Isabella Carter never imagined she’d become a secret wife to a billionaire—especially not to Alexander Kingston, the ruthless and dangerously handsome CEO who sees marriage as nothing more than a business deal. Desperate to escape her stepmother’s schemes, Isabella agrees to a contract marriage, thinking she can remain invisible in Alexander’s world. But the longer she stays, the harder it becomes to ignore the fire between them—and the way his piercing blue eyes darken whenever she’s near. Just when she starts to believe their cold arrangement might turn into something real, a shocking truth is exposed—one that threatens to destroy everything. Now, Isabella must decide: Does she fight for a love that was never supposed to exist? Or walk away before she loses herself to the billionaire who was never meant to be hers?
View MoreJason sat in the passenger seat, his muscles coiled with tension as Alexander tore through the streets, the car’s tires screeching against the asphalt. The city lights blurred past them in streaks of neon, but neither man was paying attention to the outside world. Inside the car, the air was thick with unspoken accusations, the weight of failure pressing down on them both. Alexander’s grip on the steering wheel was tight, knuckles turning white. His jaw was set, his eyes dark with barely restrained fury. The cold glow from the dashboard illuminated the sharp angles of his face, making him look even more dangerous than usual. Jason knew better than to speak first. But Alexander wasn’t the type to let things go. “You want to tell me what the hell happened back there?” His voice was low, deceptively calm, the kind of calm that came before a storm. Jason exhaled through his nose, keeping his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “I already told you. He escaped.” A muscle ticked in Alexan
Jason sat in the passenger seat, his muscles coiled with tension as Alexander tore through the streets, the car’s tires screeching against the asphalt. The city lights blurred past them in streaks of neon, but neither man was paying attention to the outside world. Inside the car, the air was thick with unspoken accusations, the weight of failure pressing down on them both. Alexander’s grip on the steering wheel was tight, knuckles turning white. His jaw was set, his eyes dark with barely restrained fury. The cold glow from the dashboard illuminated the sharp angles of his face, making him look even more dangerous than usual. Jason knew better than to speak first. But Alexander wasn’t the type to let things go. “You want to tell me what the hell happened back there?” His voice was low, deceptively calm, the kind of calm that came before a storm. Jason exhaled through his nose, keeping his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “I already told you. He escaped.” A muscle ticked in Alexa
The city lay in eerie silence, the glow of streetlights casting long shadows over the empty roads. A convoy of black SUVs moved like specters through the darkness, headlights off, engines humming low. The air inside the lead vehicle was thick with tension, the kind that settled deep in the bones before a storm. Alexander’s hands gripped the steering wheel with quiet intensity, his jaw clenched as he stared ahead. Tonight, it ended. No more chasing shadows, no more whispers leading to dead ends. Vincent was within reach. Jason sat in the passenger seat, methodically checking his gun for the third time in ten minutes. The soft click of the magazine sliding into place barely registered over the pounding in Alexander’s head. “We can’t afford any mistakes,” Jason muttered, eyes scanning the darkened streets. “If Vincent slips away again—” “He won’t.” Alexander’s voice was razor-sharp, his certainty unshaken. He didn’t need to look at Jason to know they shared the same unspoken vow—fa
The night air inside the ruined safe house was suffocating. The metallic scent of blood clung to the walls, seeping into everything like a sickness that refused to fade. The once-secure hideout was now a battlefield marked by bullet holes, shattered glass, and bodies left as a warning. The dim lighting flickered overhead, casting eerie shadows across the destruction. Alexander stood in the center of the wreckage, his fingers curled into fists at his sides. His blue eyes, normally alight with sharp intelligence, were cold and unreadable. He surveyed the carnage left in Vincent Blackwell’s wake—the blood staining the wooden floor, the overturned furniture, the unmistakable signs of a struggle that had ended in death. This wasn’t just an attack. It was a message. And Alexander had received it loud and clear. A slow exhale escaped him, controlled but lethal in its quietness. This was an act of war. And he wasn’t going to wait for another ambush. “We’re leaving.” His voice cut
The jet’s wheels screeched against the tarmac, the landing smooth but offering no sense of relief. The silence that had clung to them in the air remained thick even as the engines whined down. The cabin was dimly lit, but there was no mistaking the tension carved into each of their faces. Isabella’s nails dug into her palms as she stared at the floor, willing the unease in her stomach to settle. It didn’t. Something felt off. Alexander was the first to move, his gaze hard and calculating as he glanced at each of them before standing. “We don’t waste time. Get ready.” His voice was calm, but there was a distinct sharpness beneath it—a warning unspoken yet understood. Jason, usually the one to crack a joke, remained uncharacteristically silent, his green eyes glinting with an unreadable emotion. He rolled his shoulders, the tension never leaving. Dante was much the same, though his fingers twitched against his knee, a sure sign of restrained frustration. Charlotte, small and fragil
