The Blackwood Estate stood as a towering symbol of wealth and influence, its grandeur casting an imposing shadow over the city skyline. It was a place where only the most elite gathered, a haven for billionaires, politicians, and socialites who measured power in whispers and sealed deals with a clink of crystal glasses. Tonight, the estate was alive with music and laughter, the grand ballroom a spectacle of shimmering lights, flowing champagne, and breathtakingly expensive gowns.Isla Carter adjusted the strap of her deep emerald dress, her fingers grazing the soft silk as she scanned the crowd with barely concealed unease. She was out of place here, surrounded by women who wore their privilege like a second skin and men who had the world at their feet. She hadn’t wanted to come, but her best friend, Elena, had insisted, dragging her into a night she was already regretting.“You look like you’re about to make a run for it,” Elena teased, nudging Isla’s arm as they stood near the bar.
The night was supposed to end the moment Isla stepped off the dance floor, but fate had other plans. Her pulse was still erratic from Killian Blackwood’s touch, his cryptic words echoing in her mind. She should have walked away, left the gala without a second glance—but the fire in her veins wouldn’t let her.Instead, she found herself storming into the dimly lit study at the far end of the Blackwood Estate, away from the prying eyes of high society. The heavy mahogany doors shut behind her with a quiet click, enclosing her in the lion’s den.Killian stood by the bar, pouring himself a drink, his broad shoulders at ease as if he had anticipated this confrontation. He didn’t turn immediately, but Isla knew he sensed her presence.“You just walk away after that?” Isla’s voice was sharper than intended, laced with an emotion she refused to name.Killian finally glanced at her over his shoulder, his dark eyes amused. “Would you have preferred I stayed and entertained your questions in fro
The sun had fully risen by the time Isla gathered the courage to leave Killian’s suite. Even in her expensive gown, she felt exposed, vulnerable. The hallway was empty as she slipped through, her heart pounding with the weight of her regret. Every step away from that room felt like a thousand miles, but it still wasn’t far enough.By the time she made it to the lobby, her phone buzzed.**Bestie:** Where are you? I saw you leave with HIM. Tell me you didn’t.Isla’s fingers trembled over the screen. How could she explain what had happened? How could she admit to the reckless mistake that now clawed at her insides?Before she could respond, a hotel concierge approached her with a polite but distant smile. "Miss Carter, Mr. Blackwood requested that a car be prepared for you. It’s waiting outside."Isla stiffened. “Excuse me?”The man’s expression didn’t waver. "Mr. Blackwood had an early departure and left instructions to ensure you had a comfortable way home."Early departure.The words
The morning air was crisp as Isla sat curled up on her couch, staring blankly at the steaming cup of tea in her hands. The TV was on, the news anchor droning about stock market shifts and business takeovers, but the words barely registered. Her mind was elsewhere—trapped in an endless loop of anxiety and confusion.Her period was late. She had been trying to ignore it for days, blaming stress, exhaustion, anything but the most obvious possibility. But as she counted the weeks in her head for the hundredth time, dread tightened around her chest like a steel vice. Elena, who had been bustling in the kitchen, walked in with two plates of toast and eggs. She eyed Isla’s expression and immediately frowned. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, setting the plates down. “What’s going on?”Isla hesitated, biting her lip so hard she nearly drew blood. Elena knew her too well. There was no hiding this. “I think I might be pregnant,” Isla finally whispered.Elena blinked. Then blink
The city skyline stretched beyond Isla’s apartment window, twinkling with lights that seemed indifferent to her turmoil. The pregnancy test lay discarded on her nightstand, but the truth it revealed haunted her every waking moment. She needed to talk to him. Killian Blackwood might have vanished after that night, but he couldn’t ignore this forever. Heart pounding, Isla grabbed her phone and scrolled to his contact once more. The screen glowed in the dim room, his name taunting her. She hesitated only a second before pressing ‘call.’The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times.Straight to voicemail.A lump formed in her throat. She ended the call and tried again. This time, the call didn’t even ring—it went directly to voicemail.He had blocked her.The realization hit like a punch to the gut. Her breath came out in shallow bursts, fingers tightening around the device. Anger, frustration, hurt—all of it swirled inside her, an uncontrollable storm. Elena, who had been sitting cross-
The days following her humiliating encounter with Killian Blackwood were filled with a suffocating silence. Isla tried to move on, tried to focus on her work, but the weight of his dismissal clung to her like a curse. She spent her nights tossing and turning, replaying their last conversation over and over again in her mind. Then, the summons came.It was abrupt—a call from an unknown number, followed by a sleek black car arriving at her apartment doorstep. The driver, a man with a stony expression, handed her a single piece of paper: *Killian Blackwood requests your presence. No refusals.*She wanted to ignore it. She should have. But something inside her burned with the need to confront him, to demand answers for his cruel indifference. The frustration, the pain, the anger—all of it surged within her, and before she could rationalize, she was getting into the car.And so, she went.---The Blackwood estate loomed ahead like a fortress, its grand entrance flanked by towering iron ga
