IsabellaThe city lights shimmered below us, casting a golden glow over the balcony. A gentle breeze carried the distant hum of traffic and the scent of fresh roses from the garden below. It was quiet, peacefulâperfect.I leaned against the railing, watching the world move beneath us, when two strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind. Loganâs warmth enveloped me, his chin resting lightly on my shoulder.âYouâre staring,â I teased, tilting my head to meet his gaze.âI canât help it,â he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the side of my neck. âYouâre breathtaking.âA blush crept up my cheeks, but I rolled my eyes playfully. âYou say that like you havenât seen me a thousand times before.âLogan turned me around, his hands framing my face as he studied me with that intense, unwavering focus that always made my heart stutter. âI could see you a million times and still not get enough.âI bit my lip to keep from smiling too wide, but it was uselessâhe always had this effect on me.âBes
IsabellaI never expected to see Logan at my home. But there he was, walking down the garden path like he belonged here, like he had every right to show up after everything.The evening air was warm, carrying the scent of roses and freshly cut grass, but I felt frozen in place on the patio. My fingers curled around the edge of the wicker chair, my heart hammering a little too hard against my ribs.His gaze found mine, unwavering. âHi.âI swallowed. âHi.âAn awkward pause stretched between us before I found my voice again. âHow did you find me?âLogan shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. âI begged your mother to tell me.âI raised a brow. âShe actually told you?ââShe made me swear I wouldnât make things worse.â His lips twitched like he was trying for a smile, but it didnât quite reach his eyes.I exhaled, glancing at the empty chair across from me. âSit down.âHe hesitated only for a second before stepping forward and lowering himself into the seat.âHow are you?â he asked,
LoganParis was screaming.Not the kind of dramatic, crocodile-tear crying she used to do when we were together. No, this was full-blown, red-faced, glass-shattering rage.And honestly? I didnât give a damn.âYou ruined me, Logan!â she shrieked, pacing back and forth in my office like a caged animal.âDo you have any idea how many deals Iâve lost because of your stupid lawsuit?âI leaned back in my chair, completely unfazed. âI donât know, Paris. Maybe as many as Isabella lost when you spread lies about her?âHer jaw clenched. âOh, donât give me that moral high ground bullshit. You never cared about her reputation before.âMy eyes darkened. âThatâs where youâre wrong.âI had let too many things slide in the past. Let Paris manipulate me, let her get away with her games, let her tear people down just because she could. But not this time. Not when it came to Isabella.Paris scoffed, arms crossing. âDo you really think Iâm going to let you do this to me? Iâll fight you in court, Logan. I
Isabella -After a long moment, we finally pulled apart. My mother wiped her eyes quickly, as if embarrassed by her own vulnerability. I let out a shaky breath, still trying to process everything, when she suddenly said, âIâm divorcing Robert.âI blinked. âWaitâĶ what?âShe sighed, rubbing her temples. âIt was never a real marriage, Isabella. It was always an agreement.â She looked at me, her expression softer now. âAnd I donât want to stand in the way of you and Logan.âI stared at her, completely caught off guard. âYou donât have to do that. I meanâĶ I know things between you and Robert were never perfect, but stillââShe let out a laugh, shaking her head. âSweetheart, this isnât a sacrifice. Trust me, itâs the opposite. I want this.âI frowned. âBut why now?âShe smiled. âI want to spend some time with myself, maybe even figure out who I am outside of all this. And I want to take care of your grandmother. Sheâs not getting any younger, and after everything, I think she deserves to ha
IsabellaI felt a lump rise in my throat, but I didnât interrupt. I needed to hear this, no matter how painful it was.âWe fought all the time,â she continued, her voice growing harder. âHe would yell, and I would yell back. He accused me of trapping him, of ruining his life. And IâĶ I hated him for it. I hated him for making me feel like I was nothing, like I was a burden. But I stayed because I didnât know what else to do. I had you, and I thoughtâĶ I thought I could make it work.âShe stopped again, her hands trembling as she wiped at her eyes. âAnd then he died. It was a car accidentâdrunk driving. Everyone thought it was so tragic. They pitied me, the young widow with a baby. They called us the perfect couple, the high school sweethearts who never got their happy ending. But they didnât know the truth. They didnât know how much I hated him, how much I resented him for everything he put me through.âHer words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I took a step back, struggling to proc
IsabellaI froze, my breath catching in my throat. My mother, too, seemed startled. She leaned forward, her perfectly manicured hands clasped tightly in her lap. âYes, Mom,â she said, her voice softer than Iâd ever heard it. âIâm here.âMy grandmotherâs eyes searched her face, as if trying to place her in a world that had long since slipped away. âWhereâs Matthew?â she asked, her tone almost childlike in its innocence. âIs he coming?âMy motherâs expression faltered, just for a second, before she smoothed it over with a practiced smile. âHeâs away for work,â she said gently. âBut heâll be back soon.âMy grandmother nodded, seemingly satisfied, and closed her eyes again, her grip on my hand loosening as she drifted back into sleep. I stared at my mother, my mind racing. Matthew? Who was Matthew?My grandmother had said it with such familiarity, as if it were a name she had spoken a thousand times.The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the sound of my grandmotherâs steady bre
Isabella -The gravel crunched beneath my feet as I walked up the familiar path to my grandparentsâ house. The air smelled of pine and damp earth, a comforting scent that carried me back to summers spent running through the fields, carefree and untouched by the weight of the world. But now, the house stood as a quiet sentinel, its white paint chipped and its shutters slightly askew, as if it too had aged alongside me. I paused at the front steps, my hand resting on the weathered railing, and took a deep breath. This was my refuge now, the only place where I could escape the chaos that had become my life.The key turned with a soft click, and I pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit foyer. Dust motes danced in the slivers of sunlight that filtered through the curtains, and the air was thick with the scent of old wood and forgotten memories. I dropped my bag by the door and let my fingers trail along the wall as I walked further inside. The house was exactly as I remembered i
Logan You could practically hear the tension crackling in the air.Amanda froze, her wine glass hanging in mid-air like she had just witnessed a murder. My fatherâs expression darkened so fast, I thought he might actually explode.My mom, however, looked downright delighted. âOh, this just keeps getting better,â she mused, looking between them with the kind of joy only found in well-aged revenge.Dad, jaw clenched, exhaled through his nose before muttering, âLogan, this is not the timeâââOh, I think it is,â I cut in. âYouâre really going to sit there and act like you have the moral high ground? After everything?âDad stood, his eyes locked onto mine, but before he could unleash whatever dramatic speech he had prepared, Mom clapped her hands together again. âAlright, thatâs enough of that. Robert, listen to me, and listen well. I do not have the energy to deal with your nonsense. Approve this relationship. Let my son be happy.âDad didnât budge. Amanda, who still looked like she regr
Loganâs POVI skimmed through the annual report. Sinclair Industries was vastâfar more than just the gaming division I managed. My father oversaw several subsidiaries, and while I generally stayed out of his affairs, I made it a point to review the financials at the end of each fiscal year.But something wasnât adding up.I frowned as I examined the numbers for one of our European acquisitions. A massive loanâhundreds of millionsâwas taken from a French bank. I hadnât been informed of this, and given the sheer size of the investment, I should have been.âWhat the hell is this?â I muttered, flipping through the pages.Derek, who was standing by the window, turned toward me. âFigured youâd notice that.âI shot him a sharp look. âYou knew about this?âHe shrugged. âNot all the details. Just that your father took a sizeable loan to buy that European company. Itâs been under wraps, probably because he didnât want questions.âI exhaled slowly, my mind running through the implications. My fa