When Isabelle's mother, an ambitious socialite, marries for the fourth time, she introduces Isabelle to her new stepfamily. To Isabelle's horror, her new stepbrother is none other than Logan Sinclair—the very boy who tormented her during high school. Seeing him again rekindles all the old fears and resentments. To make matters worse, Isabelle is soon hired as Logan's secretary at Sinclair Enterprises, the megacorporation run by Logan’s father. Isabelle braces for the worst, expecting her nightmare to continue. But instead of cruelty, Logan is calm, professional, and oddly protective of her. Isabelle is torn. The wounds of her past run deep, and the humiliation she endured at his hands isn’t easily forgotten. Can people truly change? Or is Logan just playing a long game, trying to manipulate her emotions once again?
View MoreIsabellaFridays had always been my favorite day of the week, but today felt special. My mind buzzed with excitement as I thought about the weekend ahead. Carlson and I had planned a getaway to his lake house, and I couldn’t wait to escape the endless grind of work, even if only for a couple of days. The day had started well enough, but my bubble burst mid-morning when Logan called me into his cabin.“Isabella,” he barked, holding a printed stack of papers in his hand, “what is this?”I blinked, startled. “The quarterly report you asked for?”“This isn’t a quarterly report,” he snapped. “It’s a mess. The format is all wrong, the data is incomplete, and worst of all, it’s not even your job to make this report! It’s the responsibility of the data analytics team.”I felt a chill creep up my spine. “I... I thought—”“Where did you get the data?” he interrupted, his tone sharp.I swallowed hard, fumbling for words. “Amy told me the files were in the shared drive under ‘Q2 Summary.’ I used
Isabella“So, Isabella,” Amy said, leaning just slightly toward me with her wine glass poised elegantly in hand. “What’s your story?"I hesitated, trying to muster a polite response. “It’s nothing too exciting,” I said, brushing it off.But Amy wasn’t letting go. “Oh, come on! You’re young, beautiful, and clearly a catch. Spill the beans!”I glanced at Logan, who sat across the table, swirling the wine in his glass with a casual ease. His eyes flicked to me, sharp and amused, as if he were enjoying watching me squirm.Amy’s expectant smile was impossible to ignore, so I finally relented. “Well, if you must know... I was seeing someone from my previous office.”Amy’s eyes lit up with interest. “Really? Tell me more!”I sighed inwardly, resigned to giving her just enough to satisfy her curiosity. “His name is Carlson. He was a colleague, and we’d known each other for about a year before we started dating. It’s been... six months now.”Amy tilted her head, her smile unwavering but her ey
LoganThe moment Isabella walked out of my office, I smacked my forehead with the heel of my hand. What the hell was I thinking?It wasn’t like me to lose my cool—or my focus—but there I was, sitting at my desk, replaying the moment like a bad movie.Do you have a boyfriend?I wasn’t even sure why I’d asked. The question had slipped out before I could stop it.Now, she probably thought I was some kind of creep. Fantastic. Just what I needed on top of an already chaotic day.I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly, trying to shake off the discomfort. It wasn’t like me to fumble, especially not around someone like Isabella. Derek walked in, carrying a folder. He placed it on my desk with a decisive thud, oblivious to my inner turmoil.“We need to finalize the influencers for the next advertising campaign,” he began, launching into a rundown of the options. “These are the top contenders based on reach and engagement metrics. I think we should—”“Hmm,” I said absently, my eyes drifting
Logan -Clubs were never my scene. The loud music, the flashing lights, the shallow conversations—it all grated on me. But Derek and a few others had insisted we meet here tonight, promising it would be a “refreshing change.” So there I was, nursing a whiskey neat and trying to appear interested as a blonde with overly dramatic gestures talked at me.I’d already forgotten her name.I nodded at her words, pretending to listen, but my attention drifted. My eyes scanned the room, half-hoping for something, anything, to break the monotony. And that’s when I saw her.Isabella.She stood near a corner booth, her smile radiant as she leaned in toward a man I didn’t recognize. A flicker of something stirred within me. Annoyance? Curiosity? Whatever it was, it tightened my jaw as I watched her laugh at something he said.The man—tall, polished, the kind who looked like he was used to getting what he wanted—was close to her. Too close. Not that it was any of my business.I shifted my gaze back
Logan -I leaned back in my chair, watching Isabella leave my office. She held a notebook in one hand, a pen in the other, her expression focused as she reviewed the notes she’d just taken. It had only been her first week, but it was already clear—Isabella wasn’t the type to waste time or ask unnecessary questions. She was sharp, efficient, and professional to a fault.As the door clicked shut behind her, Derek leaned casually against the frame of my desk, a skeptical look on his face.“She’s quick,” he said, crossing his arms. “But aren’t you expecting a lot from someone who just started? You threw her straight into the deep end, Logan.”I smirked, tilting my chair back slightly. “She’ll handle it.”Derek raised an eyebrow, his expression unconvinced. “Confident, aren’t we? What makes you so sure?”I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk.“If you’d come to my father’s wedding,” I said, my tone casual but laced with meaning, “you’d already know why.”Derek’s brow furrowed, his
