The ceremony was nothing like Isla had imagined a wedding should be. There were no flowers, no music, no guests to celebrate the union. It was held in a private office at city hall, the cold walls and lifeless decor mirroring the emptiness in her heart.Killian Blackwood stood beside her, his tailored suit immaculate, his expression unreadable. He had barely looked at her since she arrived, as if this was nothing more than a routine business deal. And to him, it was.The officiant cleared his throat, glancing between them. "Do you, Killian Blackwood, take Isla Carter to be your lawfully wedded wife?"Killian didn't hesitate. "I do."His voice was steady, devoid of emotion. He could have been agreeing to a contract merger for all the warmth he showed.Isla's chest tightened as the officiant turned to her. "And do you, Isla Carter, take Killian Blackwood to be your lawfully wedded husband?"She swallowed hard, her fingers trembling at her sides. Every fiber of her being screamed at her
Isla had barely settled into her cold, lifeless new reality before fate threw another cruel twist her way.The morning after her sham of a wedding, she forced herself out of bed, determined to regain some semblance of control over her life. She wasn’t going to spend her days cowering in the east wing while Killian acted like she didn’t exist. Dressed in a simple yet elegant dress—something befitting a woman of the Blackwood name—she descended the grand staircase, her heels clicking against the marble. She was making her way toward the dining hall when she heard voices in the lounge.A woman’s voice. Sultry. Confident. Familiar.Her heart froze in her chest.No. It couldn’t be.But as she stepped closer, the sight before her stole the breath from her lungs. Celeste. Her stepsister sat comfortably on one of the velvet chairs, her legs crossed as she sipped from a crystal glass. Her golden-blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders in perfect waves, her designer outfit impeccable. But it
The tension inside Blackwood Manor had grown so thick it could be cut with a knife. Every encounter between Isla and Celeste felt like stepping onto a battlefield, and yet, the one person who should have intervened—the man who had dragged her into this hellish marriage—remained as indifferent as ever.Killian Blackwood carried on with his life as if nothing had changed. He barely acknowledged Isla’s presence, except when necessary. Meanwhile, Celeste had made it her mission to remind Isla at every possible turn that she was nothing more than an inconvenient placeholder in a world she did not belong to.The dining hall was no exception.One morning, Isla found herself seated at the long, gleaming table across from Celeste, who had invited herself to breakfast as if she owned the place. The staff moved efficiently around them, pouring freshly brewed coffee, placing delicate plates of fruit and pastries before them. Killian sat at the head of the table, reading the financial section of t
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 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
Isla stormed down the dimly lit hallway of the Blackwood estate, her heart pounding against her ribs like a war drum. Every step she took felt heavier, like the weight of her emotions was dragging her down. She needed to get away—from this house, from Killian, from the suffocating grip he had on her life. The air felt thick, suffocating, as if the walls themselves were closing in on her, warning her that no matter how far she ran, she could never truly escape him.But as she reached the grand staircase, a chilling voice stopped her in her tracks."Going somewhere?"Killian’s voice was smooth, controlled, but Isla could hear the tension beneath it. Slowly, she turned to face him. He stood at the top of the stairs, his broad frame illuminated by the dim chandelier light. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—those stormy, conflicted blue eyes—were locked onto her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine."I don’t owe you an explanation," Isla shot back, straightening her
Isla sat in the grand library of the Blackwood estate, her fingers tracing the rim of the untouched cup of tea before her. The storm outside mirrored the turmoil within her, thunder rolling across the sky like an omen. She had thought she was past this pain—past the way her heart clenched every time Killian's name came up. But the last few days had proven her wrong.She had been a fool to think that he would ever put her above his power, above his twisted loyalty to Celeste. Even after everything, even after the undeniable tension between them, he had still chosen to stay by Celeste’s side."You should eat something," Evelyn, the housekeeper, urged gently as she placed a fresh plate of food before Isla.Isla gave a hollow smile. "I’m not hungry."Evelyn sighed, concern lining her face. "You barely sleep, you barely eat. This is no way to live, dear.""I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine." Isla’s voice was clipped, a sharp contrast to the dull ache in her chest.Before Evelyn could
Killian had always been a man of control, but as he sat in his office, staring blankly at the stack of contracts before him, he realized he had lost it. Isla’s absence gnawed at him, a festering wound he refused to acknowledge. Yet here he was, buried in work, pretending she hadn’t become the only thought that occupied his mind.A knock at the door disrupted his brooding. He didn’t bother looking up as Damon entered.“She’s waiting for you,” Damon announced, his voice laced with hesitation.Killian exhaled sharply. He knew exactly who ‘she’ was. Celeste.He rose, straightening his suit, and walked out of his office. As he approached the private lounge where Celeste waited, a familiar sense of exhaustion crept into his bones. He had known Celeste for years, but every moment with her felt like a performance.The doors swung open, revealing Celeste lounging on the velvet couch, a glass of champagne in hand. She looked radiant, as always—every strand of her golden hair in place, her desig
The air inside Killian’s office was thick with tension. He stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back turned to Celeste as he stared blankly at the city skyline. Isla’s words haunted him, looping in his mind like a cruel melody he couldn’t silence.I refuse to be nothing.She had walked away from him, and he had let her. But the ache in his chest hadn’t faded. Instead, it had grown, festering into something unrecognizable. And now, here he was, drowning in regret while Celeste stood behind him, her presence suffocating.“I don’t know why you look so miserable, Killian,” Celeste’s voice was smooth, taunting. “You made your choice.”Killian clenched his jaw. He didn’t respond.Celeste sighed and walked closer, placing a manicured hand on his shoulder. “Isla was never right for you. She was a passing distraction. You and I, we belong together. Our families expect it. The world expects it.”He shrugged her off and turned to face her, his icy blue eyes piercing through her facade. “T