“Lily, stop joking. The guy I had a one-night stand with, can’t possibly be my groom.”
Carmela Blake paced her bedroom, the soft fabric of her wedding dress swishing with each nervous step. Her phone was pressed to her ear, and her best friend’s panicked tone did little to soothe her nerves. “Carmela, I’m fucking serious!” Lily’s voice was sharp. “You, think about it for me; tall, gray eyes, ridiculously rich and insanely hot. That’s Damion Blackwood from head to bottom. How many men like that do you think exist?” Carmela’s stomach flipped, knowing what her best friend was saying was true. “It’s just a coincidence,” she said weakly, though her voice wavered. “I mean, I didn’t even get his name that night, so…” “Exactly! You didn’t get his name, and now you’re marrying a guy who fits perfectly to the description. Now, tell me if that’s not suspicious.” Carmela stopped pacing, her fingers in between her teeth’s, she sank onto the edge of her bed, her gaze drifting to the glittering gown hanging on the closet door. It was the dress her mother had prepared for her for her wedding night, so as to seduce her husband perfectly. She was marrying Damion Blackwood and this was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. He was everything she had wanted in a man, since she had secretly admired him for years. One who was successful, confident and devastatingly handsome. But now, her excitement was tainted with doubt. Could Lily really be right? Could Damion Blackwood really be him? “Even if it’s true, it doesn’t matter,” she whispered to herself, “I’m doing this for my family, anyways.” “Carmela,” Lily’s voice softened, “I know you love your parents, but are you sure about this? What if he remembers? Wouldn’t that be disastrous?” Before she could give her respond, the door burst open, and her mother swept in, her face all happy and excited for the big day. “Carmela, what are you doing just sitting there? The guests are already waiting and Damion is already at the altar! You can’t keep him waiting, can you?” “I’m coming mom!” Carmela hastily ended the call, shoving her phone into her purse. Her mother smiled at her, her eyes misting with emotion. “You look beautiful, sweetheart. Today is the start of a new chapter for all of us.” Carmela managed a small smile, though her stomach churned with anxiety. ‘A new chapter, alright. One where I might be walking straight into disaster.’ She mouthed within herself. The grand hall was packed with the city’s elite, every eyes turning to her as Carmela entered on her father’s arm. The scent of white roses filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of whispers from the crowd. Her heart pounded hard in her chest as anxiety dawned on her as her gaze locked on Damion. He stood at the alter in a black tailored suit, fitting perfectly to his skin, tall and commanding, his gray eyes sharp and unreadable. He’s perfect, Carmela thought, her chest tightening. So perfect that it was almost terrifying for her. The whispers amongst the crowds present reached her ears: “She’s so lucky. Damion Blackwood is a dream come true.” “How badly I wish I was her!!!!” “Damion is so hot, and perfect, how can only her be able to enjoy his sturdy body.” “I heard he’s ruthless in business. I wonder if he’s the same in bed, now only she can be able to discover that.” Carmela pushed the comments aside, her cheek biting red, her focus solely on Damion. As they drew closer, his piercing gaze didn’t waver, and a flicker of something - Recognition? Amusement?-crossed his face. Did he remember her? Like Lily had said? Her mind spiraled. No, he can’t. There’s no way. But why was he looking at her in such manner? Carmela didn’t want to overthink it much. He probably was wondering why she was walking like a baby giraffe in heels. When they reached they finally held hands, he led her up to the alter. His touch was warm, firm and surprisingly reassuring. Carmela’s breath caught as their eyes met. For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw a spark of warmth in his gaze. Then it was gone almost immediately, replaced with the same unreadable coldness. The officiants words blurred together and Carmela could barely touch. Her entire being was hyper-aware of Damion standing beside her, his presence overwhelming and towering. When the time came to exchange vows, his voice was steady, smooth as silk. “I do.” The sound sent shiver down her spine. It wasn’t just the words- it was the way he said them, like he was sealing a deal rather than pledging his heart. When it was her turn, she barely managed to whisper, “I do.” Damion then after slipped the ring onto her finger, his touch lingering for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. Does he know? The question echoed in her mind repeatedly, yet there was no time for a reply. The ceremony continued, and before she realized it, they were declared husband and wife. The reception was a haze of clinking glasses and courteous congratulations. Carmela smiled and nodded her way through the crowd, her cheek aching for the effort. “You’ve made us so proud, darling,” her mother said, pulling her into a tight hug. “Damion is everything we could have hoped for. He’s going to be the perfect husband for you and you are to respect him and give him everything he wants, even-.” Her mother then leaned in to whisper, “ your body when he wants sex.” Her father clapped Damion on the shoulder, adverting their attention, his gratitude spilling out like a flood. “Thank you, Damion. You’ve saved us. You’re like a God sent. I really appreciate everything, please promise to take care of her.” Damion’s lips curled into a polite smile, but his eyes remained cold. “Of course. She’s my wife now, why wouldn’t I?” Carmela’s heart fluttered at his words, but something about his tone made her uneasy. Their eyes met but it wasn’t for a second. When the crowd began to thin, Damion leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear in what appeared to be an affectionate gestures but his words sent a cold chill down her spine. “Just so you know, this marriage