Isla Carter’s perfect life shattered the day she found her husband in bed with her best friend. Humiliated and discarded, she watched them marry just a month after her divorce, the world calling it true love while she was labeled a gold digger. Broken and betrayed, Isla vowed to rebuild her life—until Damien Blackwood walked in with a proposal she couldn’t refuse. Marry me. Help me destroy them. Cold, ruthless, and untouchable, Damien isn’t offering love—he’s offering revenge. Isla knows she should say no. But when revenge is on the table, how could she resist? What begins as a game of vengeance soon becomes a dangerous dance of power, passion, and betrayal. Lines blur, feelings deepen, and just when Isla thinks she’s finally won—she loses everything all over again. Three years later, Isla returns, armed with a secret that will change everything. This time, the war isn’t just about revenge. It’s about who really owns her heart.
View More“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 made her look up slowly at the wedding portrait of Nate and herself hanging above the alcove in the dining room where she was sitting. The photo captured a moment frozen in time— her in a simple ivory dress, him in a tailored suit, both smiling but with a distance in his eyes that only she seemed to notice now. "A marriage of convenience," some had called it, but she had always believed it could grow into something more. With a small sigh, Isla pushed away the thoughts. She was preparing a special dinner earlier before the rude interruption. Her dear husband would be home soon from his business trip to Wisconsin. She took a step toward the kitchen, but before she could reach the counter, her phone vibrated again. She rolled her eyes knowing it was yet another message from the first sender, already prepared to block the sender. But as she held out the phone, the next sight stopped her breath. It was a photo this time. A photo of Nate entering the previously mentioned vacation home. Isla blinked hard staring at the image. Something was grumbling in her stomach. “But.. but, he told me he was going to Wisconsin for a business trip.” “So why was he there?” A part of her brain tried to wave it off again as a misunderstanding but it did little to quell the doubts this time. A live photograph was way too much proof to overlook. With a deep breath, she turned off the stove, grabbed her car keys, and started hurrying towards the door. Less than an hour later, Isla pulled up at Belmont Drive. Her hands trembled as she saw Nate’s SUV was parked right outside. Her heart pounded. So he was really here? But why will Nate return without telling her? She made her way in and on getting to the first door, she took another deep breath and pushed it open. The sight that greeted her nearly gave her a heart attack. It nearly made her fall but she struggled and found balance. Nate was really there, and not just that, he was with a woman. Again, not just any woman but Vanessa Reed, her own best friend. Vanessa was perched on Nate’s lap, her head thrown back in laughter without the slightest concern that Isla was around. And like someone in a bad dream, Isla shivered and shouted their names. "Nate! Vanessa!" Her husband’s head snapped up first, his expression startled. But far from guilty. Vanessa, on the other hand, merely smirked and looked away, as if Isla was some random woman instead of the wife of the man she was flirting with, instead of her own best friend. The room was spinning. Isla pinched herself, suspecting it to be a dream. But the scene before her remained unchanged. It was painfully real. Nate exhaled finally, before rubbing his forehead and meeting her gaze. “We both know this marriage was never about love, Isla. It was…practical. For both of us.” Isla gasped, stepping back as if she had been slapped. " Practical? Is that all it has ever been to you?" The foods she cooked, the nights she stayed up waiting for him, the way she had tried to build a life with him—had it all meant nothing? While still staggering from that blow, Vanessa’s voice came next. "It’s time you knew the truth, honey. Nate and I love each other very much." To crown it up, Nate nodded to acknowledge it. Isla felt her face and eyes burning up. She swallowed hard and blinked, but tears did not come. She tried not to scream. She tried not to crumble. Instead, with great difficulty, she turned on unsteady legs and walked out of the room. She stepped into her car minutes later. And as her buttocks touched the seat, reality started to dawn on her slowly. Her marriage, which she had spent three years trying to nurture into something real, was over in the blink of an eye. *** One month after everything, Isla lay slanted and dejected on the bed of her room in her family house thinking about the soul-crushing betrayal over and again. Nate didn't even try to put up a fight to keep her. Not in the slightest. He had wanted out, and he got it without hesitation. A divorce. Had it always been a lie? Had she been blind all along? How long had they been seeing each other behind her back? Had she ever truly mattered to Nate? She stayed in that position for minutes, lost in the deafening silence of her thoughts until the sudden sound of the door made her look up abruptly. Standing in the doorway was her sister Sophia, her attitude hesitant, but without further delay, she blurted out. "Nate and Vanessa are getting married tomorrow.” Isla’s eyes almost tore apart, while the hair on her skin stood. “Tomo..what?” A whole marriage in just one month? Her lips opened, but no other words came out. Where does that ever happen? Her gaze slowly shifted away from her sister, a bitter realization making her face fall. They had been together all along. The words Vanessa had spoken that night resounded again. "Nate and I love each other very much." It hadn’t been a sudden affair. It had been premeditated. For the first time since that night, she felt something other than numbness. It was the