Alexander’s POVI stagger through the front door, my head spinning and my chest tight with the weight of today. Each step feels heavier, dragging me deeper into the pit of everything I’ve uncovered.The liquor burns in my veins, but nothing numbs the sting of realizing that Claire—Isabel’s lookalike—is indeed the mother of those kids. And Roy is their father. The pain feels like a weight crushing my chest, sharper than anything I’ve felt in years.I push through the double doors, ignoring the maid’s greeting as I stumble past them, not even glancing up.My feet drag me to my room, where I collapse onto the bed. The mattress bounces under me as I struggle to pull my tie off, the fabric tangling in my drunken hands.Just then, the door swings open, and Cynthia storms in, her face flushed with anger.“Where have you been all day?” Her voice cuts through the alcohol fog clouding my mind, and I lift my head, the dull throb behind my eyes intensifying.“I don’t have time for this drama right
Cynthia’s POVI wake up with a satisfied smile, thinking maybe I’ve been overreacting for nothing. Alexander is gradually warming up to me. Last night was proof—he slept with me. I can hardly contain the thrill that rushes through me; this is what I’ve been waiting for, and it’s finally happening. Once again, I feel like I have won without having to do much. Claire’s resemblance to Isabel, her presence, it means nothing now. She has no place between us.I turn over to face Alexander, sliding closer as I say, “Happy you’re finally letting me in.” But his response stops me cold. I feel my fingers clutch at the fabric of my dress, my jaw tightening. What does that mean? Did he just sleep with me for the sake of it? No, he wouldn’t do that. He loves me—I just have to make him realize it. I force a sweet smile, pretending not to notice the sting of his words, and give him a casual reply before I slip out of the room. As soon as I close the door to my own room, fury roars to life insi
Isabel’s POVI look down at the prototype building plan beside my office window, tracing my fingers over its edges as the door opens quietly behind me. I know it’s her—I don’t need to turn around.Instead, I keep my focus on the plans, allowing her to take in the silence as she makes her entrance. “Wow, is this really how you welcome people to your office?” Cynthia finally breaks the stillness, letting out a mocking sigh.She strides over, dropping her bag onto the chair before settling in like she owns the place. “You don’t even talk to them? Just ignore them?” A smile tugs at my lips as I turn to her. “Not for someone I wasn’t exactly expecting,” I reply smoothly, watching her reaction. “Coffee?” I ask, reaching over to start the machine. She clicks her tongue and gives a slow, deliberate nod, her chin tilting just slightly, as if she’s doing me a favor.The coffee machine hums as I press down, filling the cup with rich, dark coffee, and I place it in front of her before taking m
Alexander’s POVI straighten the cuffs of my crisp white shirt, the soft cotton fabric smooth beneath my fingers. The charcoal-gray suit I’ve chosen for today is tailored to perfection, hugging my frame with precision. Picking up a navy-blue tie, I step in front of the mirror. The morning light filters through the blinds, casting a sharp gleam on the polished surface.As I lift the tie to my collar and begin to knot it, her face appears. Her eyes, her soft yet unyielding gaze, lock onto mine through the reflection. For a moment, it feels as though Claire Montgomery herself is staring back at me, her expression unreadable but haunting. My breath hitches.Isabel.No. I force myself to focus on the tie. My hands falter as I mutter, “I think I might have been so foolish in believing too much.” I pull the knot tighter. “This woman might look like Isabel, but she’s far from being her.” My jaw clenches as I release a heavy sigh, smoothing the tie against my chest.I make a decision then, reso
Isabel’s POVI watch Cynthia’s retreating figure, her confident stride infuriating me further as her words echo in my mind. My hands clench at my sides, the anger rising like a tide. I had kept my composure during the conversation, but now, alone with my thoughts, the fury simmers dangerously close to boiling over.Her smugness lingers, like a bitter aftertaste. I replay the conversation in my mind, each word of hers fueling my anger further. My jaw tightens, my thoughts spiraling.“Ma’am?” Christine’s soft voice pulls me from my thoughts. I glance sideways to see her watching me patiently, her sharp eyes catching the tension radiating from me. She says nothing, but I can tell she’s waiting for a cue.I exhale deeply, forcing myself to let go of the anger, at least outwardly. “Let’s go,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm inside.Christine follows as I step out of my office, my heels clicking against the polished floors with an authoritative rhythm. The sound steadies me, grounds
Alexander’s POVThe room is charged with an undercurrent of tension as Claire takes her seat, her movements deliberate, measured. I adjust the cuffs of my suit, smoothing down the lapel with a practiced motion. The tailored fabric clings to me perfectly, but even its precision doesn’t ease the tightening in my chest. I pick up the paper in front of me, forcing myself to focus as the meeting begins.Her gaze catches mine, just for a moment. My jaw tightens lightly—lightly enough to go unnoticed. I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing the effect she has on me.As the presentation starts, I keep my focus on the slides being displayed, the voices of my team droning on in the background. Yet, out of the corner of my eye, I see her. She’s glancing at me, her fingers pressing too hard on the fabric swatches in her hand. What’s going through her head? Is she testing me? Waiting for me to falter?Does she think I’ll be affected by her anymore? I scoff inwardly. Definitely not. She’s not t
