The Kingston estate was beautiful, but it felt nothing like home.
Isabella sat at the edge of the massive bed, staring at the luxurious room that now belonged to her. The events of the past twenty-four hours still felt surreal. Married. To a man she barely knew. A man who was supposed to marry her stepsister. And yet, here she was. Isabella Kingston. Her fingers ran over the smooth gold band on her finger. It felt foreign, like a shackle rather than a promise. A soft knock on the door made her snap out of her thoughts. The door creaked open, and the head maid entered. "Good morning, Mrs. Kingston," the woman greeted, her voice polite but devoid of warmth. "Mr. Kingston has requested you join him for breakfast." Requested. It wasn’t a question. It was an order. Isabella swallowed her pride and nodded. "Lead the way." The halls of the mansion were eerily quiet as she followed the maid through the house. Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, illuminating the marble floors beneath her feet. The house was grand, but there was an emptiness to it—a silence that carried an unspoken weight. The dining room doors were pushed open, revealing a long, elegant table set for two. At the head of the table sat Alexander Kingston, dressed in a sharp navy suit, his piercing blue eyes scanning the papers in front of him. He barely looked up as Isabella entered. “Sit,” he said, his tone firm. She hesitated but obeyed, lowering herself into the chair across from him. A tense silence filled the space between them. The only sounds were the quiet clinking of silverware as Alexander sipped his coffee and glanced over documents. She expected him to ignore her, to eat in silence, but instead, his next words sent an unsettling chill through her. “There’s something you should know.” Isabella froze, her fingers tightening around her fork. "What is it?" Alexander set down his coffee cup and finally met her gaze, his expression unreadable. “I need you to be careful in this house.” Her breath hitched. “What do you mean?” He leaned forward slightly, his voice calm yet laced with warning. “You may have my name, but that doesn’t mean everyone here is on your side.” A cold shiver ran through her. “What are you saying?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. Alexander’s gaze darkened. “I’m saying, Isabella, that you are not safe here.” Her heart pounded against her ribs. “Safe from what?” Alexander exhaled slowly, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach churn. “You’ll find out soon enough.” And just like that, he returned to his breakfast, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on her. But Isabella knew one thing for sure. She had just married a man with dangerous secrets. And if she wasn’t careful… She might not survive them. --- The Secrets of Carter Holdings Isabella barely touched her breakfast. The air was thick with questions she didn’t dare voice. Instead, she studied Alexander as he read through his documents. His chiseled features were sharp under the warm glow of the morning sun, his jaw clenched in deep concentration. But despite his calm exterior, there was something beneath the surface. A storm hidden behind those icy blue eyes. And she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face it. “Your father’s company,” Alexander said suddenly, breaking the silence. “Carter Holdings. Do you know the full extent of its debts?” Isabella blinked. “I… I know it was in trouble. But—” “You don’t know everything,” he cut in, his gaze piercing. A lump formed in her throat. She thought back to the night Vivian had delivered the news. The bankruptcy, the creditors, the marriage arrangement that had been her only escape from complete ruin. Vivian had found a solution—sell Isabella to the highest bidder. That bidder had been Alexander Kingston. The man who should have married her stepsister, Charlotte. But Charlotte had disappeared weeks before the wedding, running off with her secret lover. Rather than face humiliation, Vivian had offered Isabella in her place. And now, here she was—Mrs. Kingston, the replacement bride. Alexander’s gaze didn’t waver. “I took over Carter Holdings for a reason.” She swallowed hard. “And what reason is that?” He set down his fork, his expression unreadable. “Because your father’s company wasn’t just in debt, Isabella. It was targeted.” Her breath hitched. “What?” “There were illegal transactions linked to Carter Holdings. Money laundering. Fraud. Deals with dangerous people.” Isabella’s pulse spiked. “That’s impossible. My father would never—” Alexander cut her off, his voice steel. “He might not have. But someone else did.” Her blood ran cold. Vivian. It had to be her stepmother. “Who was involved?” she whispered. Alexander’s jaw tightened. “I don’t have all the answers yet. But what I do know is that marrying me might have saved you from more than just bankruptcy.” A heavy silence stretched between them. And for the first time since she’d walked into the mansion, fear settled deep in her bones. A