CHAPTER 2.

ISLA'S POV

The morning sun filtered through my bedroom curtains, but I couldn't bring myself to face it.

I hadn’t told my mother about losing my job yet. When she had called me early this morning, her voice bright with the bustling sounds of her restaurant kitchen in the background, the truth choked me. Instead, I lied. I told her the company had granted me a sudden, well-deserved free day. She had cheered, insisting I stay in bed and rest.

So, I did. I slept in, buried beneath my duvet, trying to outrun the crushing weight of reality. For six years, my identity had been anchored to the Blackthorne Group. Now, I was adrift.

By the late afternoon, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was Thea.

"Get out of bed, Harlow," her voice commanded gently the moment I answered. "I’m not letting you wallow in a dark room. Meet me at The Glasshouse restaurant in an hour. No excuses. Let me cheer you up."

I sighed, staring at the ceiling, but I knew she was right. Sitting in isolation was only making the panic grow. I forced myself up, showered, and pulled on a simple emerald-green dress. I didn’t bother with heavy makeup, just a swipe of lip balm, before heading out into the cool London evening.

When I arrived at The Glasshouse, the hostess smiled warmly and led me toward a private dining alcove at the back. As the heavy velvet curtains were pulled open, I froze in absolute shock.

"Surprise!"

The room was filled with soft candlelight and floating balloons. Standing there, holding a small cake with lit candles, was my mother. Beside her, grinning from ear to ear, was Thea.

My breath caught in my throat. In the chaotic aftermath of being fired, I had completely forgotten. Today was my twenty-third birthday.

"You didn't think we'd let you forget, did you?" Thea laughed, stepping forward to pull me into a tight hug.

My mother walked over carefully, her eyes crinkling with the pure, unconditional love that had sustained me my entire life. "Make a wish, my beautiful girl," she whispered.

Looking at the two of them, the heavy, suffocating cloud that had hung over me since yesterday morning instantly lifted. A wave of profound emotion washed over me, stinging the backs of my eyes. I didn't care about the Blackthorne Group in this moment. I didn't care about Victor's cruelty. I had them.

I closed my eyes, blew out the candles, and let the warmth of their love light up my mood. For the next hour, the grief of my ruined career vanished. We laughed, ate, and for a brief moment, I felt genuinely happy.

We were still in the middle of our mini-party, laughing over a childhood story my mother was retelling, when the atmosphere in the room shifted.

The velvet curtain parted again.

I turned, expecting a waiter, but my heart skipped a beat when I saw Julian walking toward our table. He was dressed impeccably in a dark suit, holding a massive, breathtaking bouquet of crimson roses.

"Julian?" I murmured, standing up. "What are you doing here?"

"Thea tipped me off," he said, his voice smooth and steady. He offered me a warm, gentle smile that had become so familiar over the last six years. "I couldn't let your birthday pass without seeing you, Isla."

Before I could properly thank him, Julian’s expression turned deeply serious. He stepped closer, closing the distance between us, and then, shock rippled through me as he dropped down onto one knee.

My mother gasped behind me. Thea went entirely still.

Julian looked up at me, his dark eyes brimming with a carefully crafted intensity. He held the roses up, his voice ringing clear in the quiet alcove. "Isla, I’ve watched you wait, and I’ve watched you hurt for far too long. You deserve someone who stays. Someone who builds a life with you, right here. I love you. I want to protect you, and I want to give you the world. Will you do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend? Will you choose me?"

My mind went completely blank. I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

I knew Julian liked me—I had suspected it for a long time, and his steady presence had been my only comfort in the dark. But this? A formal confession, right here, right now? My thoughts raced in a chaotic circle. Should I say yes? Dare was gone. He had forgotten me. He hadn't written back to a single letter in six long years. Julian was here. Julian was real. He was the safe choice, the life I was meant to accept.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I forced myself to let go of the ghost of my first love. I opened my mouth, the word 'Yes' forming on the tip of my tongue, ready to step into a secure future.

Then, the heavy wooden doors of the main restaurant area banged open.

The sound was sharp, cutting through the ambient noise of the room. Instinctively, my eyes darted past Julian’s shoulder, looking out through the parted velvet curtains toward the entrance.

The air left my lungs completely. The world fractured.

Walking into the restaurant was the man who had stolen my heart so many years ago, the one who had left me in absolute ruin.

Dare.

He was taller, his shoulders broader, his boyish charm replaced by a lethal, commanding masculinity that seemed to draw the very oxygen out of the room. His jaw was set in a rigid, aristocratic line, and his dark eyes were colder than ice. He looked powerful, wealthy, and entirely untouchable.

But he wasn't alone.

Clinging tightly to his arm, her fingers wrapped possessively around his sleeve, was Serena Ashworth. My greatest rival. The girl who had made my college years a living hell. The bully Dare had once fiercely protected me from. She was radiant, dressed in designer silk, her head held high with a smug, triumphant satisfaction.

As if feeling the intensity of my gaze, Dare’s cold eyes swept across the room.

Time seemed to slow to a torturous crawl. His eyes locked onto mine. There was no warmth in his gaze, no recognition of the girl he had held in the rain by the greenhouse. There was only a devastating, piercing malice. He looked down at Julian, who was still kneeling at my feet, and then back up to my face. His lip curled into a subtle, mocking sneer.

Six years of waiting. Six years of agony. And there he stood, alive, returned… and holding the hand of the woman who had tried to destroy me.

My knees trembled. The ring of roses in Julian's hands blurred. The promise Dare had made me—the vow that I would be the only one in his heart—shattered into a thousand jagged pieces right before my eyes.

So this was why, I was laid off, yesterday by Victor. Because Dare was coming back, and the Blackthorne do not want me near their son again.