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 at her sides. “You owe me an explanation, Vanessa. How could you do this to me? How could you betray me like this?” Vanessa rolled her eyes, her expression one of casual indifference. “Oh, please, Isla. It’s been over a month. You need to move on. Nate never loved you—not the way he loves me.” Isla scoffed, more out of disbelief than anything else. Was this even her friend talking or a double? What the hell happened to Vanessa? She was searching the expression looking for a hint of the friend she had once known for years. There was nothing. It was like staring at a stranger with her best friend’s face. She took a step closer, finding her voice again with great difficulty. "Since when?" she demanded. "Tell me, was it before or after I helped you get a job in his company? Was it before I regarded you my best friend?" Vanessa rolled her eyes as if to say give me a break. "What does it even matter? It’s all in the past." The casual dismissal made Isla’s blood boil. “What does it matter? You ruined my life, Vanessa! You took everything from me!” But nothing could have prepared her for what Vanessa had to say next, as her lips curled into a smirk. “Oh, Isla. You’re so dramatic. But if you really want to know…” She paused, her eyes glinting with malice. “Nate and I are expecting a baby.” The words came like a knee to the belly. Isla froze. Her breath stopped. Her vision blurred. Expecting… a baby? Her head was spinning. Nate had never once hinted at wanting children that badly. He had never looked desperate, never complained. And yet, here he was, in the blink of an eye, getting her best friend pregnant, of all women in the world. Her ears were ringing, and her heart was pounding violently against her ribs. Soon she noticed Vanessa, now beginning to step forward, thrusting something into her hands. Isla looked down at her hand, it was a wedding invitation, her hands trembling. The elegant script on the front seemed to taunt her. "You should come.” Vanessa teased smoothly, her voice laced with raw mockery. "It’ll be fun." She felt something inside her shatter. This wasn’t just betrayal. This was the ultimate humiliation. ~~~ The wedding between Nate and Vanessa happened on a Saturday morning at St. Augustine’s Church. At the farthest corner of the church, Isla was sitting in silence. Dressed in all black, she was nearly invisible among the sea of pastel dresses and tailored suits. A thick scarf was wrapped around her lower face, while a pair of black oversized sunglasses concealed the evidence of her sleepless nights and swollen eyes. At the altar, Nate and Vanessa stood side by side, the perfect couple in the eyes of the world. Vanessa was breathtaking in her white lace gown, Nate looked every bit the devoted groom as they exchanged vows solemnly. The very same vows Nate had recited to her in that same spot three years ago. "Till death do us part." The words echoed in Isla’s mind, hollow and meaningless. He had said the same thing to her three years ago, in this very church. Back then, she had believed him. She had believed in the life they were building together. But now, as she watched him pledge his love to Vanessa, she realized it had all been a lie. The church was filled to the brim with familiar faces: old university friends and work colleagues. The same ones who had been present at her wedding. Back then, they had whispered behind her back, called her a hungry gold digger; labelled her as the young secretary who had married her wealthy boss to climb the social ladder. But now? For Vanessa, they called it true love. “I should never have come.” Isla reasoned painfully. This wasn’t closure. It was self- torture. As the vows neared their conclusion, she began to rise from her seat measuredly. Her limbs felt heavy, her heart pounded in her ears, but she forced herself to move. She had no reason to sit here and watch them seal their betrayal with a kiss. In the preceding seconds, she was beginning to make her way toward the exit, maneuvering between the seated guests. Just as she reached the doorway, a firm hand wrapped around her wrist. She gasped, jerking back in alarm, her free hand clutching her sunglasses, afraid that they might fall off in panic. Whoever this was, if they recognized her… "Miss Isla," The unfamiliar voice called. Her abdomen ached. Slowly and anxiously, she turned. A man whose face she still did not recognize was standing before her. It was the ID card on his neck that caught her eyes. A reporter? She felt the blood drain from her face. How the hell had they known it was her? “Oh my God!” She should have listened to Sophia's warning. She should never should have.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
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
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
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
Ever since Isla had signed a contract with Damien, she had become familiar with a new kind of freedom. A life that was the complete opposite of the one she shared with Nate. Back then, she had been a full-time housewife, but there had always been something to do. She would run the errands for his grandparents, do the shopping, oversee the house maintenance, and even scrub the damn floors herself. In Damien’s world, that life was nonexistent. Isla felt like a ghost in the big house with its numerous staff. There was even a time she had attempted to cook just to remind herself of the life she once lived but one of the maids, Amelia, had stopped her with a look so grave it was as though she had attempted to commit a crime. "Mr. Blackwood doesn’t like his wife working." It was perhaps after that particular encounter that the realization came upon her like a heavy cloak. If she stayed like this doing nothing, she would suffocate. The boredom would destroy her before the contract ev