Dangerous Discovery The next morning, Isabella awoke to the soft murmurs of staff moving about the mansion. For a brief moment, she forgot where she was—until she turned and saw the grand chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the silk sheets draped over her, and the faint scent of Alexander’s cologne lingering in the air. Reality came crashing back. She was no longer Isabella Carter. She was Isabella Kingston, the wife of Alexander Kingston—a man she barely knew, yet one whose presence commanded her fate. A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. “Mrs. Kingston?” The title still felt foreign. “Yes?” she called out. The head maid, a middle-aged woman with a sharp yet professional demeanor, stepped inside and gave a slight bow. “Mr. Kingston requests your presence for breakfast.” Requests. It wasn’t an invitation. It was an order. Suppressing a sigh, Isabella threw off the covers and got ready. --- An Ominous Warning Minutes later, she walked through the long corridors of the mansion, her heels clicking against the marble floors. When she stepped into the dining room, she found Alexander already seated at the head of the long glass table, dressed in a sharp navy suit. Sunlight streamed through the massive windows behind him, casting a golden glow on his features, making him look even more untouchable. He barely spared her a glance. “Sit.” Isabella hesitated but obeyed, lowering herself onto the chair across from him. Silence stretched between them. She expected more cold indifference, maybe a few clipped words about their arrangement. But then, Alexander’s voice cut through the air, sending a chill through her spine. “There’s something you should know.” Isabella stiffened, gripping her fork. “What is it?” Alexander set down his coffee cup, his blue eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her pulse race. “You need to be careful in this house.” Her breath hitched. Careful? “What do you mean?” she asked, her fingers tightening around the silverware. Alexander leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp and unreadable. “You may have my name, but that doesn’t mean everyone here is on your side.” A sharp chill ran through her. She forced herself to hold his gaze. “What are you saying?” “I’m saying, Isabella, that you are not safe here.” Her stomach twisted. “Safe from what?” Alexander exhaled slowly. “You’ll find out soon enough.” Then, just like that, he returned to his breakfast, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on her. Isabella’s mind whirled. She had just married a man with dangerous secrets. And if she wasn’t careful… She might not survive them. --- The First Clue For the rest of the morning, Isabella couldn’t shake Alexander’s warning. Why would he say something like that? What was he hiding? By mid-afternoon, she had roamed through most of the mansion, avoiding the prying eyes of the staff. She told herself she was exploring—but in reality, she was searching. For what? She wasn’t sure. But then, she found it. At the far end of the west wing, behind a massive mahogany door, was his study. Something about it called to her. Heart pounding, she pushed open the door. The room was dimly lit, filled with the scent of aged leather and whiskey. Dark bookshelves lined the walls, but it was the desk in the center of the room that drew her attention. Papers were scattered across it. Isabella’s eyes scanned them. And then she saw it. A black envelope sealed with a red wax insignia. Something told her this was important. She hesitated. Then, before she could stop herself, she reached for it. The moment her fingers brushed against the envelope— A deep voice cut through the silence. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Isabella spun around, heart hammering. Alexander stood in the doorway, watching her. --- A Dangerous Man He was unreadable as he slowly stepped forward, the door clicking shut behind him. The air grew thick with tension. “What are you doing here, Isabella?” His voice was calm—but there was a quiet warning beneath it. Her pulse pounded. “I—I got lost,” she lied. Alexander’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Is that so?” He took another step forward. Isabella instinctively stepped back, her back brushing against the desk. Alexander’s gaze flickered to the envelope she had nearly touched. Then his entire demeanor changed. Dark. Dangerous. Possessive. “Some doors should never be opened, Isabella,” he murmured, voice low. “And some secrets are better left undiscovered.” Her throat dried. “What are you hiding, Alexander?” His eyes darkened. “Nothing you need to worry about.” But that was a lie. Because Isabella could feel it in her bones— She had just stepped into something much bigger than she could handle. --- Jason’s Betrayal That night, Isabella tossed and turned. Alexander’s words haunted her. And the way he had reacted to that envelope? She knew it meant something. Hours later, she finally drifted into a restless sleep. But she wasn’t asleep for