Chapter 4: The Decision That Changes Everything

Two days had passed since Isla’s encounter with Damien, and his words still echoed in her mind like a haunting refrain.

“Marry me.”

The memory of his face—serious, unyielding—was etched into her thoughts, replaying over and over.

She paced her room, the business card he had given her clenched tightly in her hand. It felt like it was burning her palm, a constant reminder of the choice looming over her.

Was this madness? Or could we call this fate’s way of giving her the perfect opportunity for revenge?

How unlikely, how righteous, how suspiciously on time.

Could this really be her chance to make Nate and Vanessa pay for what they had done?

She grabbed a half-empty bottle of wine from her bedside table, twisted off the cap, and took a long, slow sip. The liquid soothed her throat but did little to calm the storm inside her. The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock, each second a reminder of the time slipping away.

What followed next was the sound of the door opening.

Isla did not bother to turn. She already knew who it was before even glancing up. It was her sister Sophia.

She walked slowly and tentatively into the room with a wary look in her eye, then finally she stopped to observe her sister with hands planted on her waist.

“You haven’t been eating, Issy,” she said gently, her voice laced with worry. “You look terrible.”

Isla’s gaze shifted toward her, looking absentminded in the way she lifted the wine bottle for another sip.

When she dropped the bottle and finally opened her mouth to speak, her words had nothing to do with what Sophia had just mentioned.

“If you suddenly had the chance to destroy someone who ruined you,” Isla began, her voice low and steady, “would you take it?”

Sophia stiffened, clearly caught off guard by the question. She frowned, her brow furrowing as she considered her response. “Well, I guess that depends,” she said slowly, her tone cautious. “Will it really make you happy?”

Isla didn’t answer. Not because she didn’t hear, she did. But her silence was because she genuinely didn’t know. But the thought of Nate and Vanessa living their perfect life while she remained broken and forgotten was unbearable.

It has been days since their grand wedding, and social media was on blaze with their honeymoon photos. Vanessa in her designer swimwear, Nate smiling in the Maldives, both of them attached like high school lovebirds, acting like they did not each have a past before now.

The headlines were even worse. "Vanessa Hayes: From Best Friend to the Love of His Life."

Isla scrolled through the images, her stomach churning with bitterness. The world had moved on, erasing her as if she had never existed. As if she had never been Nate’s wife, his savior, his everything.

Her grip tightened around the business card even more and it was her eyelids that were burning now, but she did not cry. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

“I’ll show you all,” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling with resolve.

Later that night, Isla stood by her room’s rear window.

From there she could observe the streets below; multiple cars racing to and fro like fireflies, late-night pedestrians bearing torches unaware of the woman standing motionless in the shadows above them.

But Isla wasn’t watching them.

Her gaze was fixed further ahead; she was rather busy picturing Nate and Vanessa existing in the space she called her home, living their happily-ever-after life while she remained here, trapped between counting her loss and a game-changing choice she was yet to make.

Her fingers flexed around the business card. Then, suddenly as if something inside her finally snapped, she moved. She snatched her phone from the table, fingers steady as they started to dial the number embossed in gold on the card.

Her heart pounded with each ring, but her hand didn’t tremble.

The line barely rang once before it was answered.

"I was expecting you."

That familiar baritone sounded. The same baritone voice that had thrown her world off balance two days ago.

Isla swallowed, the air in her apartment suddenly felt heavier. She couldn’t risk thinking now. Couldn’t allow herself the luxury of doubt. So before he could speak further, she forced out the three words at once.

"I’m in."

At the other end, silence ensued. Her breathing was so much faster now as she waited for his response with quiet anxiety. Then, what she heard next was a chuckle.

It was low, brief before giving way to his voice again.

"Good," Damien said with a tone devoid of surprise. "Welcome to the game."

~~~

The next morning, Isla arrived again at the heavily guarded estate those men had brought her to two days ago… Damien's abode.

But this time around, she wasn't dragged, she was here on her own accord.

And It wasn’t nerves that made her spine stiff, It was acceptance. She had chosen this path voluntarily. Now, there was no turning back.

The moment she stepped inside the guestroom one of the guards had led her to where Damien was already waiting.

Without a word, he led her toward another small room with a dark marble table at the center, where a single document lay open and waiting with a pen dividing it in two.

Beside it was a script outlining the terms of their arrangement: a three-year marriage contract, devoid of emotions or expectations.

Isla stepped forward, her eyes scanning the words. The reality of what she was about to do settled over her like a heavy blanket. This wasn’t a union born of love or even companionship. It was a transaction, a calculated move designed for one purpose—revenge.

Damien watched her blankly, stroking his chin calmly as he waited for her to make the move. His presence was overwhelming.

For a brief moment, she hesitated. Was this really what she wanted? Was she willing to sacrifice her future for the chance to destroy Nate and Vanessa?

But then, just as it had the night before, the urge surged within her. She reached for the pen, her hand steady as she signed her name at the bottom of the page. The ink dried quickly, sealing her fate.

When she looked up, Damien’s lips curved into that familiar, faint smile. He picked up the pen and set it aside, his voice calm but commanding.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Blackwood,” he said, his tone devoid of warmth. “We’re now in business.”