The contract sat on Isla’s small dining table, an unrelenting presence, its crisp white pages mocking her with every passing second. She had left Killian’s estate in a haze, the weight of his ultimatum pressing down on her like a vice. For two days, she had locked herself in her apartment, refusing to answer calls, avoiding the world. But no amount of isolation could make the reality disappear. She was running out of time.Her finances were in shambles. Rent was overdue, her savings had dwindled, and the looming medical expenses of her pregnancy felt like a boulder hanging over her head. The job she once loved, her independence—all of it seemed to slip further from her grasp with each passing moment. Killian had backed her into a corner, and she hated him for it.A sharp knock on the door jolted her out of her thoughts. She hesitated before standing, smoothing out the wrinkles in her worn-out sweatshirt. When she opened the door, her best friend, Elena, stood there, eyes scanning
The ceremony was nothing like Isla had imagined a wedding should be. There were no flowers, no music, no guests to celebrate the union. It was held in a private office at city hall, the cold walls and lifeless decor mirroring the emptiness in her heart.Killian Blackwood stood beside her, his tailored suit immaculate, his expression unreadable. He had barely looked at her since she arrived, as if this was nothing more than a routine business deal. And to him, it was.The officiant cleared his throat, glancing between them. "Do you, Killian Blackwood, take Isla Carter to be your lawfully wedded wife?"Killian didn't hesitate. "I do."His voice was steady, devoid of emotion. He could have been agreeing to a contract merger for all the warmth he showed.Isla's chest tightened as the officiant turned to her. "And do you, Isla Carter, take Killian Blackwood to be your lawfully wedded husband?"She swallowed hard, her fingers trembling at her sides. Every fiber of her being screamed at her
Isla Carter stirred her coffee with deliberate purpose, watching the dark liquid swirl in slow arcs. Across the small table, Killian Blackwood sat still, his own cup untouched, both hands wrapped around the ceramic as though it would hold him.They'd been sitting there in that strained silence for nearly ten minutes, the city sounds outside breaking through every now and then. The atmosphere was thick with all the things they weren't saying."You said you wanted to earn my trust," Isla said at last, setting her spoon down with care, her voice measured. "Start now. Be truthful. Everything. No filters. No rehearsed apologies. Just the ugly, hard truth."Killian looked back at her, and in that instant, she saw the exhaustion in his eyes—not physical, but emotional, soul-deep. He looked like a man who had finally decided to stop running from himself."I played it to be near you," he began, his tone low but clear. "It was strategy at first. You were with someone I needed to use as leverage
The fog clung to the city in the morning like a memory that would not let go. Isla Carter leaned against the high window of her new studio apartment, coffee cup cradled in her hand, watching the fog curl and peel back from the skyline. There was something lovely about the sight. It was imperfect, cluttered with buildings and scaffolding and the ceaseless hum of the waking world. But it was hers. No penthouse dreams. No designer illusions. Just a small space, filled with second-hand furniture and the scent of jasmine from the plant she had put by the door.She had begun to rebuild.The past several weeks had graven lines of resilience onto her bones. Her mornings remained still, her nights often emptier than she'd ever dare acknowledge, but between—she was herself once more. She painted. She journaled. She met strangers who didn't recognize her history and didn't inquire. That anonymity was a gift.And Killian Blackwood.He hadn't stopped reaching out.Not strangling. No theatrics late
The rain returned like an old memory—unwanted, but not quite unmissed.Isla Carter stood in the window of her new apartment, arms crossed, as the city disappeared behind the curtain of falling water. The soft pitter-patter on the glass should have been soothing. Instead, it woke up the weight in her chest that never really went away.She had started again, hadn't she? New apartment. New clients. New schedule that didn't involve Killian Blackwood. Her name was on the lease this time. Her name was on the company licenses. It was all hers, hers and hers alone.And yet, there were days when she caught herself waiting for him to walk through the door like he was waiting there for her. Like he used to.She brushed the idea away and turned from the window. The doorbell sounded.She hadn't been expecting anyone.She dried her hands on her slacks, Isla coming and peering through the peephole. Her heart stuttered.Killian.Raindrops dripped through the shoulders of his coat. His hair inky black