long. Because a loud gunshot shattered the silence. Isabella jerked awake, her heart hammering. More gunshots. Voices shouting. Panic surged through her veins. Then, a loud crash—the sound of someone slamming into the door of her room. Before she could react— The door burst open. And there he was. Alexander. Bleeding. His white shirt was stained red. His face was pale, eyes glazed with pain. “Alexander!” she gasped, rushing toward him. But before she could reach him— Another figure stepped into the room. Isabella froze. Because the man standing there, gun in hand, was Jason. Alexander’s best friend. --- The Ultimate Betrayal Jason’s expression was unreadable. But his eyes burned with something dark. Something dangerous. Alexander gritted his teeth, clutching his wounded shoulder. “Jason…” His voice was a growl. “You bastard.” Jason didn’t flinch. “Sorry, old friend,” he said, his voice almost casual. “But you were never meant to survive this.” Alexander’s jaw clenched. Isabella’s blood ran cold. Jason had shot him? Why? What the hell was going on? Jason’s gaze flickered to Isabella. “And as for you, sweetheart…” He smirked. “You were never supposed to be here.” Fear gripped her. Jason lifted the gun. He was going to kill them both. But before he could pull the trigger— Isabella moved. Fast. She grabbed the nearest thing—a heavy glass vase—and hurled it at Jason. It smashed against his arm. Jason cursed, stumbling back— And that was all the distraction Alexander needed. With one last burst of strength, Alexander lunged, slamming into Jason and knocking the gun away. The two men crashed to the ground. Fists flying. Grunts of pain. Blood splattering across the floor. Isabella didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the gun. And pointed it at Jason. “Step away from him,” she hissed. Jason froze. Alexander panted, struggling to stay upright. Their eyes met. And in that moment, Isabella knew one thing. She had just become part of something deadly. Something she couldn’t escape. And this was only the beginning.The pounding of footsteps in the hallway sent a jolt of adrenaline through Isabella’s veins. Someone was coming. Not Jason’s men. Not Alexander’s allies. Something worse. Jason cursed under his breath. “You want to save him?” He glanced at Isabella before nodding toward the door. “Then move.” Alexander let out a ragged breath, his free hand pressing against the wound in his side. “We don’t have time for this,” he gritted out. Isabella’s grip on the gun remained firm, but for the first time, uncertainty crept into her thoughts. Jason had just shot Alexander—but now he was helping him? Why? She had no time to dwell on it. The door handle rattled. “Move!” Jason hissed. Isabella didn’t need to be told twice. She bolted toward Alexander, slipping her arm around his waist just as Jason did the same on the other side. The moment her hand brushed Alexander’s blood-soaked shirt, reality slammed into her. He was hurt. Badly. Jason reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun
The moment the gunfire outside stopped, a heavy silence filled the air. Isabella pressed herself against the wall, her breath uneven. She could hear footsteps crunching against dead leaves, slow and measured, like a predator closing in on its prey. Jason gripped his wounded arm, his gun still raised despite the blood seeping through his shirt. His face was pale, but his blue eyes were sharp. “They’re waiting,” he muttered. “Trying to make us panic.”Isabella tightened her grip on her weapon. “They don’t need to. We’re already out of options.” Alexander groaned from the couch, his face slick with sweat. His breathing was shallow, and she could feel the heat radiating off his skin. He wouldn’t last much longer. Jason cursed under his breath. “We need to get out of here. Fast.” “Through where?” Isabella hissed. “Front door’s a kill zone. Windows are covered.” Jason’s jaw clenched. He turned his head slightly, listening.Then— A slow clap echoed from outside. “Well, well,”
The weight of Dante’s words followed Isabella long after she left his office."Think carefully about whose side you’re on."The cryptic warning gnawed at her, sending her mind into a storm of doubts. She had spent years surviving on instinct, but now, for the first time, she wasn’t sure who the enemy really was.As she walked through the dimly lit hallways of the safe house, her fingers twitched at her sides. Dante wasn’t a man to throw around empty threats. He knew something.The question was—what?But as she reached the door, something else caught her attention.Muffled voices.Low. Tense.She paused, pressing her ear against the door.Jason’s voice—sharp, but controlled. "You think I meant to shoot you?"A pause. Then Alexander’s voice, quieter but laced with steel. "You hesitated. That’s what got me shot."Jason scoffed. "I hesitated because I didn’t know who the hell to trust in that moment."Alexander let out a humorless chuckle. "Right. And now?"Silence.Then Jason muttered, "
