His Enemy, My Husband

“If you want to know the truth about your husband, come to this address. 1588 Belmont Drive. Now!" Isla stared at the anonymous message, the address mentioned was one she knew too well, it was the description of Hayes vacation home, not too far from the mansion she shared with her husband. Her expression remained neutral at first, but soon she could not help but scoff, waving the phone and shaking her head. “Fraudsters…Gossip phishers!” This must be a desperate attempt to stir trouble in her marriage and then put it on the news. Well, they could try such games with any other woman out there, but not her, Isla Hayes. “Not Nate," Isla murmured, shaking her head. "He would never." Three years of marriage had solidified her trust in him. He was a man of discipline, a man of his word. And, more importantly, the circumstances that had led to their unusual union made him owe her a debt that neither of them ever brought up but was deeply understood. The thought of that debt

Isla’s heart raced as the man tightened his grip on her wrist, dragging her out of the church hall. She glanced around nervously, her mind spinning. “What kind of reporter does this?” she thought, her panic rising. She considered yanking her hand away or even slapping him, but the fear of causing a scene stopped her. The last thing she needed was to draw attention to herself in a room full of people who had already witnessed her humiliation. As they stepped outside, the cool air hit her face, but it did little to calm her nerves. The man guided her toward a sleek black car parked in the church lot, a driver standing ready by the door. Isla’s stomach churned. “This isn’t a reporter,” she realized. Reporters were pushy, but they didn’t drag people out of weddings like criminals. "What are you doing?” She demanded, her voice trembling. “Do you want to kidnap me?" The man didn't respond, his expression unreadable as he opened the car door. "My boss wants to see you

The next morning met Isla at the well-furnished bedroom Damien had ushered her into the previous night. She blinked her eyes slowly on the bed, adjusting to the light glow as the events of the previous day came rushing back, she sat up abruptly, the weight of her decision passed down her chest like a stone. Yesterday, she had arrived here as Isla Carter, a betrayed and bitter divorcee desperate for revenge. Today, she woke up as Isla Blackwood, wife to perhaps the most ruthless and one of the wealthiest men in the city. A stranger. A billionaire whose motive she still couldn't grasp. The sound of the door opening snapped her out of her thoughts. She turned to see Damian standing in the doorway, his tall, imposing figure framed by the light of the room. His presence seemed to fill the room, the air growing heavier as his gaze met hers. Isla felt exposed and vulnerable and quietly pulled the sheet tighter around her. For a moment, Damien said nothing, he simply watched, his expre

Ever since Isla had signed a contract with Damien, she had become familiar with a new kind of freedom. A life that was the complete opposite of the one she shared with Nate. Back then, she had been a full-time housewife, but there had always been something to do. She would run the errands for his grandparents, do the shopping, oversee the house maintenance, and even scrub the damn floors herself. In Damien’s world, that life was nonexistent. Isla felt like a ghost in the big house with its numerous staff. There was even a time she had attempted to cook just to remind herself of the life she once lived but one of the maids, Amelia, had stopped her with a look so grave it was as though she had attempted to commit a crime. "Mr. Blackwood doesn’t like his wife working." It was perhaps after that particular encounter that the realization came upon her like a heavy cloak. If she stayed like this doing nothing, she would suffocate. The boredom would destroy her before the contract ev

The stylists were done and left a moment ago. Now Isla stood alone in her room gazing into her reflection in the mirror to see their finished work.They had transformed her into a goddess.The deep emerald necklace on her neck shone under the light. The glow of her face intimidated her. The dress they had selected was impeccable: a velvet gown whose off-shoulder cut exposed the smooth, shiny lines of her collarbones.“Great job,” She whispered.This is what being the wife of Damien Blackwood meant. It was nothing like before when she was just a glorified maid bound to the kitchen.Now she was someone stronger. Someone who belonged in this world of power and ruthless ambition. Someone who was not allowed to be vulnerable. But was she?She hummed, not allowing herself to pursue the thought further. “It was almost time for the party.”~~~Isla stepped out about five minutes later, moving with careful control, the sound of her heels steady against the glittery floor. Something switched