Isabel’s POVThe night is here, and everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion. It took about an hour of convincing to stop the kids from coming with me to the event and an extra 20 to 30 minutes of assuring Scarlett I wasn’t going to bring daddy home or meet with him.Since they got back from school today, I keep hearing talks about daddy, daddy. I thought we were already on the same page. Didn’t expect that they would come back with it so soon.Thanks to Aurora for coming to my rescue. She promised to play games with them if they stayed with her and luckily, they agreed.I glance back at the mirror one last time, taking in my reflection.My dress, a red sleek gown that hugs my curves, the fabric shimmering under the light as it cascades down to the floor. My hair tied up in a bun this time.My mother, Victoria, is by my side, looking every bit the part of the elegant, refined woman she is in a black velvet gown. Her blonde hair is styled in an updo.But tonight, I can tell she
Isabel’s POVAlexander yanks me to the side, and I stumble forward, almost crashing into his chest. His breath comes in short gasps, as if he’s just run a mile to catch me.I scoff, folding my arms over my chest. “Are you alright?” I ask, sarcasm dripping from my tone. “How can you just pull me out of the party like this?”His eyes blaze with fury, and before I can say more, he cuts me off. “Why do you keep pretending to be someone else? And… and I know it’s all your doing. The rumors spreading among our investors, my mother coming to you—and now this? You’re trying to paint us as beggars, claiming we begged for the contract? How low can you stoop?”I laugh, the sound cold, as I push a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “But your mother did beg. She begged me to save the King’s Empire from shame.” I fold my arms tighter, the mockery in my voice deliberate. “With folded hands, like this.” I fold my hands in plea to mimic her. “Almost with tears, asking that I keep the company’s reputati
Alexander’s POVMy hand still tingles from holding Cynthia back, but my mind is elsewhere—on her. Claire, or whoever the hell she’s claiming to be. It doesn’t make sense. Right? The face, the voice, everything is the same as Isabel’s, but she keeps claiming to be another person. How is it possible that someone can look so much alike? What if she really is Claire and not Isabel? What if I’ve been wrong this entire time? My chest tightens with the thought, the weight of doubt clawing at my sanity.Just then, Cynthia jerks her arm away, bending forward to say something to Isabel—something sharp enough to light a fuse.I stand frozen, and watch as Claire leaves, giving no attention to me. Why the fuck is she being rude?! I clench my jaw, anger bubbling beneath the surface. Cynthia’s presence beside me is almost suffocating, her anger radiating off her in waves. She rubs her cheek, where Claire’s slap left a fiery mark, her eyes burning with resentment.“Are you seriously going to let h
Isabel’s POVI lean back in my seat, the call meeting with one of our investors over. My eyes close for a moment, but my mind doesn’t follow. It drifts back to that night after the party, when I asked my mom what was going on. She brushed it off, like always, saying it was nothing. But her actions tell a different story—talks of more security, more bodyguards. Why? What could they be hiding from me?I take a deep breath, trying to make sense of it. I feel lost, like I’ve been walking through fog ever since that night five years ago. Since she’d died in my place. And yet, this feeling… it’s different. Recently. Unsettling. I remember Aurora also telling me that Cynthia had seen the kids at the welcoming party, and I can’t help but feel angry at her for keeping that from me. But at the same time, I know… I know she was only trying to keep my worries at bay. I bite my lip, pouting slightly. I shouldn’t stay mad at her for too long right? I scratch the back of my head. Feeling the w
Isabel’s POVI turn to face Scarlett, forcing a smile as I bend to her level. “Honey,” I begin gently, “but Uncle Roy isn’t your real dad. So how can he be your daddy?”Scarlett blinks, scratching her little fingers through her curls, the same way she does when she’s thinking hard. She takes a breath, letting herself sink deeper into the chair. “Then where’s our real dad?” she asks softly.The question hits like a weight in my chest. I let out a sigh—a deep, lingering sigh that leaves me with my mouth half open, words caught somewhere I can’t reach.I rub a hand over my forehead, feeling the tension coil there, and close my eyes for a brief moment. When I open them, Scarlett’s small hand slips into mine, her voice soft but insistent.“Then… Uncle Roy can just be our daddy, right?” Her fingers squeeze mine, as if holding on to the hope that might make it true. “Everyone in school has a daddy, and their daddy picks them up.” She looks up at me, eyes wide, pleading. “Mommy… let Uncle Roy
Isabel’s POVThe conference room buzzes with lively discussion as we delve into the progress of the condo project. Design boards are spread across the table, showcasing various aspects of the interiors and the architectural vision.I flip through the design boards, nodding at the team’s progress, but my mind drifts for a fleeting moment to Scarlett’s question yesterday. “Mommy, can’t uncle Roy be our dad?” Her small voice had been filled with curiosity, her wide eyes searching mine for an answer I wasn’t ready to give.The memory tugs at my chest, a mix of guilt and confusion swirling within me. Scarlett’s innocence made her question feel so simple, yet the truth was anything but. I force myself to push the thought aside. There’s too much at stake with this project to let my emotions derail me right now.“Have you seen the social buzz surrounding the condo project?” Emily, our chief architect, asks, flipping through a tablet displaying a series of trending articles and social media po