Sunlight poured through the window of the coffee shop as Isla Carter and Killian Blackwood stepped out into the newly vacant street. The smell of rain was still in the air, fresh and infused with a gentle kind of hope. Neither of them said a word for a moment or two. It wasn't an uneasy silence but one that was heavy with the weight of all that hadn't been spoken—the past, the hurt, the what's-next."Do you want to walk a little bit?" Killian asked, his hands jammed deep in the pockets of his coat, his voice quiet.Isla nodded. "Yeah."They started walking down the sidewalk, falling into step without speaking. The city swirled around them—living, bustling—but their lives had been narrowed to this moment, this tenuous peace between them. Isla had no idea what would be next after this moment. But for the first time, she wasn't running from her feelings, and Killian wasn't hiding behind motivation.They reached the park, familiar yet altered in the way things are when viewed through diff
The following days were filled with a tense, quiet rhythm—a condition of cautious peace. Killian Blackwood did nothing. He didn't stick around. He called every day, just a friendly calling-in: *Do you need anything? May I bring something?*Isla Carter never heard him like this. soft before. There was a reserve in his voice, as if he were pacing on thin ice, not wanting to shatter the delicate balance she'd begun to restore.She didn't always pick up. Sometimes she let the phone ring out. But she listened to the voicemails.And every night, she looked at the empty space on the other side of her bed and wondered why the pain had not lessened.On the fourth day, she opened her front door to find a package. A hardcover book sat on the welcome mat, wrapped in brown paper and twine. There was no note. But she knew it was from him.It was the same novel they'd argued about previously at that bookstore near his penthouse. The one she'd called overhyped, and he'd said she hadn't had a decent s
The morning sun filtered through the lace curtains of Isla Carter's cottage, casting soft golden shafts that crept across the wooden floorboards. It had rained during the night, but now all was glittering with dew, as though nature itself had decided to cleanse the past.Isla awoke beneath the quilted blankets of her grandmother's old bed, her mind already racing with the events of last night. Her heart thudded with a mix of disbelief and something more tender. Not quite trust. Not yet. But its ghost.She turned her head a little and discovered Killian Blackwood sleeping in the armchair across the room, his large frame uncomfortably slouched, his head resting on the wooden back, and his dark lashes casting a shadow on his cheekbones. He looked. human. Vulnerable. Not the invincible magnate who had once discarded her like a broken deal.Just a man who had stayed.She sat up slowly, careful not to wake him. But his eyes fluttered open anyway."Morning," he murmured, his voice gravelly w
Morning light streamed through the transparent curtains of Isla Carter's loft, casting golden threads across the wooden floor. It was quiet, peaceful, almost too still.Isla stood by the kitchen window, a cup of steaming chamomile tea held in her hands. Her eyes followed the soft sway of the trees beyond the window, but her mind was elsewhere. The words from Killian Blackwood the night before had stuck with her, each one ringing with the finality of something that could not be undone."I want to be worthy of you, Isla. Even if it takes the rest of my life.".Those words had unraveled something inside her, something she'd fought to tighten up in past months. She'd rebuilt herself from the ground up. Improved. Intelligent. But also better guarded.Yet Killian returned — not the cold, rational man who formerly considered love an exchange, but a rough, unfinished, and terrifyingly real person.There was a knock that interrupted her thoughts.She spun towards the door, already pounding wit
The next morning, after Killian Blackwood's offer, was bright and beautiful, the kind of golden light that made all things seem fresh. Isla Carter awoke with her hand still lying softly over the engagement ring on her finger, her heart still skipping a beat in disbelief and joy. The previous night had seemed like a dream created, but the sparkle of the diamond and the heat of Killian's arms about her reminded her it was real.She rolled over in bed to find him already awake, lying on one elbow, looking at her with quiet respect."Morning, fiancée," he whispered, voice low with sleep and love.She laughed, stretching out. "Morning, fiancé."He got up and kissed her softly, his thumb tracing her cheek. "We have to get up. Big day today."She groaned. "I just want to lie here and pretend the world doesn't exist."He smiled, his face buried in her hair. "Tempting. But I promised a very clever woman that we would do something real."Her heart skipped another beat.Isla threw off the covers
For a couple of days, it looked like the storm had actually passed.The made-up stories fell out of the headlines.A formal denial from Marcus's so-called "anonymous sources" appeared, recanting all the charges. The donors who had pulled out of Haven's Hope began calling again, bearing apologies and tentative promises of aid.The shelter breathed again.The town itself, cautiously at first, but ever more warmly, welcomed Killian Blackwood back home.But Killian wasn't the same man anymore.He'd surrendered his empire, his riches, and his fine reputation for Isla Carter.And even though he didn't resent it — not one minute of it — the weight of it came upon him now and then on nights that stretched interminable and sleepless.He didn't tell Isla everything.Not yet.Not with the phone calls he wasn't returning from old friends who now saw him as a liability.Not with the lawyers circling like vultures over the deals Marcus had bullied him into signing.Not with the creeping, insidious