****The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of Isla’s bedroom, casting golden rays across the room. But the light did nothing to warm the cold dread settled in her stomach. Today was the day. Today, she was leaving.She had packed her bags the night before—just the essentials. A few clothes, her documents, and what little cash she had managed to stash away. Her heart pounded as she zipped the suitcase shut, her hands trembling. This was it. No more waiting. No more hoping. No more Killian Blackwood.A sharp knock on the door made her freeze.“Isla?” Elena's voice, soft and hesitant, drifted through the wood. “Are you awake?”Isla swallowed hard before responding. “Yeah, come in.”Elena entered, her eyes immediately falling on the packed suitcase by the bed. Her face paled. “You’re really doing this?”“I have to, Elena,” Isla whispered, forcing steel into her voice. “If I don’t leave now, I never will.”Elena closed the door behind her and walked over, grasping Isla’s hand
The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain from the night before. Isla sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her dress. Her mind was a storm of emotions—anger, frustration, and a deep, aching sadness that refused to fade no matter how much she tried to push it away.Killian had left her with no choice. His threats loomed over her like a dark cloud, a reminder that her freedom was nothing more than an illusion. She had tried to break away, to sever the toxic bond between them, but he had pulled her back with ruthless efficiency.Her eyes flickered to the envelope on her nightstand—the legal documents that outlined the consequences of breaching their agreement. It wasn’t just about money. Killian had the power to strip her of everything, to bury her under the weight of his influence.A sharp knock at the door jolted her from her thoughts."Isla," a familiar deep voice called from the other side. "Open the door."She swallowed hard, her
The tension in the penthouse was suffocating. Isla stood near the window, her arms wrapped around herself, staring at the glittering cityscape. The weight of Killian’s presence loomed behind her, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.“You can’t just walk away, Isla.”She scoffed, turning around with fire in her eyes. “Watch me.”Killian’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he stepped closer. “You think I’ll just let you disappear?”“I don’t care what you allow, Killian. I’m done.” Isla’s voice wavered, but her resolve didn’t. She had spent too long being a pawn in his twisted game of control and indifference. Not anymore.Killian took another step, his towering figure almost overwhelming, but she refused to shrink back. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t about me, Isla. It’s about the consequences.”She laughed bitterly. “Consequences? Like what, Killian? You threatening to destroy me in court? Using your power to make my life hell?”
The days following Isla’s confrontation with Killian felt like walking through a battlefield where neither side was willing to surrender. She had made it clear—she would not be controlled, not by his power, not by his threats, and certainly not by the unspoken emotions simmering between them. But Killian? He was a man who never lost. And now, he seemed determined to prove to her just how inescapable his world was.Isla sat in the Blackwood estate’s vast library, the scent of aged books surrounding her as she pretended to focus on a novel she had picked up. But the words blurred together. She was restless, her mind an unrelenting storm of thoughts.Killian hadn’t spoken to her since their last argument. Instead, he resorted to silent dominance, making sure his presence loomed over her every moment. If she entered a room, he was there, watching. If she left the house, his security detail followed. She was caged in luxury, but a cage was still a cage."Staring at the same page for fiftee
Isla sat on the balcony of the penthouse, her gaze fixed on the endless cityscape stretching before her. The golden hues of the sunset did little to warm the icy grip of reality closing in around her. The man inside—the one who had bound her to him with ruthless determination—was slowly suffocating every ounce of her will to fight. Killian Blackwood was a force unlike any she had ever known, and despite her growing defiance, she was beginning to wonder if she could ever truly escape him.The glass door behind her slid open, and she tensed before she even turned. The presence of Killian was something she could always feel, an energy that made her skin prickle. He didn’t speak immediately, instead stepping beside her, his eyes scanning the view as if he, too, sought some form of solace in the city’s chaos.“You didn’t touch your dinner,” he finally said, his voice low yet edged with something unreadable.Isla scoffed, not bothering to look at him. “Maybe I’m not hungry.”Silence stretch