The tension in the air was suffocating. Isabella’s pulse hammered in her ears, and her breath came in shallow, panicked gasps. Her hands were still clenched around the gun, though she no longer felt its weight—only the suffocating feeling that had settled in her chest. Raúl’s words echoed in her mind, each one slicing deeper than the last. “He lied to you, Isabella.” Her father? Lied? She couldn’t process it—couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. The truth felt like an explosion, like a bomb waiting to tear apart everything she knew. “About who really pulled the trigger.” For a split second, everything went still. The room felt as if it was closing in on her. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and horror. Her father was the one who had kept her safe from the dangerous world outside, from the truth. But why had he never told her? Why had he shielded her from the truth? A cold sweat broke out on her skin as memories she’d pushed deep into her subconscious came ru
The night air was thick with tension as Isabella stood in the center of Alexander’s hidden mansion, her heart pounding against her ribs. Jason’s arrival had confirmed what she feared—Dante’s disappearance wasn’t random. It was calculated. And whoever took him wanted to send a message. But that wasn’t the only thing haunting her. Her father’s sins were creeping into the light, forcing her to face a past she never understood. Alexander had known the truth all along. He had married her with secrets buried deep beneath his cold exterior, and now, she was tangled in a world where trust was a luxury she could no longer afford. Alexander paced the room, his presence commanding, his sharp mind already calculating their next move. His men stood around him like shadows—Marcus, Damien, and Nikolai—all waiting for orders. Jason crossed his arms, eyes locked onto Alex. “We need to move fast. If James Michelle was Dante’s last contact, then he’s already a target. If Callum gets to him first
The taste of Alexander’s kiss still lingered on Isabella’s lips, but the weight of Moretti’s words crushed her like a storm. "You have no idea who your husband really is." The sentence echoed in her mind, unraveling everything she thought she knew. Her heart pounded as she searched Alexander’s face for any flicker of emotion, any denial—but there was none. Just calculated silence. “You built your empire by taking Moretti’s,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Is that true?” Alexander’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it. Her stomach twisted. “Then tell me, Alexander. Did you marry me to protect me… or to keep me under control?” For a fleeting moment, something flickered in his gaze—something raw, unguarded. But just as quickly, it was gone. “I married you,” he said carefully, his voice unreadable, “because it was the only way to ensure your safety.” Her pulse quickened. “That’s not an answer.” “It’s the only answer you’re getting.” Before she could p
Callum’s words sliced through the air like a blade, leaving behind a suffocating silence. Isabella’s breath caught. If Adrian Costa wasn’t after her, then who? Alexander’s grip on his gun tightened, his voice razor-sharp. “Talk.” Callum smirked, rolling his shoulders despite the blood caked on his face. “Now, Kingston, you know me better than that. I never give something for nothing.” Jason cocked his gun and pressed it hard against Callum’s skull. “Then let’s make it nothing.” Callum chuckled, completely unfazed. “Please. If you were going to kill me, you’d have done it already.” His bruised gaze flickered toward Isabella, his lips curling slightly. That look.Like he knew something she didn’t. She hated it. Alexander moved swiftly, dangerously, his presence thick with warning. “Who is Adrian going after?” Callum sighed, dragging it out before his smirk deepened. “He’s after your brother.” The world shifted. Alexander froze. His expression was unreadable,
The air in Alexander’s office was suffocating. Isabella stood motionless, every muscle in her body wound tight as Callum leaned back in his chair, a lazy smirk stretching across his face. He was enjoying this, dragging out every second of the truth that was about to destroy her. Alexander stood beside her, silent and unreadable. But Isabella wasn’t blind—his fists were clenched, his breathing was controlled but heavier than usual. And that silence told her everything. Her heart pounded. “What are you talking about?” Callum sighed, tilting his head as if considering how best to break her. “I’m talking about the fact that you were never meant to be your father’s daughter.” A sick chill crept down Isabella’s spine. “That’s a lie,” she whispered, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her. Callum’s smirk deepened. “Oh, but it’s not. You see, your father’s wife—the woman who raised you—fell into a coma after giving birth. And the baby she carried?” He tilted his head, drawing
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 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