Alexander’s POVAs I pull up to the Flaming Academy, Collins’s words echo in my mind: “Those kids, they go to the same school as your daughter, Sophia. And their names are Scarlett and Sterling.”Today, though, I’m not here for Sophia. No, today is about finding answers—about facing something that’s gnawed at me for far too long.I scan the groups of children, and then, I see them.Scarlett’s the first to catch my eye—dark, curly hair styled to perfection, her stance strikingly similar to Isabel’s. I can’t ignore the way she carries herself, a quiet confidence in her small frame. And then there’s Sterling. When our eyes meet, I see my own blue eyes mirrored back at me. A chill runs through me. How? But I push the thought aside, telling myself I’m overthinking it.Clearing my throat, I approach them, forcing a smile, my voice smooth but not as confident as I’d like. “Hey there. Remember me?” I crouch down to meet their curious eyes.Scarlett’s eyes narrow slightly as she studies me. Th
Isabel’s POVRoy’s foot slams down on the pedal, and the car surges forward, slicing through the evening traffic with single-minded purpose. My heart pounds in time with the engine’s roar, relentless, as I keep redialing the number. It’s the one that shattered my world earlier with a single word: “Mom.” Every ring gets me close to them.As we pull into the park, I’m out of the car before it fully stops, the cool breeze biting against my skin. But it does nothing to cool the storm raging inside me. I barely notice it. All I see is the expanse of the park stretching before me, and all I feel is the terror clawing at my throat. I run, calling out for them, each shout tinged with desperation. My voice shakes as I cry their names, “Scarlett! Sterling!” Until, finally, I see them—two small figures, my babies. Relief floods through me, my knees almost giving out as I call out again, my voice breaking. I run, wrapping my arms around them, and I feel my arms shaking as I hold them tight.
Isabel’s POVAs we take our seats, I glance around the room, soaking in its glow.Crystal chandeliers hang like stars above a sea of curated beauty—fashion elites, influencers, designers, journalists. All gathered for LM Fashion’s latest showcase. Velvet drapes in the brand’s signature maroon shade frame the wide runway, sleek and gleaming beneath the spotlight. The air smells of roses, ambition, and a hint of tension that only those like me can sense.Roy sits beside me, his shoulder brushing mine slightly, his quiet presence grounding. Across the table, my mother, Victoria Montgomery—still poised as ever—leans in to whisper something to Grace, who gives a soft chuckle in return. They look relaxed. Pleased. The calm before the wave.I glance up—my eyes drawn to the opposite table where the night’s showstoppers sit.Aurora.She looks like she belongs here: regal in black, her hair pinned back with delicate crystal clips that shimmer under the soft lighting. Beside her, Richard looks d
Isabel’s POVIt’s been two weeks since the fall.Two weeks since I cornered Cynthia and made it painfully clear just how much she stands to lose if she ever dares to come for me again. I didn’t need to raise my voice. Just facts, laid bare like knives on silk. I showed her the cracks in her perfect little world—one by one. Her reputation? Hanging by a thread. Her false sense of security in that house? Dismantled. Her place in the industry? Already slipping through her manicured fingers.And that was just the beginning.Because losing her foundation is only the first drop on the rollercoaster I’ve strapped her into.Next comes the descent.I’m going to make her stay at the King’s mansion a living hell. A place so cold, so hostile, even the walls will reject her. I want her to feel the weight of being truly hated—not just by me, but by everyone that matters in that house. Especially Sabrina. The anger in Sabrina’s eyes when she looks at Cynthia now? It’s sharp. Raging. I’ve stoked the f
Isabel’s POVI struggle to loosen my arm from Alexander’s grip, tugging harder even as his fingers dig into my skin like claws desperate to stay tethered. My chest heaves from the pressure, my throat tight with restrained fury.“Let go,” I hiss, but he doesn’t budge.Not until the door swings open.And then… I see him.Roy.He’s standing there, still, shoulders broad, presence commanding. But it’s his eyes that speak volumes. The intensity in his gaze, the way it flickers from me to Alexander’s hold on my arm—it’s enough to make Alexander go still too.In seconds, Roy strides forward. I feel a rush of relief as he reaches us, his hand locking around Alexander’s wrist. His grip is firm. Steady. Without hesitation, he peels Alexander’s hand away from me, forcing him to let go.“How dare you touch her,” Roy growls, his voice low and rough, seconds before his fist crashes into Alexander’s jaw.The blow is fast, brutal. Alexander stumbles back, nearly losing balance but catches himself jus
