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
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 POV“Change that dress, you look awful in it.” Alexander said in a commanding tone.The dress, a red revealing short gown, which hugged my curves, featuring a daring plunging neckline.Glancing through myself and looking back at the mirror, I asked, “what’s wrong with my dress, not like it’s the first time am wearing it.”“I don’t have to give you any explanation or talk further on this, just change it like I said!” He retorted.His tone is cold, but still handsome as ever.He stood at an imposing 6’3”, his height adding to his commanding presence.Alexander used to love me. I want to believe so.He used to be a loving and doting husband. Even though there’s a side of him that I’m yet to understand. He’s sometimes aggressive, tends to be controlling and commanding.I’ve tried to talk to him, but it always ends in arguments, never accepting the fact that he has an issue.It has just been messy.My once loving husband has turned to a stranger.I couldn't even break the news of
Alexander’s POVI sit in my office, my gaze fixed through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows, beyond which the cityscape stretched out in a mosaic of bustling life.It gnawed on me, a memory of my upbringing which I think is affecting my relationship with Isabel.While growing up, I had always seen my mum, Sabrina, command my father, Williams, to do anything she wanted, because she was making more money than him. And I had thought that’s the norm.Having more money than your partner in marriage means you call the shot. You’re in control of whatever goes on or happens in your home. Why would Isabel think I love her less simply because I commented on her dress? I worked hard proving to my mother that I’m capable of running the company, making lots of money, so I won’t have to be like my dad when married.Gosh! I pace my office, running my hands through my hair. I hate it when Isabel gives me those looks, with her shimmering silver gray eyes, which send down a cold shiver down my
Isabel’s POVmy eyes opened to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the room curtains.The unfamiliar ceiling of the room came into focus.Where am I? I asked myself, feeling a slight ache.I groaned softly, pressing a hand on my temple as I tried to piece together the fragments of last night. I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to remember how I got here.What happened? I thought to myself, anxiety bubbling as I pushed myself to sit up.I scanned the room, searching for any clues that might jog my memory, but everything looked untouched, pristine, almost sterile.The mirror across the room caught my eye.Slowly, I stood, wrapping a sheet around me as I walked over.My reflection looking back at me- disheveled hair, makeup smudged.My eyes wide with confusion and fear.I noticed a faint bruise on my shoulder, but there’s no pain, just the unsettling sense of not knowing how it got there.I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.I need to figure this out, to make sense
Isabel’s POVWalking through the hallway of the King’s Mansion, I feel sad.The hallway Furnished with High ceilings adorned with intricate moldings that creates an aura of spaciousness. The polished marble floors gleam under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers. One can feel the air filled with a subtle scent of fresh flowers.But I sense tension as I walk through the hallway.Why is everywhere so quiet?I thought to myself.Two steps into the big and exotic living room, I was shocked to see Alexander sitting in one of antique furniture pieces near the window.His gaze feels so cold.I can tell he’s mad. Ranging with anger, but trying to keep his cool.“You’re finally home.” He says, giving an icy demeanor.I hesitated.Unable to say anything for a moment. Puzzled and surprised as it’s been a while since Alexander was home by this time of the day.He’s either already at the office, or he traveled for a business trip from work. While I only got to know about it from his assistant,
Alexander’s POVAs the alcohol wore off, reality seeped in.I find myself staring at the ceiling, the weight of my actions settling heavily on my chest.What have I done? I say, covering my face with my hands.My heart is beating inside my chest.Last night was I and Isabel’s anniversary, and instead of spending the night with her, I’m here with her best friend!My eyes widened.Not when I have decided to let go of our marriage. There is no point in celebrating an anniversary. I thought to myself, trying to escape the weight of what feels so heavy to accept.But I shouldn’t have done this.I turned to look at Cynthia, now sleeping beside me, and I felt a pang of regret.Did I really do this?My thoughts were interrupted when Cynthia rolled, placing her hand round my body.I immediately swung it off, feeling irritated by her touch.“What’s it Alexander?” She says, her voice shaky.“You can’t seriously treat me this way, after what happened between us last night.” She ventured out, a f
Isabel’s POVI look at Alexander, my cold eyes piercing through his.His demeanor is icy like it always has been. Looking unsettled.I wonder what could be going through his mind. Who am I trying to deceive? He’s definitely thinking of his night with Cynthia.The thought of what could have gone down between them came crossing my mind.I tightened my jaw.I’ll never forgive them both.He wants a divorce? He gets it. I’m done been the good and understanding wife of an unfaithful bastard.I signed the divorce papers without hesitation, storming into the room to get my stuff and leave the hell outta here.Did Alexander think I’m going to beg for him to not end this marriage? I can't even stand being in the same room with him.He disgust me!Not after what I saw the other night at the hotel.I used to think Alexander loved me, I used to think our marriage could be saved. Tears well up my eyes.To think that I almost told him about my pregnancy, thinking it could bring us back together. I
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
Isabel’s POVAs I step back into the restaurant, I force myself to focus on my breathing. In through my nose, out through my mouth. Calm, steady, controlled. My fingers twitch at my sides, desperate to clench into fists again, but I smooth them down my dress instead, willing myself to keep it together. I won’t give Cynthia the satisfaction of knowing she got to me. But my fury burns hot and sharp as my eyes land on Alexander.Our gazes lock, and the air feels heavier, charged with something I can’t quite name. His face is calm—too calm—but there’s something in his eyes. A flicker of uncertainty, maybe even guilt, crosses his face, as if he’s caught in the web of his own mind.My heart pounds, my anger bubbling dangerously close to the surface. For a fleeting moment, I want to march straight to him, to say something—anything—that will cut as deeply as I feel wounded. The words are on the tip of my tongue, burning to be released. But I stop myself, taking a long, measured breath. No.
Isabel’s POVThe tension thickens, but I try to stay still. Why should I leave? I’m done running now.I glance at Roy and whisper, a teasing smile tugging at my lips, “And the food, Roy. How can I leave that?” I add a playful gesture, and he chuckles, his tension easing slightly.Placing a hand over mine, he says, “As long as you’re fine, let’s enjoy our meal. You know I’m here for you, always.”I give him a cheeky smile, but my mind betrays me, drifting back to the pair across the room. Just then, the waiter arrives with our meals, the aroma sending a thrill through my senses. I dive in without hesitation, savoring every bite. It’d be foolish to let them ruin this for me, I think, relishing the rich flavors.When I finish, I stand up, ready to make my exit, but before I can take a step, I catch the flicker of worry in Roy’s eyes. It’s quick, fleeting, but it’s there—a silent question hanging between us. His concern isn’t something he tries to hide, even if it’s just a moment of hesita