The atmosphere in the Blackwood estate was suffocating, thick with an unspoken tension that wrapped around Isla like a steel chain. The grand chandeliers cast a golden glow over the marble floors, but the beauty of the place only heightened the dread in her chest. She had tried to leave, she had fought for her freedom, but Killian had shut down every escape route. And now, she was trapped.Killian stood across the lavish sitting room, his hands in his pockets, exuding his usual cold confidence. But there was a glint in his eyes—a possessiveness that made Isla’s stomach twist."You're making this harder than it needs to be," Killian finally said, his voice calm but edged with warning.Isla’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. "Harder? You’re the one keeping me here like a prisoner! I have every right to walk away."A slow smirk lifted one corner of his mouth. "Not when you're carrying my child."Her breath hitched. That was always his trump card, wasn’t it? The reminder that she w
The tension in the Blackwood estate had reached its peak. Isla had expected Killian to continue his cold indifference after their last heated conversation, but instead, he seemed to be playing a new game—one she wasn’t sure how to win.The morning light filtered through the expansive windows of the estate, casting long golden streaks across the marble floors. Isla stood by the window of her bedroom, watching the city skyline in the distance, her thoughts scattered. She should have felt triumphant—Killian had given her a choice. Stay and submit to his conditions, or fight him and risk losing everything. But why did it feel like no choice at all?A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Before she could answer, the heavy oak door swung open, and there he was.Killian Blackwood.Dressed in an immaculate three-piece suit, he was the picture of effortless power. But his gaze—dark and unreadable—was locked on her with an intensity that made her pulse race. He didn’t look like a man
The penthouse was quiet, the weight of unspoken words pressing against the walls like a silent storm waiting to break. Isla stood near the massive glass windows, her arms wrapped around herself as she gazed at the glowing city beneath her. The view had once mesmerized her, but now it only felt like a gilded cage, trapping her in a world she no longer wanted to be a part of.She had made up her mind. She was going to leave.The click of expensive Italian leather shoes against the marble floor sent a shiver down her spine. She didn’t turn around, already knowing who it was. Killian Blackwood had a presence that demanded attention, even in silence.“You’re still here.” His voice was deep, carrying the weight of something unreadable.Isla’s fingers curled into fists. She exhaled slowly, steadying herself before she turned to face him. He stood in the dim light, his tailored suit pristine as always, his cold gray eyes studying her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken despite herse
Isla stared at her reflection in the mirror, her fingers gripping the cool marble countertop of her bathroom sink. The woman looking back at her seemed like a stranger—eyes hollowed with exhaustion, lips pressed into a tight line of barely contained anger and pain.Celeste had won. The world believed her lies, and Killian had done nothing to refute them. He had let Isla suffer while standing next to the woman who had orchestrated her public humiliation.She couldn’t let this continue.A sharp knock at her front door startled her. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and after everything that had happened, she wasn’t in the mood for visitors. Still, something told her she needed to face whatever awaited her on the other side.With slow, deliberate steps, she crossed the room and opened the door. Killian stood there, looking every bit the powerful man the world revered—except for the tightness in his jaw and the storm raging in his eyes."Isla," he said, his voice a low, controlled growl.She d
The morning sun filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Isla’s penthouse, casting golden hues over the living room. Despite its warmth, she felt cold. The weight of Killian’s call still lingered, the echo of his voice rattling through her mind.She had expected him to lash out, to throw accusations her way, but instead, he had simply said, “Come home.” As if the words alone could undo the damage.Isla wrapped her arms around herself, standing by the window as the city stretched before her. Everything about Killian had always been complicated. He had never been a man of apologies or grand gestures. He was a force of nature—dangerous, unpredictable, and impossible to tame.And yet, she had tried.A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. For a moment, she hesitated. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and after last night, she wasn’t in the mood for surprises.Steeling herself, she opened the door.Liam stood there, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. “I thought y