The hum of the jet engines filled the cabin, steady and unbroken, but the silence inside was anything but peaceful. It was heavy. Suffocating. A silence that wasn’t relief, but exhaustion—the kind that followed a battle, not because it was over, but because they knew another one was coming. Isabella sat by the window, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Her fingers gripped the fabric of her jacket as if grounding herself, as if she could squeeze out the tension that had wrapped around her spine. She should have felt something. Relief, perhaps. Moretti was dead. Vargas was nothing more than a forgotten corpse in Madrid. Charlotte was safe. And yet, her stomach was twisted in knots, because she knew—some wars didn’t end when the last bullet was fired. Some wars were just beginning. Across from her, Charlotte sat wrapped in a blanket, her pale fingers barely visible beneath the folds. Her face was gaunt, exhaustion clear in the shadows beneath her eyes. She hadn’t spoken much
The air inside the ballroom was thick with tension, a suffocating weight pressing against Isabella’s chest. The chandeliers above cast golden light over the opulent hall, their crystals shimmering like fragile stars. Laughter and music filled the space, but beneath the illusion of elegance, danger lurked. She could feel him watching her. Vargas. His gaze seared into her back, a silent challenge, a taunt that sent a ripple of unease through her spine. He knew. But she didn’t react—not yet. Instead, she let her fingers trail along the stem of her champagne flute, the picture of poised indifference. She had already mapped out the exits, counted the guards, memorized every possible escape route. The plan was simple. In and out. No complications. Then Alexander’s voice came low through her earpiece. “We need to move now.” Her grip on the glass tightened slightly. Across the room, Dante stood near the grand staircase, his stance too rigid, too controlled. He sensed it, too.
The war room felt suffocating despite its size. The air was thick with tension, the weight of what lay ahead pressing down on them like an iron grip. Isabella stood at the head of the table, her fingers splayed against the blueprint of Vasquez’s airstrip. A fortress. Steel gates. Surveillance cameras. Armed guards stationed at every vulnerable entry point. A single mistake could cost them everything. But hesitation? That would cost them even more. "We strike at 0200," she said, her voice sharp, decisive. "Vasquez is overseeing a weapons deal in the hangar. That’s our window." Jason leaned back in his chair, flipping his knife between his fingers. A smirk played at his lips. "Love the confidence, Princess, but Vasquez has numbers. We don’t." "We don’t need numbers," Isabella shot back. "We need precision." Alexander stood near the window, arms crossed, his blue eyes unreadable. "And if this goes wrong?" She met his gaze, unwavering. "Then we don’t come back." A
The air in Alexander’s office was suffocating. Elias Moretti sat tied to a chair, his once-impeccable suit stained with blood, his breathing heavy. He should have been terrified, but instead, that damned smirk still lingered on his lips. Across from him, Isabella stood tall, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. The woman who had once hesitated was gone. And Moretti could see it. "You think you have control here, don’t you?" His voice was hoarse, but the amusement remained. Isabella leaned in slightly, her eyes locked onto his. "No, Moretti. I know I do." The smirk faltered. From the corner, Callum chuckled, still handcuffed but looking far too entertained. "I have to admit, sweetheart, this is a good look on you." She didn’t even spare him a glance. "Shut up, Callum." Jason snickered. "That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to him." Damien flicked open a knife, his grin lazy. "Shame he never takes the hint." Alexander stood near the doorway, arms c
The heavy rain pounded the streets of New York, its relentless rhythm echoing in the distance as Isabella Carter stepped onto the slick pavement. The cold night air cut through her thin coat, and every droplet that splashed against her face felt like a reminder of the turmoil in her heart. Tonight, the world she once knew was crumbling—her father's company, Carter Holdings, had been drowning in debt ever since her stepmother Vivian's reckless spending left them vulnerable. And now, with creditors knocking at the door and her family's legacy at stake, Isabella had no choice but to accept a fate that felt more like a sentence than salvation.She approached the towering glass building of Kingston Enterprises with trepidation. Every step she took was weighted with desperation and the lingering taste of betrayal. Inside, the opulence was in stark contrast to the despair churning within her. Golden chandeliers, polished marble floors, and an air of cold efficiency greeted her as she made he...
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