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Chapter 12: The Turn Of The Tide
Last Updated:
2025-03-28 23:38:11
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“We’re expected at the Blackwood estate for dinner,” This was the cold, impassive tone that Damien had used to suddenly inform Isla that they would be visiting his family by the evening of the same day. Isla blinked, momentarily stunned. The same Damien who never spoke of his family? He wants “her,” his fake contract wife, to go see them tonight. What could have happened?She studied him carefully, searching his face for any indication of what this meant to him. But his face remained as it usually was… carved in stone. Then as if sensing the silent question in her eyes, he made a dismissive gesture to add, “It’s just a formality. Nothing else.” But Isla was far from believing that. ~~~ The evening of the dinner arrived, and Isla found herself marveling with glowing eyes as their car approached the grand structure. Old money, prestige class, history; It all loomed in the twilight. Yet, despite the awe-inspiring sight a growing anxiety was disturbing her gut. Soon she will be f
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It was a Wednesday morning, and Isla was busy flipping through the latest sales reports in her boutique. All her focus was on the paper in her hand as she murmured something to herself, noting some patterns in the data, while also pausing to take a sip from the coffee beside her.“Ding!”That was the next sound she heard coming from the front door,“Very usual” A new customer, she reasoned with her face still on the paper “Welcome to….” She mouthed halfway and immediately stopped again.“Something was off”Something about the silence that followed after the chime. No new voice, no cheerful greeting, neither was there any of the typical footfalls of an uncertain shopper.Instead, what came next was the sound of heels against the floor, followed by the slow, exaggerated clearing of somebody's throat. The sound was smug, wrapped with a pretentious politeness.Isla hurriedly lifted her gaze. The sight of her ex-friend, Vanessa, made Isla stiffen in her seat.The moment their eyes met
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“If you want to know the truth about your husband, come to this address. 1588 Belmont Drive. Now!" Isla stared at the anonymous message, the address mentioned was one she knew too well, it was the description of Hayes vacation home, not too far from the mansion she shared with her husband. Her expression remained neutral at first, but soon she could not help but scoff, waving the phone and shaking her head. “Fraudsters…Gossip phishers!” This must be a desperate attempt to stir trouble in her marriage and then put it on the news. Well, they could try such games with any other woman out there, but not her, Isla Hayes. “Not Nate," Isla murmured, shaking her head. "He would never." Three years of marriage had solidified her trust in him. He was a man of discipline, a man of his word. And, more importantly, the circumstances that had led to their unusual union made him owe her a debt that neither of them ever brought up but was deeply understood. The thought of that debt
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Isla stood outside Vanessa’s apartment, her hand trembling as it hovered over the doorbell. The sight of the familiar building—a place she had once called her second home—threatened to bring tears to her eyes. But she swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to press the button. She needed answers. She needed to hear it from Vanessa herself. The door swung open, and Mrs. Reed, Vanessa’s mother, greeted her with a warm smile. “Isla, dear! What a surprise. Come in, come in! You should join the celebration.” The words were cheerful, but to Isla, they felt like a slap. Celebration? Was this woman so oblivious to the pain her daughter had caused? Or was she simply choosing to ignore it? A sudden, bitter laugh bubbled up in her throat while Mrs. Reed regarded her with quiet amusement. Vanessa’s eyes met Isla’s, and for a moment, there was silence. Then Vanessa sighed, setting her cup down and crossing her arms. “Took you long enough.” Isla’s fists clenched a
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Isla’s heart raced as the man tightened his grip on her wrist, dragging her out of the church hall. She glanced around nervously, her mind spinning. “What kind of reporter does this?” she thought, her panic rising. She considered yanking her hand away or even slapping him, but the fear of causing a scene stopped her. The last thing she needed was to draw attention to herself in a room full of people who had already witnessed her humiliation. As they stepped outside, the cool air hit her face, but it did little to calm her nerves. The man guided her toward a sleek black car parked in the church lot, a driver standing ready by the door. Isla’s stomach churned. “This isn’t a reporter,” she realized. Reporters were pushy, but they didn’t drag people out of weddings like criminals. "What are you doing?” She demanded, her voice trembling. “Do you want to kidnap me?" The man didn't respond, his expression unreadable as he opened the car door. "My boss wants to see you
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Two days had passed since Isla’s encounter with Damien, and his words still echoed in her mind like a haunting refrain. “Marry me.” The memory of his face—serious, unyielding—was etched into her thoughts, replaying over and over. She paced her room, the business card he had given her clenched tightly in her hand. It felt like it was burning her palm, a constant reminder of the choice looming over her. Was this madness? Or could we call this fate’s way of giving her the perfect opportunity for revenge? How unlikely, how righteous, how suspiciously on time. Could this really be her chance to make Nate and Vanessa pay for what they had done? She grabbed a half-empty bottle of wine from her bedside table, twisted off the cap, and took a long, slow sip. The liquid soothed her throat but did little to calm the storm inside her. The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock, each second a reminder of the time slipping away. What followed next was the sound of the
