A deal sealed in desperation. A marriage bound by secrets. A heart caught between danger and desire. When Isla Monroe agrees to marry a man whose name strikes fear and fascination in equal measure, she steps into a world where power rules, silence conceals, and love is the most dangerous game of all. He’s cold, unreadable, and devastatingly magnetic. She’s fragile, desperate, and holding onto her last thread of hope. What begins as a contract quickly unravels into something far more complicated…. where tension simmers, pasts collide, and every touch feels like a trap. But in a house full of shadows, the greatest mystery isn’t him… It’s why he chose her. And when secrets start to surface, Isla must ask herself the question no one dares to answer. What’s the real price of wearing his ring?
Lihat lebih banyakI didn’t expect the world to crumble in a single afternoon.
One moment, I was hoping for a miracle. The next, I was holding a medical report with a death sentence wrapped in a six-figure invoice. “Your mother needs immediate surgery, Miss Monroe,” the doctor had said. “If it’s not done within the next seventy-two hours, she may not survive.” He said it like he wasn’t talking about someone’s life. Like he wasn’t talking about the only person I had left in this world. When I walked out of that office, it felt like my legs weren’t mine anymore. My fingers clutched the hospital file so tightly, my nails dug into the plastic cover. I didn’t even notice when I stepped into the rain. I was numb. Cold. Lost. $500,000. That’s what it would take to save her. Five hundred thousand dollars for the surgery and the post-operative care. I couldn’t even wrap my head around it. It was more than my life’s earnings. More than I’d ever seen in one place. And I had no one. No backup. No plan B. I stumbled to a bench beneath the hospital canopy and sat down, the water dripping from my soaked clothes pooling around my feet. It wasn’t just the rain that chilled me. It was the weight of helplessness. A mother who devoted her entire life to raising me. A woman who worked night shifts and cleaned houses just so I could attend school. And now, when it was my turn to save her, I was powerless. I pulled out my phone for the hundredth time and scrolled through my contacts. Most of them were people I hadn’t spoken to in years. Some were old classmates, others were coworkers I barely remembered. Not a single person I could call for help. I had already tried everything. Posted donation appeals on every social platform. Applied for emergency medical assistance, only to be told the waitlist was months long. Pawned every valuable thing I owned including my grandmother’s ring and my college laptop. Still, I wasn’t even close. I bit down on my bottom lip hard enough to bleed. What else could I do? “Miss Isla Monroe?” The voice cut through the storm like a sharp blade. I looked up, startled. A tall man stood in front of me, dressed immaculately in a black trench coat, an umbrella shielding him from the downpour. His suit looked more expensive than my entire apartment. He carried a briefcase in one hand and wore an unreadable expression on his face. “Yes?” I replied hesitantly, pulling my soaked coat tighter around my body. “I’m Mr. Clark. I represent Mr. Alexander Blackwood.” For a moment, I wondered if the cold had gotten to my head and I was hearing things. “Blackwood?” I repeated slowly, frowning. “As in… the billionaire Alexander Blackwood?” He gave a small nod. “Yes. Mr. Blackwood has sent you with an offer.” I blinked, confused. “You must be mistaken. I don’t know Mr. Blackwood.” “You don’t need to. He knows you.” That sent a ripple of unease down my spine. Who is this madman? “I… I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Without another word, he reached into his briefcase and pulled out a sealed envelope. He handed it to me, along with a business card. The paper felt too crisp, too clean in my trembling hands. I opened it slowly, unsure of what I was even expecting. What I saw made my breath catch. A check. $500,000. Payable to Isla Monroe. My heartbeat slammed against my ribcage. I glanced up at him, the paper shaking in my grip. “This can’t be real,” I whispered. “It’s very real,” he replied calmly. “It comes with a condition.” “What kind of condition?” I asked, already bracing for something horrible. “A marriage contract. Six months. You marry Mr. Blackwood legally and publicly. In return, the check is yours, and your mother’s surgery will be arranged immediately.” I stared at him like he had just spoken in another language. “You want me to marry a stranger?” “This is not a romantic proposition, Miss Monroe. It’s a business transaction. Mr. Blackwood requires a wife for a personal matter. You are a suitable candidate.” My stomach churned. “Why me?” I asked again, louder this time. “Why not someone from his own world? A model? A socialite? A woman who actually fits in his life?” He paused just for a second. There was a strange look in his eyes before he said, “Because you resemb… remind him of someone. That’s all I can tell you.” What did that even mean? I looked down at the check again. It was so surreal. I could almost feel the weight of the ink on my fingertips. “I don’t understand… is this even legal?” “There’s a contract. A legal one. You’ll receive a copy to review. Everything will be handled by our attorneys.” “And after six months?” My voice cracked. “The marriage ends. Cleanly. Discreetly. No obligations afterward.” I stared at the check, torn between the rising fear in my chest and the urgency clawing at my heart. My mother needed that money. She didn’t have time for my pride, or my hesitation, or my confusion. I had nothing. No options. No safety net. And now, this stranger was offering to buy my life for six months in exchange for saving hers. “What happens if I say no?” I asked softly. He raised a brow. “Then I walk away, and the offer disappears. Forever.” I looked up at him again, searching for any sign that this was a prank or a scam or anything other than what it appeared to be. But there was none. “Why would a man like Alexander Blackwood need a fake wife?” Mr. Clark didn’t answer. He simply gave a thin smile and turned away. “You have until midnight,” he said before walking off into the rain, disappearing like a shadow into the storm. His black