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 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 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 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 tension in the Blackwood estate was suffocating. Isla stood in the center of Killian’s grand study, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if to shield against the storm that was brewing between them. Killian stood a few feet away, his piercing gaze fixed on her, his jaw set in that cold, unrelenting manner that had once both fascinated and frustrated her.But tonight, she was done being fascinated. She was done with everything.“You’re leaving?” Killian’s voice was deceptively calm, but there was an undercurrent of something darker beneath it.Isla lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with a quiet determination. “Yes.”A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Where will you go?”“That’s none of your concern.”Killian scoffed, running a hand through his dark hair. “None of my concern?” He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “That’s rich coming from you, considering how deep you’ve buried yourself into my life.”“I buried myself?” Isla repeated, her voice rising. “You pulled me in, Killian. And
The city skyline blurred past as Isla sat in the back of a sleek black car, the streetlights casting elongated shadows along the pavement. The hum of the engine was steady, but her mind was a storm of memories, regrets, and the ache of severed ties. Every decision, every choice that had led her here, replayed in her head like a haunting melody she couldn’t silence.Liam, sitting in the driver’s seat, stole a glance at her through the rearview mirror. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles slightly white. He hadn’t spoken much since they left the Blackwood estate, giving her space, but the tension in the air was thick.“You okay?” he finally asked, his voice softer than usual.Isla exhaled slowly, her fingers curling into her lap. “Not yet,” she admitted. “But I will be.”Liam nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Where to?”She hesitated. The past few years of her life had been defined by Killian Blackwood. His world. His rules. Now, she was completely unmoored.
The air in Isla’s hotel room was thick with unspoken thoughts as she pushed the half-empty takeout container aside. The food Liam had brought her was good, but she barely had the appetite to finish it. Instead, she found herself staring at the ceiling, lost in a whirlwind of emotions.Across from her, Liam leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he studied her. His usual smirk was absent, replaced by something softer—concern, maybe even understanding.“You look like you’re still in shock,” he remarked.Isla let out a hollow laugh. “I think I am.”“You actually left.”“I did.”He exhaled sharply and shook his head. “Never thought I’d see the day.”“Neither did I.”Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Liam had always been a presence in her life, even in Killian’s world. While she had often dismissed him as nothing more than an associate, an observer in the shadows, she realized now that he had seen more than she gave him credit for.“What now?” Liam finally ask
The hallway felt smaller, suffocating under the weight of tension as Isla faced Killian. His dark gaze pinned her in place, burning with something deeper than anger—possession. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the air between them crackling with unsaid words and unrelenting emotions.Liam’s stance remained rigid beside her, his entire body coiled as if preparing for a fight. “She’s leaving, Blackwood,” he said, his voice even, but laced with warning. “You don’t get to trap her here.”Killian’s eyes flicked to Liam, and something dangerous flickered in them. “I don’t recall asking for your input,” he said coolly before turning his attention back to Isla. “Tell him, Isla.”Her breath caught in her throat. Tell him what? That she wasn’t leaving? That she couldn’t? But she had made up her mind. This was her choice.“Step aside, Killian,” she forced out, her voice barely above a whisper.A muscle ticked in his jaw. “And go where?” His voice dropped lower, and the sheer dominance in his
City lights twinkled in the weight of twilight, as though the horizon itself held bated breath. Killian Blackwood stood against the roof garden of the Carter Foundation, the wind tugging at his open coat, his expression impassive. The city raged beneath him, unaware of the storm brewing in one man's soul.Tonight was not one of pomp and circumstance. There were no fireworks, no red carpet, no over-the-top displays of riches. Tonight was raw, bare, and totally human. It was about truth. About redemption.Killian had sent the invitation to Isla Carter days before, a scribbled note in the bouquet of lilies she still refused to accept. But he knew she'd be there. He had caught it in the quiet between them, in how her eyes clung a beat longer on their last encounter, as if she heard words that he hadn't spoken yet.As she stepped onto the roof, her heels ticking quietly on the wooden deck, Killian turned lazily. The sight of her, in the gentle light of string lights swaying above them, too
The city hummed with its own rhythm, but for Isla Carter, it was all just a bit. softer. Quieter. It had been three days since she'd stood beside Killian Blackwood in the brightly lit community center and said the words she'd never been brave enough to say until that moment. "Maybe I'm still in love with you."Those words had changed everything. And nothing had been rushed. There were no grand statements or fireworks. No immediate talk of labels or planning. Just a slow rebuilding. And for once, Isla didn't feel like she needed to rush to get ahead of her emotions.She was in her bookstore again today. The scent of old paper and cinnamon coffee greeted her, and sunlight streamed through the windows, casting golden squares on the wooden floor. Customers browsed idly through the shelves, and her helper, Margo, waved as Isla entered."Morning, boss. You look. glowy," Margo teased.Isla smiled, her cheeks going pink. "It's the weather.""Okay, let's pretend it's not the sexy billionaire