was a business deal,” he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. “Now we’re almost done with the charade, I thought you should know that I own you now and you are to do exactly as I say or else your parents will suffer if you refuse me, and I’m sure you love your parents so much than to watch them suffer.”Brian’s POV The police station wasn’t far from my apartment. Ten minutes if you walked slow. Eight if you didn’t look back. I walked. Not because I wanted to savor it—but because it was the last time I’d move through this city without a record. Without eyes on my back. Without the weight of consequences finally pressing against my ribs. I’d spent months justifying what I did. Telling myself it wasn’t real crime. That it didn’t matter. That it was the only way to survive in a world ruled by men like Walter Blackwood. But all that time, I was just delaying the inevitable. Kaia had forced my hand. But it wasn’t fear that brought me here. It was Isabelle. The look in her eyes when I told her everything—steady, disappointed, but not cruel—made me realize something: She’d spent her life dragging herself out of places people like me helped dig. And I wasn’t going to be another reason she had to keep climbing. So I stepped through the glass doors, walked up to
Isabelle’s POV After the open day ended and the last of the parents cleared the courtyard, I sat alone in the front passenger seat of my car, keys idle in the ignition, staring at the school gate Nathan had just disappeared behind. He was inside now—safe, joyful, chatting away with his friends, his small hands still sticky from the science station where they’d made slime in little plastic tubs. He hadn’t let go of Damion’s hand for the better part of an hour. And Damion… he hadn’t let go either. There had been no tension in his face. No performance in his smile. Just a softness I didn’t know he still carried. A kind of quiet reverence, as though being near Nathan was something sacred. It was strange to see them together. Stranger still… to realize I wasn’t afraid. Not in that moment. ⸻ I drove home in silence, windows cracked just enough to let in the late afternoon breeze. It smelled like the last few days of spring—clean and warm, with something new in the air
Damion’s POV The message came just after noon. I was in my office, staring at a report I hadn’t read, half-listening to a board call I’d muted, when my phone buzzed. I almost didn’t check it. Lately, most messages were about damage control. Legal teams. Press clarifications. Residual fallout from Walter and Kaia’s collapse. But when I saw her name, everything around me went quiet. Nathan’s school has an open day this Saturday. You’re welcome to come… if you want. He knows who you are now. We’ll take it slow. Please be on time. I read it once. Then again. And again. My hand trembled as I set the phone down on the desk, heart pounding in a way it hadn’t in years. She told him. He knows. And she was letting me come. Not just as a visitor. But as his father. ⸻ For a long time, I couldn’t move. I just sat there, flooded by a hundred emotions I couldn’t name. Relief. Gratitude. Fear. Something close to awe. For months, maybe years, I didn’t dare
Brian’s POV It was just after midnight when I woke in a cold sweat. The apartment was silent. No wind. No traffic. No comfort. I sat up on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor like the answers might be hidden in the cracks between the planks. Kaia’s voice echoed in my mind, slithering in like smoke I couldn’t chase out: “Make sure he knows what I can still do from behind these walls.” I hadn’t told Isabelle everything. Not yet. Yes, I gave her the financial records—the paper trail, the forged signatures, the overseas transfers. But I hadn’t told her how long I’d worked for Walter. How deep I’d gone. How close I’d come to being the same kind of monster she fought so hard to bring down. Not because I wanted to lie. But because I wasn’t ready to lose her. I told myself I was protecting her. But the truth? I was protecting myself. ⸻ I got up and walked to the kitchen, flicking on the light. The apartment felt foreign now. As if it n
Kaia’s POV The air inside the prison was always dry. A recycled kind of dead—too clean, too sterile. It clung to your throat, clashed with memory, and stripped even the fiercest anger down to silence over time. But today, silence wasn’t an option. Not after he walked out. Brian. With that smug, righteous look on his face. As if telling the truth earned him a redemption arc. As if he hadn’t once been just as greedy, just as complicit. He thought walking away with clean hands now could erase the stains I knew he still wore under his shirt. It was laughable. Pitiful. And dangerous. Because Kaia Whitmore had never been made for a cage. And she wasn’t going to rot in one while the men who used her stories as stepping stones moved on like she was a page they had turned. ⸻ I paced the small, beige-walled cell, my arms crossed tightly over my chest. The other inmate across the hall watched me warily, pretending not to eavesdrop as I muttered to myself. They did
Isabelle’s POV I didn’t speak to Brian for the rest of the day. Not because I was angry. Not exactly. But because anger was too easy a word for the way my chest felt—tight, heavy, slow to rise and fall. Like every breath came with a question I wasn’t ready to answer. I spent most of the afternoon by the windows, curled into the corner of the couch with a book I didn’t read. My eyes flicked over the words, but my mind kept circling back to his voice. “Kaia knows something.” “I laundered money.” “I’m trying to be the man who finally puts it down.” The sentences played on repeat, no matter how many times I tried to replace them with silence. He had lied to me. Not just about the past. But about who he was while standing beside me through some of the hardest months of my life. While claiming to be different. Better. Safe. And now, that safety felt like a thread unraveling between my fingers. ⸻ It was late afternoon when Stephanie came by with updates on t