The days blurred into weeks, and Isla had grown accustomed to the frigid atmosphere of the Blackwood estate. Her marriage to Killian was nothing more than a legal contract, but something was shifting. She could feel it. Though Killian remained distant, his indifference wasn’t as effortless as before. She noticed the subtle things—the way his gaze lingered a second too long, the way his jaw clenched whenever Celeste spoke to her, the way his fingers curled into fists when she held herself with quiet defiance. There were cracks in his carefully built armor. But every time she tried to peer inside, he shut the door before she could step through. ---One evening, Isla was in the library, seeking solace in the quiet. Books had always been her escape, and tonight, she needed it more than ever. Celeste had spent the entire afternoon throwing barbed insults her way, barely concealing her disdain. Worse, Killian had barely acknowledged her presence at dinner, making her feel like a
The grand ballroom of the St. Regis Hotel shimmered under the dazzling glow of crystal chandeliers, the air thick with the scent of champagne and designer perfume. It was the kind of event where billionaires solidified alliances, where high society preened, and where every interaction was a game of power.Isla stood at the edge of it all, her hand tightening around the stem of her untouched champagne flute. The evening was supposed to be a show of unity—a chance for her and Killian to present their marriage as unshakable. Instead, he had barely acknowledged her since they arrived.Instead, he was with Celeste.The woman draped on his arm, laughing at his every word, was her stepsister and his supposed "fiancée." The very woman who had taken every opportunity to humiliate her behind closed doors. Now, in front of flashing cameras and scrutinizing eyes, Killian had chosen to flaunt her like a prized possession.A sharp pang twisted in Isla’s chest, but she masked it with an impassive ex
Isla’s heart pounded as she threw open the doors to their bedroom. The echoes of the evening’s humiliation still burned in her veins, each whisper, each smirk, each dismissive glance from Killian replaying in her mind like a cruel joke. Her hands shook as she grabbed the first suitcase she could find, yanking open the closet doors with a vengeance.She had endured enough.If he wanted to treat her like she was nothing, she would show him just how easily she could disappear from his life.Furious tears blurred her vision as she pulled dresses off hangers, tossing them into the open suitcase. Shoes, makeup, jewelry—all reminders of this toxic, hollow marriage—were discarded like the illusions they had once been. She refused to be his pawn, his burden, his puppet on display while he paraded around with Celeste.A cold voice cut through the silence. “Going somewhere?”Isla froze, her fingers tightening around a silk blouse. The deep baritone of Killian’s voice sent a shiver down her spine
The sun barely broke through the gray clouds over the Blackwood estate, casting muted light across the grand hall. Isla sat at the long dining table, untouched breakfast in front of her, eyes fixed on the steaming cup of coffee she had no intention of drinking. She wasn’t hungry. She was angry. After last night, after Killian’s warning, she had lain awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering how she had let herself get tangled in his world, in his web. And worse, how she had let herself believe, even for a second, that there was something beneath his icy facade worth holding on to. No more. The butler set down a fresh plate of croissants, bowing his head slightly before stepping away. Isla sighed, pushing the food farther from her. A quiet clicking of heels against the marble floor made her tense.Celeste. The woman who had tormented her since childhood, now playing the role of Killian’s fiancée while Isla was reduced to nothing more than a ghost in her own marriage. “You look dr
The storm had come out of nowhere. The sky, once a dull gray, had deepened into an ominous black as thunder rumbled across the horizon. Heavy raindrops pounded against the pavement, turning the Blackwood estate’s vast courtyard into a glistening sheet of water. Isla barely noticed. Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out everything else as she stormed down the driveway. She didn’t care that she had no destination. She didn’t care that her dress was soaked through, clinging to her like a second skin. All she knew was that she had to get away. Away from the suffocating walls of the Blackwood mansion. Away from Killian.Her hands clenched into fists as she replayed their last conversation in her mind—the way he had looked at her with that infuriating mix of detachment and possession. He thought he could control her. He thought she would bend and break just because he said so. Not anymore. She had been so consumed by her thoughts that she hadn’t heard the car. Not until it was t
The morning sunlight spilled through the grand windows of the Blackwood estate, casting golden streaks across the marble floor. Isla sat at the breakfast table, stirring her tea absentmindedly, her mind elsewhere. Across from her, Killian sat with his usual air of indifference, his fingers scrolling through his phone, a steaming cup of black coffee untouched beside him.It had been a week since the accident, a week since Killian had shielded her with his own body, proving—if only for a moment—that beneath his icy demeanor, something else lurked. But after that night, he had returned to his cold, distant self, shutting her out as though nothing had changed.But for Isla, everything had changed.She was done waiting for Killian Blackwood to acknowledge her, done feeling like an unwanted ghost haunting the halls of his empire. If she was going to survive in this world, she needed to build something of her own.Placing her cup down with deliberate softness, she looked up. "I'm going out t
