Five years ago, struggling law student Isla Monroe fell in love with a charming stranger during a whirlwind summer in Tuscany. He was kind, generous, and intensely private. When she discovered she was pregnant, he was already gone—and she had no way of finding him. What she didn’t know was that he was Lucien Wolfe, a reclusive tech billionaire hiding from the world after a public betrayal. Now, their worlds collide when Lucien acquires the struggling startup where Isla works. He’s no longer the soft-spoken man she once knew—he’s ruthless, guarded, and intent on control. But the moment he sees her, something shifts. He doesn’t remember her name, but he remembers her—and Isla knows it’s only a matter of time before he discovers the truth about the little boy with his eyes.
Lihat lebih banyakIsla’s POV
They say ghosts don’t exist, but they’ve never been blindsided by one in a designer suit and Italian leather shoes. I was running late for the Monday morning meeting—half-asleep, clutching my lukewarm coffee, and praying no one noticed the stain on my blouse from Leo’s jelly toast attack. I slid into my chair just as our CEO, Mike, cleared his throat. “We have a new majority shareholder,” he began, eyes darting nervously around the boardroom. “He’ll be overseeing operations personally. Please give a warm welcome to—” The door opened. I looked up. And my heart stopped. He stepped into the room like he owned it—which, technically, he now did. Lucien Wolfe. Only I didn’t know him as that. Not five years ago. Back then, I only knew him as Luke—the man who kissed me under a Tuscan sunset, who made me laugh like I hadn’t in years, who vanished without warning and took my heart with him. The same man who had no idea he left me with something far more permanent than heartbreak. I gripped the edge of the conference table, my nails biting into the wood. He looked different—taller somehow, broader, sharper around the edges. His dark hair was slicked back now, his jaw tighter, his expression like chiseled ice. But his eyes. God, those eyes. Grey. Cold. Calculating. And still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. He scanned the room with all the warmth of a panther selecting prey. And then—he saw me. Our eyes locked. A flicker of something crossed his face—confusion, maybe? Recognition? But it vanished before I could name it. “Thank you, Mike,” Lucien said smoothly, his voice deeper than I remembered. “I’m not here to shake things up… yet. I’m just observing. Continue.” He sat at the head of the table, precisely where he belonged. Alpha. Untouchable. I couldn’t breathe. My mind screamed. Does he remember me? But he didn’t say a word. Didn’t falter. Didn’t even blink. I forced myself to sit still through the rest of the meeting, though I heard none of it. The walls felt like they were closing in. The room was too hot, too bright. Or maybe that was just my panic setting in. The moment Mike dismissed us, I bolted—too fast, too obvious, but I didn’t care. I made it to the hallway, half-jogging toward the elevator, willing the doors to open faster. “Isla.” I froze. His voice was behind me—quiet, commanding, impossible to ignore. Slowly, I turned. Lucien stood just a few feet away, hands in his pockets, watching me like he was trying to place a dream from a lifetime ago. “You look… familiar,” he said, head tilting slightly. “Have we met?” I swallowed. “I—I don’t think so.” He studied me longer, and I felt like I was being dissected under a microscope. “You sure?” “Positive,” I lied. He stepped closer. Not threatening. Not unkind. Just… intense. “Hmm. Maybe I’m mistaken.” You are. Please be mistaken. Please walk away. But he didn’t. “What’s your name?” I hesitated. “Isla. Isla Monroe.” He said it quietly, testing the sound of it on his tongue. “Isla.” The elevator chimed. I turned and stepped inside, desperate for escape. As the doors closed, I met his gaze one last time. Those eyes. That face. That past I’d buried deep. And the secret I had never told a soul. I made it to the bathroom before I broke. Locking myself in the furthest stall, I sat down and pressed a hand to my mouth to muffle the sob that escaped. Lucien Wolfe. Billionaire. CEO. Tech titan. My son’s father. How was this happening? Five years. I’d told myself a thousand times I would never see him again. That what we had was just a summer illusion. That he probably wasn’t even real. But now he was here. Flesh and blood. Standing in my office. And I had a son with his eyes and no idea how to fix this. That night, I tucked Leo into bed and sat beside him as he drifted to sleep. His tiny hand clutched my fingers, his lashes long and dark against his cheeks. He was the only good thing that had come from that heartbreak. He didn’t know who his father was. I’d never spoken his name. How could I, when I didn’t know who Lucien Wolfe really was until recently—until his face started popping up in Forbes articles and tech magazines? I’d thought about reaching out. A hundred times. A thousand. But how do you explain to the richest man in the country that you had his child and never told him? And how do you admit that you were scared? That you didn’t know if he’d want the baby, or hate you for keeping it? Now the choice was being ripped from my hands. He was here. And the past I’d worked so hard to bury was clawing its way to the surface.Lucien The city never really slept, but from the 47th floor of Wolfe Holdings, it at least seemed like it did. Manhattan’s lights glittered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my private office—cold, clean, distant. The kind of view meant to inspire power. Tonight, it felt like a war map. I stood with my back to the room, fingers clutched around a glass of bourbon I hadn’t touched. My mind wasn’t on the deal closing in Tokyo or the last-minute shakeup on the board after my announcement about Isla and Leo. It was on the message she forwarded. Damon’s threat. It hadn’t been vague. It hadn’t been cautious. It had been direct and deliberate. “You think he can protect you now? He’s just a distraction. I’m coming for what’s mine.” Mine. The audacity of it made my jaw tighten, my fingers curl around the glass until the cut crystal left an imprint in my palm. I hadn’t wanted to go nuclear. I’d hoped that by stepping into the light with Isla and Leo, Damon would back off—understandi