Since the red carpet announcement, Isla's phone hadn't stopped ringing—calls from her parents, her sister Sophia, and everyone trying to reach her. But she couldn't answer. Not because she didn't want to, but because she had no words to explain. How could she tell them she had been essentially kidnapped by her ex-husband's billionaire rival? That he had offered the perfect revenge in exchange for marriage? They would think she had lost her mind. So she kept ignoring them, buying time to plan.Saturday morning brought a rude shock. Right after breakfast, a security guard burst in. "Your family is at the gate ma’am.”For a paralyzing moment, Isla stood frozen, panic turning her limbs to stone. Damien was home. This couldn't be happening."Tell them I'll be out in a minute," she managed to whisper, the words sticking in her dry throat.Minutes later, Isla finally summoned the courage to step out of the house. From a distance, she spotted her father, Robert Carter, standing firm at t
The stylists were done and left a moment ago. Now Isla stood alone in her room gazing into her reflection in the mirror to see their finished work.They had transformed her into a goddess.The deep emerald necklace on her neck shone under the light. The glow of her face intimidated her. The dress they had selected was impeccable: a velvet gown whose off-shoulder cut exposed the smooth, shiny lines of her collarbones.“Great job,” She whispered.This is what being the wife of Damien Blackwood meant. It was nothing like before when she was just a glorified maid bound to the kitchen.Now she was someone stronger. Someone who belonged in this world of power and ruthless ambition. Someone who was not allowed to be vulnerable. But was she?She hummed, not allowing herself to pursue the thought further. “It was almost time for the party.”~~~Isla stepped out about five minutes later, moving with careful control, the sound of her heels steady against the glittery floor. Something switched
Days later, Isla was sitting alone in the office of her new boutique, her manicured fingers eagerly skimming over the contract papers spread before her. From what she was seeing, her business proposal had won multiple grants, zero-interest loans, and exclusive sponsorships. One after another, the contracts bore the names of the high-profile investors and elite brands that had endorsed her. This was the kind of win she ordinarily would have spent years trying and failing to get the attention of, but like magic, it was lying freely on her palms.“Wait…is this for real?”Her expression hardened slightly as she queried herself. It was true that she had worked tirelessly for this, she had poured every element of her ambition into this dream business for some time now.But even so… this came way too easy.“Too convenient.”Just like that? Her brows knitted as she leaned back into the chair in contemplation. The rhythmic tapping of her finger against the desk echoed softly as she tried to
Isabella was literally glued to Damien's side as they arrived at the venue of the Blake Group’s much-anticipated gala later that night.Damien's attention seemed to be elsewhere, despite being right beside her. His eyes were vague and distant.And when they finally got into the main hall, his eyes swept the entirety of the large room the moment they were past the door.He looked searching, he looked calculating.It was obvious he wasn’t here just to sip wine or listen to some bland, repetitive music. Neither was he here to schmooze or pose for staged photos. Not really.As far as Damien was concerned, this was his definition of strategy.The organizers of this event, ”The Blake Group,” were no ordinary conglomerate. It was a machine of influence. Philanthropy was only a scratch on the surface of what they were actually about. Beneath it ran an even deeper stream of power: talking about quiet funding for political campaigns, backdoor partnerships with foreign stakeholders, and now,
A week had passed now since Damien and Isla's heated exchange and in the days that came by, neither of them had brought it up.Not once. But that did not mean that things had remained the same between them. The exact opposite had happened.Like before, when they had once crossed lines and silently stepped back this time, the retreat wasn’t colored with the tension of attraction but the quiet hostility of emotional distance. It was Isla, especially, who started to draw this line.The leisurely meals she used to cook once in a while had immediately stopped.The waiting up she once did for him whenever he was delayed at work was gone, too. Now, the kitchen belonged fully to the maids again, just the way Damien supposedly preferred it. A contract of convenience right? Nothing more.And Isla stuck to this role with a new stony discipline. Her movements were triangular now; wake. Dress. Work. Return. Sleep. Repeat. No glances nor greetings.At first, Damien acted like he didn’t notice
Later that afternoon, Damien was back in the office. His posture was relaxed but not completely. His eyes, though focused on the document before him, hadn’t truly read a single word in the last half hour. They were as distant as that of a man present in a room but miles away in thought.He ground his teeth.For the last few minutes since his return, he had been thinking about his last parting words to Isla at her boutique after the slightly heated exchange between them.“Don’t forget this is just a contract. No personal feelings.”The words echoed in his head again, like something someone else had said. He dragged a hand across his face. What was he even thinking when he said that? Isla’s face when he uttered those words was still very much clear in his head, her silence, her distant eyes. He remembered it all too well now. And it stung more than he expected. He hummed and said nothing else.His thoughts now went farther back to earlier that same morning, back at the mansion. Damie