Isabel’s POVThe steady click of my heels echoes down the hallway as I make my way out of the boardroom. Their shocked faces flash through my mind, and I can’t help the soft smile that plays on my lips. They’re not ready for what’s coming their way. Not even close.But just as I’m savoring the moment, I stop in my tracks. Standing a few feet ahead is Roy, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his relaxed demeanor almost unnerving. The calmness flashing across his face contrasts sharply with the tense air I just left behind.For a second, I think I’m imagining things. Roy? Here? My gaze darts briefly to Christine, who glances between him and me with a curious look, her eyes flicking over my expression as if trying to gauge my reaction.My shock must be evident because Roy chuckles softly, his deep voice breaking through my thoughts as he takes a deliberate step closer, the soft click of his polished shoes filling the air. He stops right in front of me, still smiling, and says, “Hi.” H
Alexander’s POVI try to pull my gaze away, but my eyes are glued to them, my mind screaming at me to look anywhere but there. But I can’t. I fight it, wrestle with the urge to turn my head, but my gaze lingers on Roy and Claire, still hovering too close. Susan and the others must sense the tension radiating off me, but Susan, ever the professional, stays quiet. I can feel her eyes darting to me, then back to them, probably trying to figure out what’s eating at me. But it’s not something I can explain.Seeing Roy standing so close to Claire, his face mere inches from hers, stings more than I want to admit. For a brief moment, something stirs in me—something sharp and foreign. It’s jealousy. I hate the feeling. How could I possibly be jealous? I don’t even know this woman, not really. She’s not Isabel. I know that. My heart shouldn’t be reacting to her like this, but it clenches anyway, traitorous and unrelenting. I refuse to let it happen again. Falling for someone who looks like her
Alexander’s POVI’m gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles are pale. Buildings blur past my window as I drive, but my mind is stuck on Collins’ words—each one echoing like a slow, burning fuse.It’s Sabrina. Your mother.Could she have really done it?My jaw clenches as I press harder on the gas. The engine hums louder beneath me, but it doesn’t drown out the flood of thoughts crashing in my head.She never wanted me to marry Isabel. From the very beginning, my mother made it painfully clear—Isabel wasn’t good enough, not for me, not for our family. She despised everything about her. Her upbringing. Her background. The fact that she was poor. A nobody. Someone who didn’t fit into our world.She never forgave me for choosing Isabel anyway.And then I remember—that night.We were arguing in her study room. She’d been furious about how useless Isabel was during a family crisis—said she just stood there, quiet, offering nothing of value. That she had no strength, no presence,
Collins’ POVI look up, raising an eyebrow as I meet Alexander’s gaze. “So… you want me to get details on this vehicle?” I ask, tapping the paper he just slid across my desk, my tone dry, disbelieving.Alexander shifts his weight from one foot to the other, slowly nodding. But it’s the kind of nod that screams reluctance—like he still can’t believe the words are coming from his own mouth.I scoff. “You came back after storming out last time, pissed at the world, and now you want me to run a plate number on a bike?” I let the silence hang, thick and heavy, watching him squirm as he avoids saying what we both know he came here for.He doesn’t answer.Instead, he pinches the bridge of his nose, and that’s when I know—he’s wrestling with it. The discomfort is all over his face. I’ve known Alexander long enough to recognize when something’s eating him from the inside.I sigh, sinking deeper into my seat, locking my fingers together. “What’s your connection with this plate number?” I ask, s
Cynthia’s POVI pace the room, my heels clicking sharply against the marble floor, every step slicing through the heavy, choking silence.My mind won’t stop spinning, crashing back to Alexander’s words from last night. His tone, his stubbornness, the way he said he was going to start digging into the past. Into the truth.Panic twists inside me.If he really starts poking around, he will find it.He will find me.How I carefully, ruthlessly created a rift between him and Isabel.How I built lie upon lie, wound after wound, all to keep them apart forever.No.I shake my head fiercely, biting down hard on my thumbnail, pacing faster.That can’t happen.For years, I’ve endured—fought—to keep the truth buried. I’ve planted doubts, fueled betrayals, sowed distrust like a second skin between them.And yet—Why does fate keep spinning the damn wheel back to them?No matter how far apart I tear them, no matter how well I bury the past, something—something—always shoves them back toward each o
