about fitness—it’s her escape. I can see why. The polished floors gleam, and the glass doors let in the soft light from the garden outside, making the space feel open and alive.As I walk in, the familiar hum of the machines fills the air. Aurora is on the treadmill, her strides steady and determined. Sweat beads on her forehead, glistening under the lights as her focus remains unshaken. Watching her like this always motivates me. She’s relentless, committed to every goal she sets.Her eyes flick toward me, and a faint smile plays on her lips as she slows the machine to a stop. She grabs the small towel hanging off the side, dabbing her face and neck before she speaks.“I bet you’re not here for this, are you?” she teases, her voice
Alexander’s POVI lean back in my chair, my leg bouncing restlessly as I stare at the closed door. My fingers twist the edge of my jacket, the tension in my chest refusing to settle. I’ve been trying to keep my mind off it—off them—but it’s useless. Cynthia and Claire in the same room never ends well. Oil and water don’t mix, and I know the history between them well enough to expect a spark turning into a blaze.For a moment, I almost push myself up to check, but I stop, pressing my hand to the armrest instead. They’re adults. They can handle themselves. So why the hell does it feel like something’s about to go wrong? I shake my head, forcing myself to sit still, but the unease claws at me, pulling tighter.The door creaks open. My head jerks up, and there she is—Cynthia. A smug smile spreads across her face, so out of place that I blink. My mind stumbles over it. Didn’t she walk in earlier with a look so downcast she could’ve passed for a grieving widow? Now she’s smiling?I sit up st