3

After dropping Isabel off, Issac was gone again before she even made it upstairs.

The car ride back to his office was just as cold as usual. His driver didn’t speak unless spoken to, and the only sound in the car was the quiet buzz of emails arriving on Isaac’s tablet.

He ignored most of them and instead, his thoughts drifted.

Most people didn’t understand how someone like him at just twenty-eight, could be sitting on a billion-dollar empire. But he’d earned it, every damn dollar.

Born to nothing and raised in a two-bedroom apartment with a mother who worked three jobs. He started coding at thirteen and by nineteen, he’d built a start-up in his dorm room. By twenty-two, he sold it to a global tech firm for eighty million.

And then he got greedy...in a smart way. Investments, real estate, patents, security software. He saw holes in the market and plugged them before anyone else could and the moment he made his first hundred million, he learned the secret to keeping it.

Trust no one especially not women, especially not Vera.

All he'd wanted was simple, a family after gathering so much wealth, his wife to take care of and their children but she'd had to fuck it up. But none of that mattered anymore, the woman who would be carrying his child was here now, he'd have his family, with no woman involved.

He sat down at his office desk, opening his laptop to skim morning headlines. It was supposed to be a normal day until her name popped up.

"Tech Billionaire’s Ex-Wife Vera Stuns at Gala with Newlywed Husband, Senator Callahan."

His chest went still. There she was, flashing her teeth on camera, draped in diamonds, holding the arm of the same man she once said was "a boring, balding idiot." The same man she married right after bleeding him dry in court.

He felt it again, that heavy pain in his stomach, the way his throat tightened just like it had on that day when he'd gotten the divorce papers from her.

He’d loved her.

God, he’d loved her. Not just the body, not just the smile, he let her see him when he was vulnerable. He told her about his childhood, his fears, his dreams and she sold him out, half of his properties, his privacy and his damn heart.

Isaac slammed his laptop shut.

“Cancel my afternoon meetings,” he muttered to his assistant as he stormed out of the office.

“Sir?”

“I said cancel them.”

*

He didn’t remember the drive to the bar or even walking in. He didn't care that it was a members-only place, or that the bartender flinched when he tossed his black card on the counter.

He just drank, whiskey, vodka, skotch, whatever was strong.

By the time he got home, it was almost midnight. His steps were slower and his head was loud. The hallways were dark, his place was too big and quiet.

He hated this house, everything about it reminded him of the life Vera helped him design, the one he’d thought was permanent.

He walked up the stairs. He wasn’t sure where he was going until he was already in front of the guest room.

No.

Isabel’s.

He opened the door and there she was, standing in the middle of the room, half-dressed. Her mouth was open in shock and her arms crossed over her chest.

But in his clouded mind… she looked like Vera. His Vera.

“Mr Dun?” she whispered.

He blinked.

The edges of her were blurry, her eyes looked like hers. Her voice, even the shape of her lips.

“Vera…” he said under his breath.

“What?” Isabel’s brows pulled together. “Who’s Vera?”

He took a step forward.

She didn’t move, she couldn’t. Her heart was slamming in her chest. He looked… broken, tired, not like the sharp billionaire who barked orders and wore thousand-dollar watches, he looked human.

“I don’t want to be alone,” he muttered.

“Okay,” she said slowly, inching closer to him, "you’re not.”

He looked down, then up again. His eyes were glassy, “I hate her,” he said.

Isabel felt her stomach twist. Whoever her was, she’d clearly shattered him. Without thinking, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

It felt awkward for a second, her chest barely covered, his body was still stiff but then all of a sudden, his arms went around her, not forcefully. Just… tight, like he needed something to hold onto or else he’d break.

She pulled back just a little, her hands still on his chest and then when she looked up to meet his eyes, he was already staring down at her with their faces barely inches apart.

His jaw was tight and his eyes locked on hers, slowly, he leaned forward and then he... kissed her.

She gasped into it. Her hands rose to his shirt, gripping the fabric. Her body was tense and confused but it didn’t move away.

He pulled back, just a breath away.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered but his eyes didn’t move and neither did hers.

Her body was on fire, her lips tingled since she could still feel his mouth closed over hers, "you’re drunk,” she whispered.

“Probably.”

Another second passed and then he kissed her again, this time it was harder and much more desperate.

She didn’t even have time to think, her mouth opened under his, her back hit the edge of the dresser, her fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer like she’d lost all logic.

His hands moved to her waist and all of her screamed that this was wrong.

And yet....

She couldn’t stop it.