LOGINDAMON'S POV:I moved Isabelle into my estate the very same afternoon.I did not give her room to second-guess the decision. I did not ask for a formal agreement or wait for a long discussion. I simply walked into her penthouse suite, packed her essential belongings into two solid travel bags, and told her in a clear voice that she was coming home with me right then. She did not argue with my decision. She did not try to put up a fight. She just looked up at me with those deep brown eyes, full of genuine trust and quiet understanding, and gave me a simple nod.I disliked seeing that subtle worry in her expression. It bothered me deeply that she had to feel uneasy simply because she was associated with my name. It bothered me that her peaceful routine was being disrupted because of the complex career paths I had chosen over the years. I disliked the fact that my history had brought unexpected complications into her world.But I was completely determined to ensure that no harm ever
ISABELLE'S POV:The text seemed to stand out on the display. We know where you live. We know who you are. The point of the message was crystal clear to me. They were keeping tabs on my daily routine. They knew my basic schedule, my work habits, and where I spent my free time. They had probably been watching the main entrance for days, maybe even longer, just waiting for the right moment to send a notice.I looked at the photograph one more time. The exact angle, the clear lighting, and the careful timing. Whoever took that photo knew exactly what they were doing. Whoever sent the text was patient and persistent. Whoever was behind this disruption was clearly serious about getting my attention.I pressed his speed dial button without waiting another second.Damon answered the line before the very first ring even finished."Isabelle," he said immediately, his tone sharp and alert. "Is everything okay over there? What is wrong?"I could hear the deep concern in his voice right away
ISABELLE'S POV:Three full days had passed since I left the safety of Damon's mansion, and I was still trying to process every single thing that had happened between us.I was back in the quiet comfort of my own penthouse, surrounded by the familiar details of my personal space. The warm colors on the walls, the cozy sofa, and the big stacks of books and papers cluttering my desk. It was supposed to feel inviting, peaceful, and completely safe. It was my home, after all.But I did not feel safe at all.I could not stop my mind from drifting back to Damon every few minutes. I kept thinking about the sweet night we had spent together in his room. I kept thinking about the honest details he had shared about his past military work. I kept thinking about the bitter rivals who wanted to ruin his company, and the sudden noise that now threatened to disrupt both of our lives.I had not shared a single detail with my parents yet.Clara, my executive assistant, had been remarkably helpfu
DAMON'S POV: "After a while, I stopped letting my emotions get involved in my work," I admitted. "I shut down my personal feelings completely during working hours. I functioned like a fine-tuned tool, an asset to be assigned to high-risk zones. I stopped dwelling on the background of the targets we were tracking. I just focused on finishing the job and keeping my squad alive." I squeezed her hand gently, making sure she knew I was being fully honest. "I finally retired from active military service after eight years," I explained. "I left with a good pension, a lot of tactical knowledge, and a very tired heart. From there, I used my savings to build a brand new private security firm from the ground up. I made smart business investments. I took calculated risks in the market. I signed major security deals with powerful corporate figures. Step by step, I built a successful company, became a major leader in the business world, and established a brand that could not be easily brushed
DAMON'S POV:I sat beside her on the edge of the bed, her soft hand held securely in mine, and I felt the full weight of my personal history pressing down on my shoulders.I had never shared the whole story with a single soul before. I had spent years keeping my past experiences completely hidden from the rest of the world, locking away the memories of the difficult missions, the harsh decisions I had to make under pressure, and the vast disruption I had left in my wake. I had built tall emotional walls around that part of my life, barriers that were originally meant to protect the people around me from getting caught in the crossfire of my career.But Isabelle deserved to hear the whole truth from my own mouth today. She deserved to know the exact details of the life I had led while we were apart. She deserved to know every single risk she was taking by choosing to stand right next to me."I have not lived a simple life, Isabelle," I said, keeping my voice low, steady, and gentl
DAMON'S POV:I walked quietly across the room to the tall window. The green gardens stretched out below me, neatly trimmed and bathed in the bright morning light. My private security guards were already moving along their regular morning paths, their eyes constantly scanning the tree line, their radios tuned to the main channel. I had already tripled the guard rotation on the property the exact night I brought Isabelle here. I had ordered new motion sensors, clearer outdoor lights, and extra perimeter alarms installed along the outer fence. But even with all those upgrades, my mind could not rest easy.I remembered the very first warning message I received three years ago, right after the Volkov case closed. I was sitting late at my desk inside the main office building when my private phone buzzed with an unlisted number. I picked up the call, and a cold voice on the line whispered a single sentence: You will pay for every single thing you did to us.I had ignored the call back the
The forgotten anniversaries. There had been three of those. Three times she had dressed up nice and made dinner and waited and waited and waited until finally getting a text that said "working late sorry" with no exclamation points, no emojis, no nothing.The cruel comments. Those were worse."You
Celestine Valancourt stood in the bathroom of her penthouse apartment, her bare feet cold against the imported marble floor, staring at a little plastic stick that had just completely and utterly rearranged her entire universe. There were two little pink lines staring back at her. Two little lines
KIER'S POV:I pour myself a drink and I sit in the dark and I wait for her to come back.She always comes back.But she does not come back.A week passes. Then another. The penthouse stays empty. My calls go straight to voicemail. My texts go unanswered. I send messages through her email, through s
She watched from the window as her father walked out to greet him.August Valancourt shook Lysander's hand with both of his, the way he did with people he truly respected, and he said something that made Lysander nod solemnly. Then her mother appeared, and Isabelle kissed Lysander on both cheeks, t







