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
The morning light streamed through the expansive windows of Isla’s room, but there was no warmth in it. She sat at the dining table, stirring her untouched coffee as her mind churned with unease. The kiss with Killian had left a wound, one she hadn't been able to bandage no matter how much she tried to convince herself that it meant nothing. It had meant something. She had seen it in his eyes—conflict, regret, something deeper he refused to name. But none of that mattered anymore, not after what she had just discovered.Her phone sat on the table, the screen still displaying the news article that had shattered the fragile illusion she had been clinging to. **Killian Blackwood and Celeste Sinclair: Manhattan’s Power Couple Still Going Strong**The headline alone was enough to send a cold chill down her spine. The article detailed an alleged private meeting between Killian and Celeste at an exclusive venue, and though the details were vague, the accompanying picture wasn’t. Killian
Isla sat in the darkness of her room, the only source of light coming from the city skyline outside. The vast metropolis stretched before her, alive with flickering lights and distant sirens, but she felt nothing—just a numb emptiness settling deep in her bones. Her hands clenched into fists on her lap as she replayed the scene with Killian over and over in her mind.He had lied to her. Again.She should have expected it. Killian Blackwood was not a man who dealt in honesty. He was cold, calculated, and only ever did things that served his own interests. And she? She had been a fool—a fool who had let him get close enough to hurt her not once, but twice.Never again.A knock at the door startled her. Her first instinct was to ignore it, but then a familiar voice echoed through the quiet space.“Isla, open the damn door.”Killian.A bitter laugh escaped her lips. Of course, he would come. Of course, he would try to smooth things over with that same cold, detached logic he always used.
Isla’s heels echoed against the marble floor as she stepped into Blackwood Enterprises. Her spine was stiff, her chin lifted high as if the weight of her heartbreak hadn’t crushed her the night before. Killian’s betrayal was still fresh in her mind. The image of Celeste standing beside him, her fingers possessively gripping his sleeve, replayed like a cruel joke. He had lied. Lied about the engagement being over. Lied about wanting Isla in any way that mattered. Yet, here she was. She had convinced herself that she was here for closure—for control over her own narrative. But deep down, a part of her knew she was drawn to the flame, even though she had already been burned. The receptionist looked startled as Isla stormed past her desk without so much as a glance. She didn’t need an appointment. She was his wife—secret or not. She had every right to demand answers. The doors to Killian’s office were shut, but that didn’t deter her. With a firm push, she burst inside, her pulse ha
The evening air was thick with unspoken words as Isla sat in the dimly lit library of the Blackwood estate. The fire crackled softly in the background, casting flickering shadows along the mahogany bookshelves. She had buried herself in a book, hoping that the fictional world would offer some solace from the chaos of her reality, but her mind kept drifting back to Killian. The way he had kissed her. The way he had pulled away. The way he had shattered whatever fragile understanding had begun to form between them. She hated him for it. And she hated herself for letting him affect her so deeply. A sharp knock at the door startled her. Before she could respond, the door creaked open, revealing the one person she was trying to avoid. Killian. He stepped inside, his imposing presence filling the room instantly. Dressed in a tailored black suit, his stormy blue eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. There was something different about him tonight—som
The tension in the Blackwood estate was suffocating, an invisible force pressing against Isla’s chest as she paced the length of her bedroom. Sleep had been impossible, her mind a tangled mess of emotions and memories. Killian’s words from earlier echoed in her head, leaving her restless and on edge. *You think I don’t want you? You think I don’t fight every damn day to keep my hands off you?* Her stomach twisted at the memory, at the raw hunger in his voice, the way his fingers had ghosted against her cheek before he had shut himself off again. It was maddening—the way he ignited something inside her only to douse it in cold indifference moments later. A sudden knock on her door made her freeze. For a brief second, she debated ignoring it. But deep down, she already knew who it was. Taking a deep breath, she strode toward the door and pulled it open. Killian stood there, dressed in another perfectly tailored suit, though his tie was loosened, his top button undone. His eyes,