Isabel’s POV“Claire…” My mother’s voice breaks, hoarse with grief. “How could you have been going through all of this alone?” Her eyes are wide with pain, hands trembling as they reach toward me but stop halfway. “Countless times, Claire. Countless times you were attacked, and you just… you just hid it from me?”Tears spill freely down her cheeks as she steps closer, her voice rising into a sharp, helpless wail. “How did you think I would feel as your mother—knowing you’ve been living through all this, silently bleeding, and I never knew? And now… now I find out you’d planned to use yourself as bait at the event?” She clutches her chest like her heart might tear in two. “Why, Claire? Why didn’t you tell me?”I snap—not out of anger, but from the pressure of everything I’ve been holding in.“Because I was scared, Mom!” I cry, my voice raw and cracking. “Scared of seeing you this way. Scared that I’d shatter you.”Her breathing falters, but I push through the lump in my throat.“I know
Alexander’s POVThe door clicks open as I step inside the house with Mother.The soft tune of a jazz song floats through the living room, slow and airy like the aftermath of a toast. Cynthia dances alone—wine in hand, hair loosely pinned, her dress glinting in the light as if she’s celebrating something only she knows.My jaw clenches.I walk straight to the speaker and turn off the music.She turns slowly, surprised, raising her glass mid-air like she just noticed us.“Oh… you’re back?” she says lightly, her tone breezy. “The event’s already over?”Something in her voice irks me. I don’t miss the sly curiosity behind her words.I stare at her. My mind replays the scene—the flash of her slipping out through the hotel hallway, the way she avoided every gaze.I know what I saw.“Where were you today, Cynthia?” I ask, voice sharp.She scoffs, laughing without humor.“Impossible. Where else would I be?”Lies. I can see it in the flicker of her eyes.If you lie to me now, Cynthia, I’ll tak
Isabel’s POVI’m still frozen—still in shock—barely able to feel my own breath, much less the dull ache spreading across my chest. The only thing louder than the sound of my pulse is the voice that suddenly rips through the air.“Is this the plan you were talking about? I thought your plan was to avenge Cynthia for all she’s done. How come you had Roy involved in it too?”The voice is raw. Strained. Like it clawed its way up from a place of pain. Each word crashes into me like thunder, louder as the footsteps draw closer. And then… we all turn.Aria.Her red-rimmed eyes land on me with blistering intensity. Her face is crimson, cheeks flushed with rage, and her fists are clenched tight by her sides like she’s fighting every urge to lash out. Her chest heaves, her shoulders rigid with emotion.The silence becomes deafening. Every head turns as she walks forward—past the nurses, past the waiting chairs—right into the center of the tension. No one moves. No one speaks. We just watch, hel
Alexander’s POVI’m still trying to wrap my head around it.Isabel knew.All this time… she knew.I sit there, breathing like I’ve been sprinting for miles, my hands pressed against my face, dragging down slowly as if doing so could pull the disbelief away with them. My heart pounds, not from exertion, but from the weight of realization.I never imagined—never even considered—that she’d found out about what happened between me and Cynthia at the Euphoria Club.What I tried so damn hard to hide… what I let destroy everything good I had… she knew?From the start?I sacrificed our marriage to keep that night buried, thinking if I only held on to the part where she cheated on me, maybe it would be enough to protect my image.Maybe—just maybe—if she never found out about my mistake too, I could live with it.I wasn’t trying to shield her from the truth… I just didn’t want her to see me differently.I wanted to stay the one who was wronged. The one who had a reason to let go.But all this w
Isabel’s POVThe sound splits the air like thunder.But it doesn’t hit me.I don’t even see it happen—just feel the sudden force of Roy’s body slamming into mine, shoving me aside in one sharp, protective motion.Then comes the crack of bone, the dull thud of impact, and the sickening sound of him crashing to the floor.“No… no, no—” I gasp, stumbling back as my eyes drop to him.He’s on the ground. Blood.So much blood.Spilling out from the side of his torso, soaking through his shirt and pooling beneath him like a dark, blooming flower. My ears ring, my hands tremble as I drop to my knees beside him, unable to breathe, unable to think.“Roy!” I cry, crawling toward him, grabbing his shoulders. “Roy!”The world around me explodes with chaos. Screams. Footsteps. The shriek of people rushing in from the hall. My guards storm out, guns drawn, shouting orders, some flanking me immediately, while others bolt after the motorcycles tearing away through the entrance, engines roaring into th
Isabel’s POVI’ve been standing in this corner for a while now. My eyes keep scanning the space—back and forth, every shadow, every movement—but still, nothing. No sign. No trace. Not even a whisper of someone watching. I bite down hard on my bottom lip, frustration swirling inside me.But how’s that even possible?If someone’s truly been watching my every move—dropping letters like the last one, you can’t get away from me—then they should know I’m here. Alone. Waiting. Isn’t that the perfect opportunity? Isn’t this exactly what they’ve been waiting for?Damn it.This was supposed to be it—the night I catch whoever it is. The night I uncover every damn truth that’s been clawing at my peace for months. But now… silence.I’m so lost in my head that I don’t notice the hand until it lands on my shoulder.My heart sinks.My breath catches as I whirl around, bracing for a blow—only to find Christine’s wide eyes staring at me.“Ma’am,” she says quickly, her voice tight with concern. “Are you