Chapter 3: A Cold Goodbye

The sun had fully risen by the time Isla gathered the courage to leave Killian’s suite. Even in her expensive gown, she felt exposed, vulnerable. The hallway was empty as she slipped through, her heart pounding with the weight of her regret. Every step away from that room felt like a thousand miles, but it still wasn’t far enough.

By the time she made it to the lobby, her phone buzzed.

**Bestie:** Where are you? I saw you leave with HIM. Tell me you didn’t.

Isla’s fingers trembled over the screen. How could she explain what had happened? How could she admit to the reckless mistake that now clawed at her insides?

Before she could respond, a hotel concierge approached her with a polite but distant smile. "Miss Carter, Mr. Blackwood requested that a car be prepared for you. It’s waiting outside."

Isla stiffened. “Excuse me?”

The man’s expression didn’t waver. "Mr. Blackwood had an early departure and left instructions to ensure you had a comfortable way home."

Early departure.

The words echoed in her head, louder than the sound of her own heartbeat.

She glanced past the concierge, half-expecting Killian to appear, to contradict the words she had just heard.

But he was gone.

A sharp, cold sensation twisted inside her chest. He left. No goodbye, no note—just a silent exit while she was still tangled in the remnants of last night’s recklessness.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it. "Of course, he did."

The concierge hesitated as if unsure whether he should respond, but Isla shook her head. "Fine. I’ll take the car."

She didn’t look back as she stepped out into the fresh morning air, but the moment she slid into the backseat of the sleek black vehicle, everything crashed down on her.

Had she really been that naive?

She stared out the window as the car pulled away from the grand estate. The city was already alive, people rushing through their morning routines, unaware that her world had just tilted off its axis.

Her fingers curled into her lap as she replayed the night before in excruciating detail. The way he had looked at her, touched her, claimed her in a way that had felt real—too real. And yet, she should have known better. Killian Blackwood wasn’t the kind of man who stayed. He took what he wanted and left before morning.

And she had been just another one of his conquests.

---

**Later That Morning**

The moment Isla stepped into her apartment, she kicked off her heels and collapsed onto the couch, exhaustion and humiliation wrapping around her like a vice.

Her best friend, Elena, appeared from the kitchen, a coffee cup in hand. Her sharp blue eyes widened at the sight of Isla’s disheveled state. "Oh. My. God. You did."

Isla groaned, covering her face with a cushion. "Please, just don’t."

Elena wasted no time, plopping onto the couch beside her. "Oh no, we *are* talking about this. You disappeared with the most ruthless billionaire in the city and come back looking like you fought in a war. What the hell happened?"

Isla exhaled slowly. "I was an idiot."

Elena narrowed her eyes. "He was good, wasn’t he?"

A hot flush crawled up Isla’s neck. "That’s not the point."

Elena’s expression turned serious. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," Isla muttered, then hesitated before adding, "Not in the way you mean."

Elena frowned, waiting.

Isla let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "He was gone when I woke up. No note, no message. Just a car waiting outside like I was some… transaction he needed to clear before his next meeting."

Elena’s expression darkened. "What an asshole."

Isla swallowed the lump in her throat. She wanted to be furious, to scream, to erase the entire night from her memory. But the truth was, she had let it happen. She had *let* herself believe, even if just for a second, that there was something behind those dark eyes other than cold calculation.

"What did I expect?" she muttered. "That a man like Killian Blackwood would—what? Stay and have breakfast? Whisper sweet nothings?"

Elena placed a comforting hand on her arm. "You’re not the idiot here, Isla. He is. If he can’t see what he just lost, that’s his problem."

Isla scoffed. "Lost? Elena, I was never his to begin with. I was a distraction. A passing thrill. And I let him use me."

Elena’s grip tightened. "No. You made a choice. And he made his. And his was to run like a coward."

Isla stared at the ceiling, her emotions tangled between anger and disappointment. "Yeah, well, at least now I know exactly who he is."

Elena studied her for a moment before sighing. "Do you, though? Because something tells me Killian Blackwood isn't done with you yet."

Isla didn’t respond. Because deep down, a small, infuriating part of her knew that Elena might be right.

And that terrified her more than anything else.

---

**Meanwhile, Across the City**

Killian Blackwood sat in the back of his town car, his gaze fixed on the city skyline through the tinted windows. His jaw clenched as he ran a hand through his tousled dark hair, frustration brewing inside him.

He hadn’t meant to leave like that. But something about Isla Carter unsettled him in ways he wasn’t ready to face.

Last night had been a mistake.

A mistake he couldn’t stop thinking about.

His phone vibrated, breaking the silence. He glanced at the screen—his assistant.

"Sir, the board is expecting you in twenty minutes. You should be on your way to the office."

Killian exhaled sharply. "I’ll be there soon."

The call ended, and for a brief moment, his thoughts drifted back to Isla. The way she had looked at him last night, the fire in her eyes, the way she had surrendered to him despite knowing exactly who he was.

He had left before he could do something even more foolish—like stay.

With one last glance out the window, he forced himself to push her from his mind.

Or at least, he tried to.