The heavy silence that stretched between them was deafening. Isla’s breath came in shallow bursts as she locked eyes with Killian, trying to read the emotions swirling beneath the surface of his cold exterior. But Killian Blackwood was an enigma, a man who had mastered the art of hiding his true feelings behind a carefully curated mask. Yet tonight, standing in the dim glow of the Blackwood estate, there was a shift. A crack in his armor. And Isla wasn’t sure if she was ready for what lay beneath. Killian took a slow step forward, his towering presence making the air between them thick with tension. Isla clenched her hands into fists at her sides, willing herself to remain unaffected, but her traitorous body reacted to him in ways she wished it wouldn’t. “You should go inside,” he murmured, his voice carrying an edge of restraint. She lifted her chin defiantly. “Why? So you can keep running from whatever this is?” His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he was on the
The city skyline stretched endlessly before Isla as she stood on the balcony of the Blackwood estate, her fingers gripping the railing so tightly her knuckles turned white. The night breeze carried the faint scent of rain, cool against her skin, but nothing could cool the fire raging inside her. Killian had left her raw, exposed, and for the first time in her life, powerless. She had never allowed anyone to have such an effect on her, but here she was—twisting and unraveling beneath his touch, his words, his cold, distant gaze that somehow burned her more than any flame ever could. "You should be careful standing out here alone," a deep voice drawled from behind her. Isla stiffened, her heartbeat quickening as she turned to find Killian leaning against the doorway. He was dressed in his usual impeccably tailored suit, the black-on-black combination doing nothing to soften the sharpness of his features. His piercing blue eyes studied her, unreadable yet intense, as if he was analyz
Isla sat by the floor-to-ceiling window of her temporary apartment, watching the city lights twinkle against the night sky. It had been three days since she had seen Killian—three days since he had walked out of her life without a single word.She told herself she was fine. She told herself this was exactly what she wanted. But the ache in her chest told a different story.Her fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of the tea cup in her hand, the warmth doing little to chase away the cold that had settled in her bones. Just as she took a sip, a sharp knock echoed through the apartment, startling her.Her heart leaped to her throat.No. It couldn't be.She set the cup down and cautiously approached the door, her fingers trembling as she reached for the handle. When she pulled it open, her breath hitched.Killian stood there, drenched from the rain, his white shirt clinging to his sculpted frame. His normally pristine appearance was in disarray—his tie hung loosely, his hair was a mess,
The tension in the Blackwood estate was suffocating. It wrapped around Isla like an iron vice, each moment stretching unbearably long as she waited for Killian to make a choice—his fiancée or her. The weight of his silence, his hesitation, only deepened the wound that had already split open inside her.She had never truly believed she could win against Celeste. The woman was a force of nature, perfectly sculpted into the kind of partner Killian had always been expected to have. Sophisticated, ruthless, untouchable. Isla, in contrast, was the unexpected disruption, the messy storm that had unsettled the balance of his life.The morning light poured through the large windows of the estate, illuminating the grand dining room where Killian sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable. Isla stood at the opposite end, her arms crossed over her chest, her stomach twisting with unease. Celeste, ever poised, was seated beside him, one hand resting on his forearm in a display of owne
Killian sat in his office, the weight of his entire world pressing down on his shoulders. The sun had set hours ago, but he hadn’t moved from his chair. Documents lay scattered across his desk, but none of them held his attention. Not when his mind was consumed by a single, inescapable dilemma—choosing between his engagement with Celeste and Isla, the woman who had turned his world upside down.He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, exhaling sharply. The logical part of him told him that Celeste was the right choice. Their engagement had been meticulously planned, an alliance between two powerful families. But Isla… she was the chaos he never expected, the storm that had wrecked his carefully constructed walls. And the mother of his child.A sharp knock at the door shattered his thoughts. He knew who it was before even looking up.“Come in,” he said, his voice low, drained.Isla stepped inside, her expression unreadable. She had changed out of the soft loungewear she had been wear
The world had erupted into chaos. Isla had barely caught her breath after Celeste's malicious revelation before the media frenzy descended upon her like vultures. Every news outlet, every social media platform was plastered with headlines that dissected and scrutinized every aspect of her life. Killian Blackwood's secret lover. A scandalous pregnancy. The heir to the Blackwood fortune.Isla paced inside the confines of Killian’s penthouse, her heart slamming against her ribs as she watched the news coverage. Paparazzi swarmed the entrance of the building, their cameras flashing like lightning, waiting to capture her downfall.Killian stood by the window, his posture stiff, his jaw locked. He had been silent since the press conference, his expression unreadable. The weight of his presence filled the room, suffocating her as much as the suffocating glare of the world outside."Say something," Isla finally demanded, breaking the thick silence. "Aren’t you going to do anything?"Killian t
