Lucien I watched Isla disappear into the elevator, her hand still warm from mine, and for a full minute after the doors closed, I didn’t move. She had no idea how powerful she was. Walking into that room and recounting everything Damon had done to her—it would’ve shattered most people. But not Isla. She sat there, trembling but unbroken, a mother determined to protect her child. And when I looked into her eyes, I didn’t see the girl who ran from me years ago. I saw a woman who had clawed her way out of hell and stood taller because of it. And now it was my turn to make sure hell didn’t come back. I headed straight to my office, ignoring every phone call, every assistant trying to grab my attention. I shut the door behind me, locked it, and pulled up the secured file I’d been building for the last week. Damon Lancaster wasn’t just some scorned ex. He was dangerous, reckless, and unstable—and I had the documentation to prove it. I’d dug up employment records, restraining orders fi
Isla The morning sunlight poured through the kitchen window, bathing the countertops in gold. Leo sat at the breakfast table, his tiny feet swinging beneath the chair as he colored in his favorite dinosaur book. His face was calm, innocent—completely unaware of the war that brewed just beyond the walls of our quiet apartment. I watched him with a tight heart, pouring him a glass of orange juice with shaking hands. I didn’t want him to know what today meant. That I was going to sit in a lawyer’s office and finally say everything I’d tried so hard to bury. That I was going to speak Damon’s name aloud again—this time, not as a woman broken by him, but as a mother willing to tear apart her past to protect her son. Leo looked up at me and grinned, his mouth ringed in purple from a grape Popsicle he’d snuck earlier. “Mommy, did you know T-Rexes can’t hug?” I blinked, caught off guard. “They can’t?” He held up the book proudly. “Too short arms.” I laughed. The sound came out thin, but
Lucien“Run it again. From the top.”I stood at the head of the long conference table, the windows behind me flooding the room with pale morning light. The skyline was a sharp line of glass and ambition—unforgiving, unrelenting. Just like the war I was about to wage.My legal team—five of the sharpest attorneys in New York, each of them handpicked by me—flipped through the dossiers and documents spread across the table. Every page had Damon’s name on it. Every page was a brick in the wall I was building to keep him far away from Isla and Leo.A junior associate cleared her throat and began again. “Damon Creed has no record of legal infractions—”“Public ones,” I corrected coldly. “Let’s not pretend the absence of evidence is the evidence of absence.”She flinched but nodded.Another lawyer, Myra—older, sharper, and too seasoned to be intimidated by my interruptions—tapped a file. “But this,” she said, “is our strongest angle. The old restraining order Isla filed back in college. It wa
IslaI couldn’t sleep.Lucien’s apartment was too quiet, too pristine—like the calm before a storm. I lay on my side in the dark, watching the outline of Leo’s tiny body as he breathed steadily beside me. He’d insisted on sleeping in my bed tonight, his fingers curled tightly into my t-shirt, like he knew, somehow, that the world outside wasn’t safe.I stroked his curls gently and closed my eyes.But every time I tried to drift off, Damon’s voice echoed through my head. “He’s mine too, Isla.”My stomach turned. I hated how the words sounded coming from his mouth. Twisted. Possessive. Like Leo was a thing—something he could lay claim to just because of DNA. He wasn’t a father. Not in any way that mattered. But the law? The law might see it differently. And that’s what scared me most.I sat up, quietly slipped out of bed, and padded into the kitchen. The city lights cast a soft glow across Lucien’s marble countertops, and the clock on the stove blinked 2:14 a.m.I poured myself a glass
LucienThere are moments in a man’s life that sharpen him into something unrecognizable.Watching Isla shrink back from Damon’s grip—that was mine.I had known rage before. In boardrooms. In betrayal. In loss. But this—this was something far more primal. It hit me in the gut, then flared through my chest like fire licking bone.He touched her.He threatened my son.And he smiled while doing it.I didn’t wait for him to reach the end of the driveway before I turned to Marco. “I want him followed. Twenty-four-seven. I want to know where he eats, who he calls, what his lawyer had for breakfast. If he so much as breathes in Leo’s direction again—”“He’ll choke on it,” Marco finished, already dialing.I looked back at Isla. Her eyes were wide, her posture taut. But she hadn’t crumbled—not even when Damon made that disgusting claim about custody. She stood there like a lioness guarding her cub, and I swear I fell harder in that moment than I did when I first saw her again in Venice.I stepp
IslaThere’s a particular kind of fear that doesn’t scream—it whispers. It doesn’t rush through you like a storm. No. It creeps. Crawls. It settles under your skin and stays there, coiling itself around your spine like a question you don’t want answered.And that’s exactly how I felt the morning we opened the front door to find him standing on the steps.Damon Connolly.Leo was in the kitchen with Lucien’s housekeeper, munching on strawberries. The sun was slanting through the windows. Everything had felt normal. Safe.Until I opened the door.He looked different—leaner, more calculated. His suit was expensive, but it hung off his frame like he wasn’t used to wearing power anymore. His eyes were just the same, though. Cold. Possessive. Dangerous.“Hello, Isla,” he said, as if we were old friends.I didn’t reply. My heart had already slammed against my ribs. My body went still, but my mind raced. Why was he here? How did he find me? What did he want?“You’re not going to invite me in?”