Isla hadn’t expected to be noticed so quickly. Her first week at *Harrison & Co.* had been overwhelming, but she found solace in the work. There was something freeing about designing spaces, bringing visions to life. It gave her a purpose—one she desperately needed.But she hadn’t anticipated the attention that came with it.It started at a charity gala, an event her boss insisted she attend. As an up-and-coming designer in Manhattan’s elite circles, networking was key. She had been reluctant at first, but when she arrived, she realized how much she had missed feeling confident, feeling seen.And someone definitely saw her.Nicholas Vaughn.A name that carried almost as much weight as Blackwood in the world of business. He was charming, refined, and devastatingly handsome. More importantly, he was interested in her—not as Killian Blackwood’s wife, but as Isla Blackwood, the designer making a name for herself.When he approached her with a knowing smirk and an extended hand, she didn’t
The mansion was silent except for the faint sound of the city humming outside. Isla stood near the window, arms crossed over her chest as she gazed at the endless Manhattan skyline. The night stretched before her like a vast, open road—a road she wished she could escape down, far from the chaos of Killian Blackwood.The tension between them had been unbearable since the gala. Every interaction was a battlefield. He had ignored her for days, but his presence still loomed, an ever-present storm ready to unleash its fury. The sound of approaching footsteps made her straighten, but she refused to turn around. She already knew who it was. "You’ve been avoiding me," Killian’s voice was deep, controlled, yet there was a rough edge to it. Isla scoffed, still not looking at him. "That’s ironic, coming from the man who ignores me whenever it’s convenient."A sharp exhale. "That night at the gala—"She finally turned, her gaze meeting his with defiance. "What about it?" His jaw clenched. "Ni
Isla stood before the mirror in her small but cozy apartment, adjusting the collar of her white blouse. The reflection staring back at her was no longer the fragile woman haunted by betrayal — no longer the Isla who trembled at the sound of Killian’s name.Her eyes were colder now. Stronger. Sharper.Every scar, every tear she had shed built this version of her — and she wasn’t going to hide from her past anymore.The knock on her door snapped her out of her thoughts.She tensed.Nobody was supposed to visit her today.Slowly, cautiously, she approached the door. Peeking through the peephole, relief washed over her when she saw Liam’s familiar face.Still… she opened the door just a crack.“Liam?” she asked.He exhaled a breath of relief. “Isla… thank God.”She widened the door reluctantly and let him in, locking it immediately after.“What’s wrong?” she asked, noticing the tension in his jaw, the restlessness in his steps.He turned to face her, his expression grave.“He’s here.”Her
The city was different in the morning light. Golden rays stretched across the skyline, casting a warmth that Isla barely felt. She pulled her coat tighter around her as she stepped out onto the busy sidewalk, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag like a lifeline. It had been a week since she’d walked away from Killian, a week since she had decided to start over, but the ghost of him still lingered in the corners of her mind, in the spaces between her breaths.She had found refuge in a quieter part of the city, far from the chaos of her past life. It wasn’t luxurious, and it wasn’t permanent, but it was hers. A small studio apartment, just enough space for herself and the life she was trying to rebuild. No more grand mansions, no more suffocating ballrooms filled with people waiting to tear her apart.As she walked, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She hesitated before pulling it out. The screen flashed a name she hadn’t expected—Liam.For a moment, she considered ignoring it, but s
The tension in the room was suffocating, thick enough to choke on. Isla’s heart pounded as she tried to process Liam’s words, but the name alone was enough to send icy fear crawling down her spine.Celeste.The woman who had been lurking in the shadows of Killian’s world. The woman who had made it clear that Isla was nothing more than an inconvenience in her eyes, a pawn in a game she refused to lose. Isla had always known Celeste was dangerous, but if she had found her now…Killian’s expression darkened, his posture shifting into something more predatory. “How the hell does she know?”Liam clenched his jaw, phone still in his grip. “I don’t know, but she does. She’s on her way here.”A sharp curse escaped Killian’s lips. He turned to Isla, stepping closer, lowering his voice to something urgent but controlled. “We need to leave. Now.”Isla bristled, her mind still spinning. “Why? What does she want?”Killian’s gaze was sharp, unwavering. “You know exactly what she wants.”Liam let ou
