Chapter 3: The Proposal of Revenge

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,” he replied curtly. “and you’re not getting kidnapped."

Isla blinked twice, her heart racing. “Boss? What boss? And why hadn’t he come himself? Why send someone to drag me out like a rogue.”

Her hands were trembling now as she reached into her purse for her phone. If there was ever a time to call Sophia, it was now.

But before she could even press the screen, the same strong hand shot out and snatched the device away.

"Hey! Give that back!"

Isla gasped as panic made her go red. What was going on?

This second show of force had confirmed everything she needed to know. This was never a reporter nor was it just some random errand for a boss. She was definitely being kidnapped.

And knowing the person who had the most reason to hate her and even get rid of her there was only one name that came to mind.

“Vanessa!”

So what is her plan now? Took her husband away from her and came for her, too? Did she hate her that much? Has her soul gone that dark?

Isla’s nails dug into her palms as she fought to keep her breathing steady. She couldn’t let fear take over. She had to think.

The back door of the car swung open, and with a swift push, they were both inside the back seat.

The man went on to murmur something to the driver, who gave a single nod. Then, without further hesitation, the car zoomed out of the church premises.

Moments later the car rolled into a heavily gated estate, which Isla could not recognize.

“I'm in trouble!” The realization was sinking in so much further now.

She was indeed in big trouble. The man beside her was still holding her wrist, his grip firm but indifferent. What were they planning to do with her? Maim her? Kill her?

She was sweating, every instinct screamed at her to make a run for it once the chance came.

And so she took the decision quietly; the moment this car stopped, she was going to do just that.

The engine stopped seconds later, and as soon as the man beside her released her wrist, Isla shoved the door open with all her strength, her heart vibrating as she leaped forward, legs burning with desperation.

"Stop her!"

The man’s sharp command followed like a thunderbolt, and soon, a group of strong arms seized her.

“Let me go!” she shouted, struggling against their hold. But it was no use. They ushered her into the house, their grip unrelenting.

~~~

The room they placed her in was lavish; velvet drapes, cream furnishing and all that.

They made her sit, adding that the boss would soon join her.

The waiting and the silence were unbearable. Isla’s teeth chattered as anxiety clawed at her chest. Who was this boss? What did he want from her?

The door cracked open and then footsteps followed. Isla's wide, frightened eyes lifted. What she saw next was a man in front of her.

Despite the fear in her veins, Isla couldn’t stop herself from appreciating his good looks and impressive physique.

Power radiated off him in cold waves. There was confidence in the way he carried himself, but there was something else. A surprising familiarity.

"Have I seen this face before?"

He stopped in front of her, his piercing gaze studying her as if she were a puzzle he intended to solve. Then he spoke, his voice deep and smooth. “Damien Blackwood.”

Isla sucked in the air. The name rang at once in her head. The very same Damien Blackwood?

That was the name of Nate’s biggest business rival. One of the wealthiest, most ruthless men in the country, if not the most.

No wonder the sense of familiarity she felt. But Why? Why would he bring her here like this?

Damien studied her, his gaze piercing, almost as if he was reading her thoughts. His tone is calm and commanding. "I will help you get your revenge."

Isla’s expression remained blank for a moment, then, without warning, a bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Revenge?" She shook her head. "And who told you I want a revenge?"

Damien didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

"Well, because I see how broken you are. You look miserable. And I've noticed this from watching you for the past two weeks."

Isla shuddered. Miserable? Broken? Was that what she is now?

She looked up quickly, ready to talk but he cut her off.

"Marry me." He said, his voice steady.

Isla's eyes widened. "What?"

"Why not?" He shrugged. "Am I not a better candidate than Nate?"

Isla bit her lip and looked away. He wasn’t wrong. Damien Blackwood was wealthier, more powerful, and far more respected than Nate could ever dream of being. But the question remains why?

"What do you have to gain from this?" She asked, her voice trembling.

Damien’s lips had a new curve to it now, but there was no warmth in it. "You.” He said simply.

"You being with me will help me get what I want."

"Me?” Isla's face furrowed. What could he possibly want?

Before she could ask, he reached into his pocket and placed a black business card on the table in front of her.

“Call me when you decide,” he said.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving her alone in the room, her mind spinning with questions and possibilities.