Isla The scent of Lucien’s cologne lingered long after he left—a blend of spice and midnight, comfort and danger. I stood by the window in my apartment, arms wrapped around myself, watching the city lights shimmer in the darkness like a million secrets just waiting to be exposed. Behind me, Leo was asleep, his small frame cocooned in the covers, Lucien’s tiger plushie clutched tightly in his arms. I should have felt safe. I should have felt comforted. But all I felt was the low thrum of dread under my skin. Damon had been at Leo’s school. Not even subtle about it. Just… present. Watching. Reminding me that he still could. I exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the windowsill. I hadn’t expected Lucien to come tonight. Not after the day we’d had. The press storm, the boardroom meetings I wasn’t part of but could feel the ripple effects of, the eyes everywhere now watching me—not just because I was once the billionaire’s mistress, but because I was the woman he’d chosen to claim pu
Lucien The boardroom of Wolfe International was the height of glass and steel elegance, perched atop the sixty-first floor like a throne room built for war. I stood at the head of the long obsidian table, staring out at the skyline of Paris bathed in the glow of a late afternoon sun. My reflection in the glass was sharp, composed, impenetrable. But beneath the tailored suit and cufflinks, tension simmered. “Your press conference changed the game, Lucien,” Soraya said from her seat beside me, tapping a crimson fingernail against a tablet. “The public is on your side now. You’ve rebranded yourself overnight—from ruthless billionaire to protective father. Women are swooning. Men are backing off. The sympathy factor? Off the charts.” “It wasn’t for the public,” I muttered, though I knew it played both ways. “It was for Leo. For Isla.” I turned from the window and took my seat, steepling my fingers as the rest of the team filed in. Attorneys. PR strategists. My private investigator. Ev
Isla The echo of Lucien’s press conference still rippled through every facet of my world. I hadn’t left the penthouse since the broadcast aired, afraid of what the outside world might look like now that my most guarded truth had become a headline. Lucien had claimed us—me and Leo—with a billionaire’s flair and a father’s raw conviction. The entire world now knew I was the woman he’d lost once and wouldn’t lose again. And Leo? Leo was no longer a secret. He was Lucien Wolfe’s heir. But with exposure came fear. I sat on the edge of the chaise lounge in the sun-drenched sitting room, clutching my phone like it was a lifeline. My inbox was flooded. Journalists, talk show producers, stylists, PR agents—even distant relatives I hadn’t spoken to in years. They all wanted a piece of the story. A piece of us. Leo was blissfully unaware of the chaos unfolding. He was down the hallway with Sophia, his favorite nanny, giggling as she read him a picture book for the fifth time. The purity of h
Isla The first thing I noticed when I stepped out of the town car was the flash of cameras. Even before the media found me, I felt their presence like the pressure of a storm rolling in—hot, stifling, inevitable. Lucien had warned me. “There’s no going back,” he’d said last night, his voice velvet-soft as he brushed a strand of hair from my face. “When I go public with Leo, everything changes.” He wasn’t wrong. Now I stood at the courthouse steps, my fingers curled around the leather strap of my handbag like it could anchor me through the whirlwind ahead. Lucien stood beside me, immaculately dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his expression calm but unreadable. His hand brushed the small of my back—reassuring, possessive, and entirely too grounding. Across the street, a few paparazzi shouted our names. “Lucien! Isla! Is that your child?” “Is this the real reason behind the Renwick acquisition?” “Isla, how long have you been hiding the baby?” I didn’t flinch, but my spine s
Isla I watched the sunlight dance on the polished marble floors of Lucien’s penthouse, my reflection faintly staring back at me through the massive windows overlooking Manhattan. It should have felt luxurious, comforting even—but all I could feel was the tight knot in my stomach. The world had shifted. Again. First, Lucien’s bold press conference. Then Damon’s move for custody. And now… the waiting. The silence before the next storm. Leo was in the playroom down the hall, laughing softly with Marie, the nanny Lucien trusted with his life. I could hear the faint tinkling of toy blocks, the soft cadence of his little voice forming stories only he could understand. But I wasn’t there with him. I was in the kitchen, clutching a porcelain mug filled with a tea I hadn’t touched. My mind was racing, retracing every step that had led us here—every secret, every truth, every moment I thought I was doing what was best for my son. Now I wasn’t so sure anymore. The door behind me creaked s
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