It was 11:43 PM and the entire estate was now swallowed by silence.Yet back in her room, Isla was still awake sitting upright at the edge of the bed, with her back arched forward. The duvet remained untouched behind her.And her right hand was holding up her phone at eye level as the screen reflected in her tired weary eyes. She was staring at the message box specifically, the space where Nate’s strange text earlier that evening had once been.The single message that bore just his name.Just “Nate.”Of course, she had since deleted it, but the memory of it still disturbed her head like a stubborn echo.But why?She had not stopped asking herself that question since she came back from work hours ago. No typo, no follow-up text. No missed calls. “Nothing”Just that one name. Sent deliberately. As though meant to say something without saying anything at all.What was his motive now? What was Nathaniel planning?She didn’t know what to make of it, but she knew that bitch that was l
Isla stared back at Isabella. Her posture did not change, but the meaning behind her unsolicited history lesson did not go unnoticed. It hung in the air like poison. Isla controlled her expression and tried not to let it show on her face. She folded her arms slightly, offering a cool smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and in an equally dry tone she responded, “Well, lucky you still remember.” There was a pause; Isabella lifted one of her brows as if she were amused or unimpressed. But in the end, she said nothing else. The quiet animosity between the ladies stretched taut, heavy like a cloud of rain that refused to burst. Getting to her boutique later that morning, Isla entered her office, shut the door, and lowered herself into her chair with an attitude to speak of restraint. She was in a fight with herself, her head, and her mind, trying not to think of the last few minutes back home and, as a matter of fact, the last 24 hours. Trying not to think of Damien and his
Isla stared at Damien for a little too long.She allowed his question to hang in the air at first because of the speed with which he had caught her off guard and secondly, because she could not seriously believe he was asking her that. So he really wanted to know if she would be okay with him bringing in his mistress…or old friend rather than living in a space that was supposed to be theirs. In the end, she gave a small shrug.“Why are you asking if it would bother me?” Her tone managed to remain smooth, but there was a glint in her eye. “I thought personal feelings weren’t allowed.”Damien didn’t blink. His eyes, however, stayed fixed on her like he was trying to read her mind as usual.“I’m simply being polite,” he finally replied coolly.Isla’s face twisted, her nose wrinkled, then she shook her head at once.“No,” She blurted. “No, you’re just being cruel.”Then without waiting for what he would say next, she turned around sharply to resume her procession to her room, disappear
The next morning Isla discovered Damien had disappeared from the mansion.After her return from work yesterday, she had carried herself through her routine blindly, dodging the memory of everything that had taken place before she closed from work, and barely seen Damien since then. All that she had heard yesterday from her room notifying her that he was back was the echo of his footsteps on the stairs and of the maids greeting him.He also had not bothered to check up on her. And strangely, she wasn’t sure if she was relieved by that or disappointed.This morning, he just left without even leaving as little as a text or a voicemail behind.Although she tried searching a few extra places to be double sure of the observation, particularly his study. Yet she had found nothing, he was really gone.“Just like that? Was that how it is now?”After letting out a gasp she blinked rapidly as she tried to make sense of the sinking feeling.Soon after that, she stepped back, walked to the nearest
Over a week had passed since Isla saw a bit of Damien's vulnerable side. They had quietly returned to their normal way of life since then, with neither of them trying to bring the event up.However, despite the pretense, it was so clear that something had changed between them.And this “change” started with no other person but Damien himself.For five straight days now, he has been showing up at Isla’s boutique at exactly 5:00 p.m. He sent No texts. He made no explanations; all he did was appear at the exact time she was closing to pick her up.Three times out of the five times, he had asked in that low, dry voice of his, keeping his gaze straight ahead,“Did you eat today?”And Isla had tried her best to answer back as stiffly as possible. There were no romantic gestures, no flowers, no small talk. Just silence. But it was also obvious that it wasn’t just business anymore.Another unexpected thing that happened during the week was two days ago, which was on Friday.Clarissa, Damien
“Something in the air was wrong.”Since the beginning of today, and maybe even a bit of yesterday, Isla had started to notice some weird developments in the mansion.It had nothing to do with the curtains, lighting, or even the decor as a whole.It was about her husband…Damien.The usual routine of his existence, his ever-enduring discipline, had taken a surprising pause.For the first time since they signed the contract, Damien, of all people, did not go to work. And guess what? Today was a Monday.“A proper work day!”Isla was already dressed up for her boutique shift, expecting to find the mansion empty by that hour.But instead, she stepped out of her room to see the young man in the sitting room.“Still in his house clothes.”A sight that until now, she would have classified as close to impossible.Isla remained still for a second, her eyes narrowing in quiet curiosity.Damien was slanted on the couch and by his side was his smartphone buzzing over and again to a call, yet ignor