umbrella glistened as he walked away. I stood there soaked, stunned, heart pounding in my ears. And in my hand… was a lifeline I never expected, attached to a chain I didn’t fully understand. I didn’t know if this was a blessing or a trap. A miracle or a curse. But deep down, I knew the truth: Desperation doesn’t care about consequences. And mine had just written me into a deal I couldn’t afford to refuse.The substance Candice injected into me must be messing with my mind… hallucinations, maybe. That’s the only explanation for what I’m seeing. Because there’s no way I’m actually at Alex’s estate. But my brain… it’s trying to convince me otherwise. I see myself stumbling down the grand staircase of the Blackwood mansion, the marble steps spinning under my feet. I feel the impact. Every roll. Every slam against the cold stone. Above me, the chandelier twinkles like stars through my half-closed eyes. There’s shouting—someone’s screaming, but the sound comes in waves, distorted like it’s floating underwater. Then there’s something wet. Lodged between my thighs. I blink, and Lucy’s face is hovering above mine. What the hell? She looks… different. Her cheeks are rounder, her hair cut short and blunt around her jawline. She’s staring at me, her brows pinched in worry. Why is she in my dream? Why does it feel so real? I groan and drag my hand down between my thighs. My fingers
“The smelling salt didn’t work?” A woman’s voice, calm but annoyed, cuts through the fuzz in my head. A man replies, but I can’t hear him clearly. Everything sounds like it’s underwater. My eyes sting as I try to open them. Where the hell am I? “She’s awake. Great. Hey, wake up.” Cold fingers grab my jaw, tilting my head up. I try to open my eyes again, but the light burns. Everything is too bright. There’s a weird prickling sensation on my left leg, and I want to reach down and scratch it. But I can’t. My arms won’t move. My wrists are tied. The memories crash into me all at once. The container. Jake. My clothes. The needle. The rope. “Bitch, wake the fuck up. Geez.” That same cold hand smacks lightly against my face. Then I smell it—salt. Sharp and bitter. I cough and jerk back, my eyes finally blinking open. The flashlight is blinding, and I flinch. When I manage to look down, my breath catches. I’m not naked anymore, but what I’m wearing isn’t much better. A scra
Lashings? She couldn’t possibly mean— And what the hell was Jake doing here? He was part of this? I stare, frozen, as Jake’s heavily booted, mud-caked feet step onto the cold metal floor of the container, his gaze carefully avoiding mine. A helmet dangles from his left arm, He faces Gratia, standing rigidly like a soldier awaiting orders. With the light now streaming in from the open door, I finally get a full look at her. Gratia—draped in a white linen blouse tucked into sharply tailored white pants that somehow remain spotless despite the mud outside. Her wrists are stacked with heavy beads that clink with every small movement. The flashlight is now dangling from her other hand, its beam dancing across the walls. Her raven black hair is pulled back tightly, and her lips are painted a harsh red that makes her smile look even colder. “I was in the middle of a race,” Jake mutters irritably, shifting the helmet to his other arm. Still, his eyes refuse to meet mine. “That
“Mum? I’m heading out…. Just though to let you know..”. I trailed off on the bottom of the staircase. No answer. With a sigh, I step out onto the front porch, tucking my hair behind my ear as I glance up at the sky. The clouds are heavy—looks like it’s going to pour soon. The debate in my head won’t stop. Should I meet with Alex or not? Candice would be pissed if she knew, but she doesn’t know him like I do. What really gets under my skin is that Joseph hasn’t bothered to call. Not once. I shake the thought away and start walking down the street, deciding to explore the length of my new neighborhood. I’ll stop at the gas station near the end and hitch a ride from there. I don’t want Alex picking me up here. Not sure why—maybe it’s the weird feeling that Mum might be watching from the window— “Isla!” A deep voice calls out behind me—one I recognize instantly. I spin around and see Drew behind the wheel of a sleek black BMW. He’s turning into my neighborhood, but he doe
“You only ever call me when you need something,” Candice says, her voice cold. “You didn’t even tell me about the diaries… Now it makes sense why you kept it from me—why you didn’t want me to know your husband killed Nadia.” The words sting. I shut her up with a sharp hiss. “Shhh. He didn’t kill anyone. Don’t you get it? They’re trying to frame him. And Joseph is involved.” My eyes drift out to the street below. I grip the edge of the balcony, the air cool against my skin. I still haven’t gotten over that message from last night—the one I now know was from my twin. I haven’t even responded to Alex’s call. I couldn’t. Not after that. Candice leans back on the balcony rail, arms stretched, her back pressed against the cool metal. Her blonde hair blows around her face in the wind as she looks at me with raised brows. “Right… Joseph. As in your father, right?” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “…Right.” “But what does he gain though?” Candice asks, squinting like she
“You’re being ridiculous. I would have… I would…” I cut him off, anger brimming in me. Forgetting the slight pain that shoots through me as I scramble to my feet, covering myself with my clothes. He was already in his pants, and the look on his face… “You would have what, Alex?” I bite, voice sharp. “It’s not like you ever thought I was worth your while. Is it so shocking that I was a virgin?” He winces at my statement, shoving his hands into his hair, and looks away from me, eyes locked on the fireplace. “I’ll make it up to you,” he says suddenly, turning to look at me again. He winces, like the sight in front of him is something he’s ruined beyond repair. “I’ll give you anything you want…” “I… I don’t want anything from you,” I murmur, voice small. The hurt sits heavy in my chest—the fact that I actually enjoyed it, and now he’s making it seem like he did something terrible. “You can’t possibly not want anything after I’ve just… just ruined you…” He winces again at t
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