Isla stared at her phone long after she ended the call. The screen dimmed, but the weight of Killian’s voice still lingered in the air. Come home, he had said, as if it were that simple. As if he hadn’t just stood by and watched her world shatter at the hands of Celeste.She wasn’t going back. Not this time.Liam, who had been watching her closely, leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “So, what now?”Isla lifted her gaze to him, her fingers tightening around the phone. “I need to fight back. I need to make sure Celeste and Killian both realize they can’t keep doing this to me.”Liam arched a brow. “And how do you plan on doing that?”For the first time in weeks, a spark of determination lit up inside her. “I don’t know yet. But I refuse to be their pawn any longer.”Liam exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable. Then, after a beat, he nodded. “Good. That’s the woman I remember.”His words made something tighten in her chest. She turned away, hugging her arms to herself
The room was suffocating with the whispers of the elite. Isla could feel their gazes slicing into her like tiny, precise daggers. After Celeste’s public humiliation at the gala, she had hoped to retreat into obscurity, but the world wasn’t that forgiving.Killian had done nothing. Not a single word of defense, not a single gesture to shield her. The man who once claimed to protect her had stood idly by, letting the wolves feast on her reputation.The aftermath was brutal. The tabloids had a field day with the spectacle. Isla Sinclair—the woman who had dared to step into Celeste DuPont’s path, the woman rumored to be carrying Killian Blackwood’s child—was branded a gold digger, a liar, a disgrace.But the worst part? Killian’s silence.That night, Isla lay awake in her penthouse, the city’s lights flickering through her window. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to leave, to vanish before she was reduced to nothing.Meanwhile, across the city, Liam Caldwell sat in his office, sta
(Isla steps into the grand ballroom, her heart pounding against her ribs. The event is one of the most prestigious gatherings of the year, and as much as she wants to disappear into the crowd, she knows she can't. Her presence has been requested—no, demanded—by Killian. The air is thick with luxury, laughter, and the scent of expensive champagne. Women in glittering gowns and men in tailored suits float through the room, whispering and stealing glances in her direction.)(She swallows down the lump in her throat. She can feel the stares, hear the murmurs. But she doesn’t let it show. Instead, she keeps her chin high and her expression unreadable.)Celeste (smirking, voice dripping with venom): My, my. Look who decided to show up. You must be braver than I thought, Isla.(Isla turns slowly, finding Celeste standing before her in a crimson gown that clings to her figure like a second skin. Her eyes are alight with cruel amusement, and Isla immediately knows she’s up to something.)Isla
The silence in Isla’s apartment was deafening. She had locked the door behind her, resting her forehead against the wood as she tried to calm her racing heart. Her fingers trembled as she let out a slow breath, her mind still reeling from the confrontation with Killian.He had looked at her with something unspoken in his eyes, something that made her chest ache despite everything. But she couldn’t afford to be weak, not now. Not when he had made it perfectly clear that he saw her and their child as an obligation rather than a family.A knock on the door shattered her moment of solitude.Her stomach twisted. She knew who it was before she even turned around. Killian. He had followed her. Again.She closed her eyes, steeling herself, before unlocking the door and pulling it open. Killian stood there, looking just as controlled as ever, though his sharp gaze softened for a fraction of a second as he took her in. Then, just as quickly, the mask was back in place.“What do you want, Killia
The cold evening breeze bit into Isla’s skin as she stood by the penthouse window, her arms wrapped around herself. The city lights sprawled beneath her, glittering like a sea of false promises. Despite the warmth inside the lavish apartment, she felt frozen to her core. The argument with Killian earlier had drained her, leaving nothing but frustration and pain in its wake.Her phone buzzed on the glass coffee table. A number she didn’t recognize flashed on the screen. Isla hesitated before answering, dread curling in her stomach.“Hello?” Her voice was wary.“Ms. Sinclair, this is Attorney Graham. I have urgent legal matters regarding your marriage to Mr. Blackwood. He has issued a formal contract amendment. I need you to come to my office immediately.”Her breath hitched. Legal matters? Killian was trying to formalize their arrangement again, treating their relationship as nothing more than a business transaction. A bitter laugh bubbled up in her throat. After everything, he still w
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