IsabellaI was still mid-conversation with Margaret when the atmosphere in the room shifted. The air seemed to grow heavier, the background hum of voices dulling as though the room itself were holding its breath.I turned instinctively, and there he was.Logan Sinclair entered with the kind of presence that demanded attention without trying. His tailored suit hugged him perfectly, the deep navy fabric catching the light just enough to hint at its luxurious quality. Beside him stood a man I didn’t recognize, a wiry figure with a sharp gaze.My stomach tightened as Logan’s eyes landed on me. They were just as I remembered—gray and cold, with an intensity that always made me feel like he could see right through me. For a moment, his gaze locked on mine, and time seemed to stretch impossibly long. I stiffened, every muscle in my body screaming to hold my composure.Margaret, oblivious to the silent storm brewing, smiled brightly and waved him over. “Mt Sinclair! Perfect timing.”I wanted
IsabellaThe hum of fluorescent lights in the office felt different today, a little heavier, a little final. My desk, once cluttered with sticky notes, pens, and the occasional candy wrapper, now looked bare. My last day at work had arrived, and as much as I tried to convince my mom not to drag us into the Sinclair orbit, she wouldn’t budge. So here I was, saying goodbye to a place I’d grown comfortable in, to people who had become a steady part of my life.A small group of my colleagues gathered around my desk, their smiles a mix of encouragement and sadness. “We’re going to miss you, Isabella,” one of them said, handing me a card filled with scribbled well-wishes and good luck messages.“I’ll miss you all too,” I replied, my voice catching slightly.As the group began to disperse back to their tasks, I spotted Carlson making his way toward me. My heart skipped a beat, as it always did when I saw him. Even after a year of dating, the sight of his easy smile still had that effect on m
Isabella“Not Misha,” I managed to say, my voice a mixture of disbelief and mortification.He smirked, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in that infuriating way of his. “Not Misha,” he confirmed, his voice low and amused.“What are you doing here?” I demanded, stepping back and crossing my arms over my chest, as if that could somehow shield me from the sheer awkwardness of the situation.“I came to check on you,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe like he hadn’t just zipped me into a dress. “I saw what Clarissa did."“Well, you’ve checked. I’m fine. You can go now.”He didn’t move. Instead, his gaze flicked over me, lingering just a second too long on the dress. “The blue suits you,” he said, his tone oddly sincere.Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I looked away, pretending to adjust the skirt. “Thanks,” I muttered.There was a pause, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, he said, “Clarissa doesn’t speak for all of us.”That caught me off guard. I glanced up at him, searc
IsabellaI let out a breath of relief as I walked off the dance floor. Thank God that was over. The spotlight, the forced smile, the awkward yet strangely pleasant dance with Logan—it was all behind me now. I headed straight for the bar, desperate for a moment to myself and something to steady my nerves.“Champagne, please,” I said, and the bartender quickly handed me a flute.The cool bubbles fizzed against my lips, and I allowed myself a moment to savor the taste. For the first time all evening, I felt a flicker of calm. That flicker lasted about ten seconds.“Well, if it isn’t Cinderella herself,” a saccharine voice drawled behind me.I turned to see Clarissa, my new stepsister, looking me up and down with an expression that screamed condescension. She was dressed to the nines, of course, in a figure-hugging red gown that practically screamed for attention.“Clarissa,” I greeted, my voice flat.She tilted her head, her smile cold and calculating. “You know, I wasn’t sure how you’d
The grand hotel loomed before me, its marble stairs bathed in the fading amber of the late afternoon sun. I stepped out of the car, smoothing the folds of my elegant silver gown, wishing I could disappear into the pavement. This celebration had nothing to do with me, even though it was my mother’s wedding dinner.I hadn’t seen her in months, not since she’d called to announce she was marrying for the fourth time, this time to a wealthy businessman, Robert Sinclair. I had only agreed to attend because I knew the alternative was worse: weeks of her relentless guilt trips and scathing remarks about my "ungrateful attitude." So, here I was, bracing myself for a night of fake smiles and shallow congratulations.The grand entrance to the hotel shimmered with chandeliers and luxury. As I walked in, a sinking sensation twisted in my stomach. No matter how many times I was pulled into her world of glitz and glamour, I never quite fit in. My mother, once a minor actress who still clung to the r
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