Alexander’s POVCameras flash like lightning across a stormy sky, the air thick with tension. I stand there, jaw set, the words already rehearsed in my head—but still, I can’t believe Isabel is making me do this.A public apology.God.But as my mother said earlier this morning, “If getting low is the only way to gain control, then get low. We’ll crawl beneath her feet if we must—until we’re ready to rise and flip her world upside down.”And when we do, it’ll be her turn to choke on regret.I inhale sharply through my nose, straighten my shoulders, and speak to the press with a calm I barely feel.Then it comes—the reporter’s question. His voice cuts through the buzz.“We see that your wife, Cynthia Castillo, has indeed offended Miss Claire Montgomery by releasing her private affairs without consent… but what we don’t know is—why? Do you mind telling us why she did so?”My fist tightens.Jaw clenched.My eyes flick toward Cynthia where she sits at the corner of the stage, legs crossed
Isabel’s POVI’m in the middle of a quick briefing with the heads of each department for the upcoming fashion show, everyone huddled around the oval table in my office. Swatches are being passed, digital models flicker across screens, and fabric samples are laid out like cards at a poker game. I’m about to ask a question about lighting when Christine slides in quietly, pressing her hand against the glass door.“Ma’am,” she says, voice low but urgent, “someone is here to see you. He said it’s important.”My brow furrows. “Who is it?”She hesitates.I dismiss the team with a nod. “We’ll pick this up later. Keep working as planned.”They file out, murmuring to one another, a few casting curious glances over their shoulders. The last door click hasn’t even faded when the knob turns again—and in walks the least person I ever expected.Carl Edward.His presence draws an immediate scoff from my lips. I arch a brow, half-surprised, half-irritated. He looks almost the same—tailored charcoal su
Isabel’s POVI barely make it through the door before my mother rushes toward me, her heels clacking against the floor.“Claire, dear, what happened?” she asks, worry laced in every word.She doesn’t wait for an answer. Her hands gently guide me to the couch, pressing me down to sit as though I might shatter if left standing.I stay still.My body might be here, but my mind keeps flicking back to Cynthia’s words earlier—family secrets.What could she be referring to?Is this one of her usual mind games?She knows exactly how deeply things like this get to me. And that’s what makes it worse. Is she just toying with me again? Or… is there actually something I don’t know?I stare at the polished floor, my brows slightly furrowed, thoughts tangled.It wouldn’t be the first time she used manipulation to shake me—but something about her tone today… it didn’t sound like a bluff.I glance up slowly, meeting my mother’s expectant eyes.Should I go on to ask?But why do I feel like even if I do,
Alexander’s POVI sit slouched in my chair, head resting against the high back, rocking slightly as the chair creaks beneath me. My fingers tap a pen rhythmically on the table, a steady beat that contrasts the chaos in my mind.“Be prepared to go down with Cynthia.”Isabel’s voice plays on a loop in my head. I don’t know why, but it’s the way she said it—with quiet certainty—that unsettles me. She’s not bluffing. That much I know.The door bursts open.I sit up instantly as my mother storms in like a woman who’s just been ripped out of a nightmare—wild eyes, stiff shoulders, hands trembling by her side.“What was she doing here?” she demands, jerking her thumb back toward the hallway. “She was just here. Isabel. And she—” Her voice falters, lips trembling.I stand slowly. “What?”“She spoke to me like I was nothing. Can you believe how she spoke to me? She even accused me of wishing her dead!”Her chest rises and falls fast, anger mixed with fear pouring from her in sharp breaths. “Sh
Aria POVThe moment I step into the LM Group building, I can feel it—the air is tense, buzzing with something unspoken. It’s in the way the receptionists glance nervously at each other, in the hushed footsteps of employees scurrying past, trying not to draw attention.But it’s when I step further inside that I spot her.Cynthia.She stands like she owns the damn place, as always. Her shoulders back, head high, the kind of look that screams drama cloaked in luxury. A slow, knowing smile tugs at the corner of my lips. Of course she’s here. Probably to pull one of her usual stunts—perform for the gallery like she hasn’t already been exposed. But who would still be sane, knowing just how close they are to losing everything?I barely had to do anything. And yet… now she’s standing right in the middle of her downfall, finally receiving the punishment she deserves.That thought comforts me—for a second.Until I see her turn toward Isabel.I can’t hear what she says, but I see it happen. I se
Isabel’s POVI step out into the cool air, letting the heavy door click shut behind me. A breath pushes past my lips as I lift my face toward the sky, the breeze brushing over my skin like a silent reward.“That was cool,” I murmur to myself, nodding slightly. “You don’t have to let Alexander’s presence affect you. Never again.”He’s not worth it—not the pain, not the confusion, and certainly not the space in my heart. A man who can look you dead in the eye and question your safety like it’s a business inconvenience doesn’t deserve to be kept anywhere near your soul.My hand curls into a fist at my side, nails biting into my palm.“I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure he stays far away from my life for good.”I turn to walk toward my car, heels clicking steadily across the pavement. But just as I reach for the handle, a shift in the air stills me. That familiar scent—too expensive, too calculated—hits before I even see her.Sabrina.The mother hen.Of course.I blink, inhale slowly,