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The next morning met Isla at the well-furnished bedroom Damien had ushered her into the previous night. She blinked her eyes slowly on the bed, adjusting to the light glow as the events of the previous day came rushing back, she sat up abruptly, the weight of her decision passed down her chest like a stone. Yesterday, she had arrived here as Isla Carter, a betrayed and bitter divorcee desperate for revenge. Today, she woke up as Isla Blackwood, wife to perhaps the most ruthless and wealthiest man in the city. A stranger. A billionaire whose motive she still couldn't grasp. The sound of the door opening snapped her out of her thoughts. She turned to see Damian standing in the doorway, his tall, imposing figure framed by the light of the room. His presence seemed to fill the room, the air growing heavier as his gaze met hers. Isla felt exposed and vulnerable and quietly pulled the sheet tighter around her. For a moment, Damien said nothing, he simply watched, his expression unreada
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The bedroom door slammed behind Isla with satisfying force. She pressed her back against it as if the solid wood could shield her from the memory of Damien's lips on hers. Her fingers rose instinctively to trace her mouth—still warm from his kiss. “No.” She shoved away from the door, pacing the length of the extravagant bedroom like a caged panther. The room was a masterpiece of cold elegance—all steel grays and icy blues, the furniture so pristine it might never have been touched. Just like its owner. “It was all for the cameras. Just for the damned cameras. It meant absolutely nothing!” She kept repeating to herself like someone fighting a powerful spell. But her traitorous body remembered too well: the firm pressure of his mouth, the possessive grip of his hands at her waist, the way her pulse had stuttered when he had pulled her close. “Gosh! Things were going too fast.” She was still thinking when a sudden knock on the door sounded, cutting off her spiral thoughts. “Wh
Last Updated : 2025-03-25
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It was a Wednesday morning, and Isla was busy flipping through the latest sales reports in her boutique. All her focus was on the paper in her hand as she murmured something to herself, noting some patterns in the data, while also pausing to take a sip from the coffee beside her.“Ding!”That was the next sound she heard coming from the front door,“Very usual” A new customer, she reasoned with her face still on the paper “Welcome to….” She mouthed halfway and immediately stopped again.“Something was off”Something about the silence that followed after the chime. No new voice, no cheerful greeting, neither was there any of the typical footfalls of an uncertain shopper.Instead, what came next was the sound of heels against the floor, followed by the slow, exaggerated clearing of somebody's throat. The sound was smug, wrapped with a pretentious politeness.Isla hurriedly lifted her gaze. The sight of her ex-friend, Vanessa, made Isla stiffen in her seat.The moment their eyes met
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“We’re expected at the Blackwood estate for dinner,” This was the cold, impassive tone that Damien had used to suddenly inform Isla that they would be visiting his family by the evening of the same day. Isla blinked, momentarily stunned. The same Damien who never spoke of his family? He wants “her,” his fake contract wife, to go see them tonight. What could have happened?She studied him carefully, searching his face for any indication of what this meant to him. But his face remained as it usually was… carved in stone. Then as if sensing the silent question in her eyes, he made a dismissive gesture to add, “It’s just a formality. Nothing else.” But Isla was far from believing that. ~~~ The evening of the dinner arrived, and Isla found herself marveling with glowing eyes as their car approached the grand structure. Old money, prestige class, history; It all loomed in the twilight. Yet, despite the awe-inspiring sight a growing anxiety was disturbing her gut. Soon she will be f
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Vanessa woke up feeling victorious. She stretched and yawned luxuriously. Today was yet another day to watch Isla Carter getting dragged through the filth of public scorn. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed wearing a smirk. And guess the best part of it all? Vanessa hadn’t even lifted a finger; it was someone else from the sky who had taken it upon himself to do the dirty work. With some effort, she pushed herself up and wanted to rearrange a pillow when a glow from her phone caught her attention. She paused with brows lifted. “More news, perhaps?” Another wave of disgrace for Isla? Well, she certainly wasn’t complaining. Vanessa picked up the phone with a quick flick of her wrist, bringing it closer, prepared to relish every detail. But the moment the words on the screen greeted her face her smirk died an instant death. It was like a dagger straight to the throat. She blinked, then blinked again, as a sudden fever began to descend on her, The headlines weren't ab
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The bedroom door slammed behind Isla with satisfying force. She pressed her back against it as if the solid wood could shield her from the memory of Damien's lips on hers. Her fingers rose instinctively to trace her mouth—still warm from his kiss. “No.” She shoved away from the door, pacing the length of the extravagant bedroom like a caged panther. The room was a masterpiece of cold elegance—all steel grays and icy blues, the furniture so pristine it might never have been touched. Just like its owner. “It was all for the cameras. Just for the damned cameras. It meant absolutely nothing!” She kept repeating to herself like someone fighting a powerful spell. But her traitorous body remembered too well: the firm pressure of his mouth, the possessive grip of his hands at her waist, the way her pulse had stuttered when he had pulled her close. “Gosh! Things were going too fast.” She was still thinking when a sudden knock on the door sounded, cutting off her spiral thoughts. “Wh
