Chapter 1: THE PAINFUL TRUTH

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• IT'S A JOB, NOT A RELATIONSHIP, MR. BILLIONAIRE    CHAPTER 246: A HOME BUILT FROM FIRE

  ISLA'S POV The garden glowed in the soft gold of late afternoon, every candle flickering like it knew the importance of this day. Petals lined the aisle in gentle curves, and above, lanterns swayed with the breeze, casting shadows that danced like quiet blessings.Today was our wedding day.And I was ready.I’d imagined this day once, years ago—back when love was something I read about in books or watched in movies. Back when I thought commitment meant sacrifice, and marriage meant loss of freedom. But now, as I stood before the mirror, a delicate veil resting on my lap, I saw something different.Love was Nathan. And this day wasn’t about giving anything up. It was about becoming more.Judith adjusted the final pin in my hair and stepped back, teary-eyed. “You’re breathtaking,” she whispered.I smiled, catching my reflection one last time. The silk dress hugged my body like it was made for my spirit, not just my figure. My eyes were calm. My hands didn’t tremble. I had never been mo

• IT'S A JOB, NOT A RELATIONSHIP, MR. BILLIONAIRE    CHAPTER 245: THROUGH HER EYES, THE FUTURE

  NATHAN'S POV Rain dotted the windows as I stood barefoot in the living room, cradling a cup of chamomile tea. The sky was painted in layered grays, and the rhythmic tapping against the glass had become the soundtrack to a day that felt both heavy and electric. Nathan was still asleep upstairs, his jacket tossed lazily over the stair rail—proof of a night filled with conversations, confessions, and the kind of silence only soulmates could share.Everything had changed. Again.The letter from Nathan’s father was still resting on the console table by the front door, sealed in a plastic sleeve now, thanks to my compulsion to preserve it like a piece of sacred scripture. He hadn't just left behind memories—he had left a warning. And somewhere in the folds of that paper was a sense of prophecy that neither of us wanted to acknowledge out loud.I turned back to the fireplace, the embers low but warm, and allowed myself a rare moment of vulnerability. There had been threats before. Challenge

• IT'S A JOB, NOT A RELATIONSHIP, MR. BILLIONAIRE    CHAPTER 244: THE LAST LIGHT BEFORE HOME

  NATHAN'S POVThe day started with mist clinging to the windowpanes. A silver fog wrapped itself around the streetlamps and telephone wires like the city was holding its breath. I stood in the kitchen in silence, barefoot, the kettle hissing on the stove, thinking about how quiet life had become in the most beautiful and terrifying way.The threats had stopped.The letters had turned to dust in a file cabinet buried beneath police reports and digital footprints we never managed to trace. Whoever had tried to scare us into running or breaking down had either failed or faded back into the shadows they came from.And now… we were here.Still standing.Isla came into the kitchen with her robe cinched tight and a soft smile tugging at her lips. Her hair was a mess of waves, and her eyes still wore the shimmer of dreams. She kissed my shoulder before pouring herself some tea and leaning on the counter next to me.“You didn’t sleep,” she said gently.I shook my head. “Wasn’t tired. Too much o

• IT'S A JOB, NOT A RELATIONSHIP, MR. BILLIONAIRE    CHAPTER 243: THE ECHO BETWEEN US

  ISLA'S POV There’s something peculiar about silence. The way it fills a space after too much noise, how it hums between two people even when everything looks okay on the outside. Lately, Nathan and I had shared more of that kind of silence—the kind that says everything we were too tired or too distracted to voice.After the relaunch, our days blurred into an endless carousel of appearances, emails, production schedules, late-night planning meetings, and event proposals. I barely had time to breathe, let alone reflect. On the surface, we were thriving. The studio was buzzing with collaborations, the supper club had bookings well into the next quarter, and industry magazines had begun calling me a "visionary of immersive design."But behind the praise and publicity was a slow unraveling I couldn't quite grasp.One evening, I found myself standing in front of the full-length mirror in our bedroom, staring at my own reflection like it belonged to someone else. My skin looked tired, my ey

• IT'S A JOB, NOT A RELATIONSHIP, MR. BILLIONAIRE    CHAPTER 242: ASHES AND ALTARS

  ISLA'S POV If someone had asked me a year ago where I saw myself, I would have painted a version of my future that looked nothing like this.The reality I now lived in was stranger, messier, and far more beautiful than anything I could’ve imagined.I woke up that morning to the sound of birds tapping against our bedroom window and the faint scent of espresso drifting up from the kitchen. Nathan had clearly beaten me to the punch. I smiled and stretched beneath the linen sheets, still not fully used to the weight of the wedding ring on my finger.Marriage had given us a thousand small shifts—some welcome, some challenging. It was in the way we compromised on toothpaste brands and argued over duvet directions. It was in learning each other’s silences and finally understanding what wasn’t being said. And through it all, Nathan remained my peace in the chaos.That morning, though, something felt different.I padded downstairs to find Nathan leaning over the dining table, phone to his ear

• IT'S A JOB, NOT A RELATIONSHIP, MR. BILLIONAIRE    CHAPTER 241: THREADS OF TOMORROW

  ISLA'S POV The ring on my finger still felt unreal—like a delicate secret I hadn’t yet whispered to the world. Every time I looked down and saw it sparkling in the sunlight, I smiled without meaning to. Sometimes Nathan would catch me staring and chuckle, kissing the back of my hand like we were already married.We hadn’t told everyone yet. Judith knew, of course—she nearly tackled me the moment I broke the news. But the rest of the world? Still in the dark. We wanted to keep it ours for just a little longer, wrapped in warmth and quiet celebration.The mornings in our new shared apartment were soft and sacred. Coffee brewed in a French press. Jazz murmured from the Bluetooth speaker. I’d curl up on the velvet couch, blanket draped around my shoulders, sketchpad on my lap. The view from our floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Brooklyn rooftops. The world always seemed softer up here.But peace never lasted long.The morning after our rooftop engagement, I received an unexpected email