Rain drenched the sidewalk as **Killian Blackwood** stood at the entrance of the charity gala, his stylish suit soaked, but he didn't move. Umbrellas hovered, cameras snapped, but none of it mattered. Not the murmurs of shock on passersby, not the reporters shouting questions. Not even the blistering disappointment in his father's eyes when the older man stepped from a black limousine, lips pursed into a tempestuous line."Mr. Blackwood—" a journalist shouted, shoving a mic in his face. "Is it true you've ended your engagement with Celeste Van Alder?""Yes," Killian said firmly, his voice crisp. "Because I was engaged to the wrong woman."A collective gasp of shock filled the crowd. The cameras clicked more wildly now, catching the unadorned truth in his eyes."What about Isla Carter?" another journalist shouted. "Are you doing this for her?Killian didn't hesitate. "I'm doing this because I finally realized what real love feels like. And I lost it once. I'm not losing it again."Insi
The following days were filled with subdued skepticism for Isla. She was returned to her life—her job, her schedule—but everything was different. It was as though a small shift had occurred, something she couldn't define, but it gave her an irrevocable feeling that something was coming. She wasn't sure what it was, or how to prepare herself for it, but she knew it would change everything.She sat at her desk in the office, staring into her computer screen, the documents before her blurring to a haze. Her mind kept drifting back to Killian's words. His voice lingered in her head, with the sincerity that both comforted her and disturbed her. She wasn't going to decide yet—she knew that. But whenever she thought she had shaken him off, a part of her wanted the connection they had shared.The phone suddenly rang, snapping her out of her reverie. She glanced down at the screen, her racing heart as it read Killian's name.Her fingers lingered over the phone for a moment, a flash of emotions
It was then, that as evening had descended into a peaceful warmth of air across Westbridge Garden's borders, with rustling of leaves only making their staid quiet sound and all their deep and hidden discussion having so accumulated as now it weighed immeasurably between Isla and Killian. Heart-ravished as much for rage as dread and hope; this war on inner conflicting waves: though in heart-sway she wouldn't, or wasn't quite prepared yet, name and look towards one she found.Killian's gaze was on her, his face unreadable, but Isla could feel the storm behind it. He was waiting. Waiting for her to decide, for her to reach some conclusion that would either set them free or bind them together in a way neither of them had ever imagined. But how could she make such a choice when everything she had once believed about love and trust had been shattered so thoroughly?The quiet between them stretched out, the unspoken words hurled through the air, just beyond his grasp."I'm not asking you to
Isla spent the following days wrapped in a haze of contemplation, the silence of her apartment an ever-present reminder of the choice she had to make. She could still hear Killian’s words echoing in her mind: *“I’ll wait for you, for however long it takes.”* The sincerity in his voice, the rawness of his vulnerability, was something she hadn’t anticipated. It made her question everything—everything about the life she had believed she had built without him, everything about the way she had started to see herself.She had always prided herself on her independence, on her ability to stand on her own two feet without needing anyone. But now, alone in the quiet of her vacant apartment, she couldn't help but wonder if she was deceiving herself. Was she strong enough to let go, to eliminate Killian from her heart, or was she still that woman who had given all of herself to him, only to be broken again?The answer, though, was one that was not to be discovered over the course of a few days. H
The following days were a blur to Killian. He could not shake Isla from his mind standing in the doorway, the city's dim light casting shadows on her face. He had left with nothing but the unspoken promise of time, and for the first time in his life, he truly knew the weight of what he had to prove.He had spent years in the game of power moves, manipulation, and planned actions. But this — this was different. This was real. This was unbridled. And this was the first time in his life when he did not have control.The hours passed into days, each longer than the last, as he gave Isla the space she had demanded. But with every passing hour, he grew more agitated, his head consumed by her. He longed to hear her voice, to watch the flicker of flame in her eyes, to experience the way she made him feel he could be something greater than the man he was.It was no longer love. It was redemption. It was about showing her, and proving to himself, that he could be the man that she could see hers
The city streets were quieter than usual as Killian made his way to Isla's apartment. The choice he had made a few hours earlier sat heavy with him, a reminder of what he had chosen to do. His heart pounded in his chest, a rhythm of excitement and fear, as he stood before her door.His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, seeing another text from Isla. His fingers stalled on the screen before he opened it, holding his breath as he read the message.*I'm home. If you want to talk, I'm here. But only if you mean it. Only if you're ready to be real with me.*Killian felt a pang of guilt. He had been hiding for so long behind walls, behind expectations, behind anything other than his own truth. But tonight was different. He had made the decision to leave Celeste, to walk away from a life that had been carefully created for him in favor of the one that he had always wanted. And finally, the hardest thing was left: to demonstrate that he was ready to be the man Isla needed. He
The night dragged on, a suffocating silence closing in around Killian as he watched Isla disappear into the sea of people. Each step she took was a fist to his chest, each movement a testament to how far he had pushed her away. Her words echoed in his mind, a stinging reality: *It's too late*.Killian was not one to lose control. But here, in the middle of the grand ballroom, he knew how much he had lost. Control had been ripped from his hands like sand, and all that was left were the consequences of his actions.The lights around him blurred, the glittering chandelier above elongating into long shadows across the room. He barely noticed the guests returning to their celebrations, their conversations and laughter a muffled hum in his ears. All he could hear was the silence of Isla's absence, her rejection, the weight of all he had left unsaid.He needed to fix this. Needed to make her see that he was changed now, that he wasn't the same man who'd walked away from her. But with every p