The city lights flickered in the distance, casting a cold glow through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of Killian’s penthouse. Isla stood by the window, arms wrapped around herself, trying to steady the storm raging within her. The news of her pregnancy had exploded in the media like wildfire, and there was no doubt who was behind the leak—Celeste.Killian had been unusually silent since the story broke, and that silence was suffocating her.The sound of the door clicking shut sent a shiver down her spine. She turned to see Killian, his expression unreadable as he set his phone down on the glass table. He looked as if he had been battling demons of his own, his jaw tight, his shoulders tense.“Say something,” Isla finally whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his already-disheveled hair. “The damage is done.”Her fingers curled into fists. “That’s all you have to say?”“What do you want me to say, Isla?” he
The world felt like it was spinning out of control. Isla could hear the frantic whispers, the chimes of endless phone notifications, the growing tension in the air. The scandal had broken.Her pregnancy was no longer a secret.The news was everywhere—social media, tabloids, online forums. The headline was plastered across every major news outlet:"Killian Blackwood’s Secret Lover Pregnant—Who is the Mystery Woman?"A lump formed in Isla’s throat as she scrolled through the articles on her phone, her hands trembling. Photos of her had been leaked—some taken at public events where she had been by Killian’s side, others were more invasive, stolen from the shadows like a predator lurking just beyond her sight. Some shots even highlighted the slight curve of her stomach, dissecting every detail with ruthless scrutiny.She felt sick.This wasn’t how she wanted the world to know.Killian hadn’t even processed the news himself properly, and now the entire world had an opinion on it. And worse
The east wing of the Blackwood estate was as eerie as Isla had expected. Dust coated the antique furniture, and cobwebs clung to the corners of the high ceilings. The air was cold, untouched by warmth or life. The windows were large, but thick velvet curtains blocked out most of the light, making the place feel like a forgotten ghost town within the mansion’s walls.Killian wanted her to feel isolated.But Isla refused to break.She spent the first night curled up on the massive bed, unable to sleep. The silence was suffocating, pressing down on her like a heavy weight. She wasn’t sure what scared her more—the stillness of the room or the fact that, despite everything, part of her still ached for the man who had put her here.She kept replaying his words in her head. The threat, the possessiveness. And yet, beneath all of that, she had seen the flicker of something else. Something deeper. Regret? Guilt? She didn’t know.By the time the sun peeked through the curtains, she had barely s
The Blackwood estate was suffocating. Each hallway, each grandly decorated room, each polished floorboard felt like another part of Isla’s prison. It didn’t matter how luxurious it was—golden cages were still cages. And she was trapped.After her last confrontation with Killian, sleep had eluded her. She had spent the entire night pacing her bedroom, restless, furious, desperate for some kind of escape. But every path led back to the same bitter truth—Killian wasn’t letting her go.And Celeste was doing everything in her power to ensure she stayed in her place.A knock at the door jolted Isla from her thoughts. Before she could respond, it creaked open, and to her surprise, it wasn’t Killian.It was Dante.Killian’s right-hand man. His enforcer. A man as ruthless as he was unreadable."Boss wants to see you," Dante said, his voice flat as he leaned against the doorframe.Isla’s stomach twisted, but she kept her expression neutral. "Tell him I’m not interested."Dante smirked. "Not exa
Isla sat in front of the vanity mirror in her room, her reflection staring back at her like a ghost of the woman she once was. The fire in her eyes hadn’t dimmed, but it flickered beneath layers of exhaustion and heartbreak. Killian had made it clear—he wasn’t letting her go.Not as his wife. Not as the mother of his child. Not as anything but a possession locked within the confines of this house.A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts."Come in," she said, her voice devoid of emotion.The door creaked open, and to her dismay, Celeste stepped inside, her usual smirk plastered on her face. She was draped in an elegant, deep-red dress that clung to her body like a second skin, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder in perfect waves."Poor Isla," Celeste cooed, shutting the door behind her. "Trapped like a little bird in a gilded cage."Isla met her gaze through the mirror, refusing to react. "Did you come here to gloat?"Celeste chuckled, moving closer, her heels cli