bursting, vengeful force of rage and this time, she wouldn’t bury it.The Blackwood Global Headquarters stood like a monolith in the heart of the industrial city. But inside, precisely the boardroom was charged now with a tension that merged with the air like humidity before a bad storm. The hush wasn’t one of respect. It was one of disbelief. Sebastian and Alexander stood in front of everyone with rigid shoulders and tight jaws. Their suits were pristine, but their confidence was a direct contrast. What they had just delivered had been nothing but total bullshit…..no sane person would even call it a pitch. It had been a literal show of shame. Buzzwords were floating around with no strategy to ground them. Charts blinked with mismatched figures. The market projections they gave contradicted themselves within three slides. One graph had no axis labels. Sebastian even confused Yen for Euros at some point. It was a bloody mess. A rushed, patchy mess. And now, the waiting audience was left dumbfounded. No one clapped. No one moved. Jus
The boutique was quiet for once today. The late afternoon light floated through the high windows of Isla’s office. Inside the room, behind her desk, Isla was sitting upright, legs crossed, back straight, with Her phone in her hand.On the screen was a press photo of Damien, captured somewhere in Europe.Dark suit, serious face, surrounded by men in suits.He had been gone for over a week now. And now the ache his absence had left was becoming something deeper. Something almost physical.She was missing him.And no, It wasn’t about the routine they both shared. It was him. His voice. His eyes. His breath his touch, everything. The image of him on her screen made her throat tighten now.Her finger traced the line of his face for a second longer before she sighed, rising at once to move around the office, she started to gather a few things; keys, a file, and a silk scarf flung over the chair before proceeding further to turn the front sign to CLOSED and lock up the doors.~~~She got
Now, exactly one week later, the clock ticked past 6:15 p.m. on Saturday evening, and it was Robert Blackwood birthday. The mansion was alive with light and sound. The floors were shining and the chandeliers sparkled like fallen stars.In a decorated room near the east wing, Isla was standing with her frame adorned in an emerald gown as she gazed into a very tall mirror.Her hair was pinned at the back, her earrings long and delicate, and beside her was Damien himself.He was already in his black tux, sharp and immaculate, as he adjusted his cufflinks gently. But his eyes weren’t on himself, instead, they were on her, on Isla's reflection.There was something careful and watchful in his gaze like a storm holding back.He allowed a short pause to pass first, before leaning slightly toward her.“You’re overdressed.”Isla turned her head to glance at him, one brow raised recognizing the teasing tone. Her mouth tilted into a half-smile as she shrugged, “For what?” “For surviving my f
It was Sunday morning and the mansion was so quiet like it was used to being nowadays. No staff around. No footsteps, tray movements, or polite good mornings anywhere. Just plain silence, the kind that no longer felt empty but was rather pregnant with peace. Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Isla was standing barefoot with her hair still messy from sleep, Damien’s shirt hanging off her body loosely, as she sliced strawberries into a white ceramic bowl while humming absently to a tune. She had just picked up a knife when the sound behind made her turn her head slightly, eyes shifting toward the entrance. And to her quiet surprise, he was behind her. Damien, still looking sleepy with no shirt on, leaned against the doorframe with a kind of careless ease only he could wear. Isla arched one of her brows, now wearing a soft, amused smile. To think that she hadn't even heard him come in. “How long have you been standing over there Mr Ghost?” she asked playfully. Damien’s mou
It was a Wednesday, and the boardroom at Blackwood group was buzzing quietly with the sound of multiple people talking. Every now and then, you would hear the click of a laser pointer or papers being passed from one person to the next. Damien himself was sitting at the head of the long glass table wearing a sharp suit, though his collar was slightly loose. His eyes for now wear not saying much. Meanwhile, the rest of the table was full of executives men and women in their business best, all focused on the meeting going on. A large screen at the front of the room showed graphs and slides. “We’re expecting a twelve percent increase if the partnership holds through Q3,” one woman was saying, pointing to a bar graph with her laser. Damien barely reacted. All he could do was let out a vague grunt and looked up for just a second… before his eyes dropped back once more to the phone in his hand. The phone….and not the meeting was Damien's main point of focus right now.
Grandmother Hayes stormed Nate's residence like she had come for war. And indeed she had. She did not wait to be announced. Her heels struck the floor like the bell of judgment. Her face was taut with restrained fury, her lips pressed far too tight as she muttered furiously. “Of all the shameful creatures…That…that embarrassment of a woman has the nerve to still breathe the Hayes air?” On getting to the front door, she pushed aside the living room curtain with a dramatic swipe. And there she was. “Vanessa!” Sitting so daringly calm, like royalty, she was even sipping a glass of juice! Eyes steady. Like nothing had happened earlier that day. Not the lies. Not the scandal. Not the betrayal.Not the fake pregnancy, the false charges, not the heap of public disgrace she had tried to hang around Isla's neck like a noose. The sight of her was enough to turn one into a cold-blooded murderer. Grandmother Hayes stopped in her tracks. Her eyes were red and flaring. Her
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