The city lights blurred through the rain-streaked windows of Killian’s car as he drove with single-minded determination. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles white. The tension in his jaw mirrored the storm raging inside him. Isla had vanished again, slipping through his grasp like smoke, and every second that passed only fueled his desperation.He had been searching for her relentlessly, following every lead, interrogating every contact, and yet she remained just out of reach. But this time, he wasn’t going to lose her. Not again.Killian slammed his foot on the gas, weaving through the streets, his mind replaying their last encounter—the way she had looked at him, not with anger, not with fear, but with something worse.Indifference.It had shaken him to his core, more than any betrayal, more than any argument. Isla had always fought back, had always had fire in her eyes when she looked at him. But that last time… she had simply walked away, as if he no longer matt
Killian had never felt so powerless.The city lights flickered outside the tinted windows of his car as it sped through the streets. His fingers drummed anxiously against his thigh, his jaw locked tight. Every lead had turned into a dead end. Every attempt to track Isla down had only led to more frustration. It was as if she had vanished into thin air.But he wasn’t going to give up.Not this time.Liam. The name alone made his blood boil. The man had inserted himself into Isla’s life, shielding her, keeping her away from him. Killian wasn’t naïve enough to think Isla had gone willingly into his protection—she was too damn stubborn for that—but she hadn’t pushed Liam away either. And that was what unsettled him the most. Had he pushed her so far that she now saw Liam as a better option than him?His grip on the whiskey tumbler tightened before he set it down with an audible clink. His phone buzzed. He snatched it up, his heart hammering.Unknown Number.Killian narrowed his eyes but a
Killian clenched his fists as he paced through his penthouse, the tension in his body coiling tighter with each passing second. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of the city below. It had been weeks since Isla disappeared, and every day without her felt like a war raging inside him. He had been wrong—so devastatingly wrong. His own arrogance, his pride, had pushed her away, and now he was paying the price. The bed felt colder without her, the space she once occupied now a void he couldn’t ignore. He hadn’t just lost Isla. He had shattered something fragile between them, something that might never be repaired. Liam had covered her tracks well. No matter how many resources Killian threw at finding her, she remained a ghost, slipping through his fingers like smoke. He had never been this powerless before. Never. A knock at the door pulled him from his storming thoughts. He turned sharply, his voice tight. “Come in.” Jasper, his most trusted man, en
The silence of Killian’s penthouse was suffocating. Every room, every surface, every breath he took was haunted by the absence of Isla. It had been days since she had vanished from his life, and for the first time in years, he felt truly lost.He sat in his dimly lit office, a tumbler of whiskey resting untouched on the desk before him. His hands clenched into fists as he stared at the empty space where her presence used to fill his world. The weight of his mistakes pressed down on him like an anchor, dragging him into a depth he wasn’t sure he could escape from.A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He didn’t bother looking up when Liam entered, his expression unreadable.“You look like hell,” Liam remarked, closing the door behind him.Killian let out a dry chuckle, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Feel like it too.”Liam crossed his arms. “You’ve been sitting here, drowning in your own misery, while Isla is out there. You gonna do something about it, or just
Isla sat by the window of the dimly lit motel room, her fingers trembling as she clutched the edges of the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The weight of exhaustion pressed heavily against her chest, but sleep refused to claim her. Outside, the neon lights from the diner across the street flickered, casting eerie shadows against the cracked wallpaper.Liam sat across the small table, arms crossed, watching her with a wary expression. He had been silent for the past hour, respecting her space but clearly waiting for her to say something—anything."You should eat something," he finally said, breaking the silence. "You haven’t touched your food."Isla barely glanced at the untouched sandwich resting on the table. Her stomach twisted in knots, making the thought of food unappealing. "I’m not hungry."Liam sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "You need to keep your strength up. If Killian finds us—""When," Isla corrected softly, her voice hollow. "When he finds us."Liam’s jaw clench
Killian clenched his fists as he paced through his penthouse, the tension in his body coiling tighter with each passing second. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of the city below. It had been weeks since Isla disappeared, and every day without her felt like a war raging inside him.He had been wrong—so devastatingly wrong. His own arrogance, his pride, had pushed her away, and now he was paying the price. The bed felt colder without her, the space she once occupied now a void he couldn’t ignore. He hadn’t just lost Isla. He had shattered something fragile between them, something that might never be repaired.Liam had covered her tracks well. No matter how many resources Killian threw at finding her, she remained a ghost, slipping through his fingers like smoke. He had never been this powerless before. Never.A knock at the door pulled him from his storming thoughts. He turned sharply, his voice tight. “Come in.”Jasper, his most trusted man, entere