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Chapter 19: The Truth Unveiled
Last Updated:
2025-03-14 05:14:00
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Shattered Vows Chapter 20: Unbreakable Resolve
Isla sat in the darkness of her room, the only source of light coming from the city skyline outside. The vast metropolis stretched before her, alive with flickering lights and distant sirens, but she felt nothing—just a numb emptiness settling deep in her bones. Her hands clenched into fists on her lap as she replayed the scene with Killian over and over in her mind.He had lied to her. Again.She should have expected it. Killian Blackwood was not a man who dealt in honesty. He was cold, calculated, and only ever did things that served his own interests. And she? She had been a fool—a fool who had let him get close enough to hurt her not once, but twice.Never again.A knock at the door startled her. Her first instinct was to ignore it, but then a familiar voice echoed through the quiet space.“Isla, open the damn door.”Killian.A bitter laugh escaped her lips. Of course, he would come. Of course, he would try to smooth things over with that same cold, detached logic he always used.
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Isla’s heels echoed against the marble floor as she stepped into Blackwood Enterprises. Her spine was stiff, her chin lifted high as if the weight of her heartbreak hadn’t crushed her the night before. Killian’s betrayal was still fresh in her mind. The image of Celeste standing beside him, her fingers possessively gripping his sleeve, replayed like a cruel joke. He had lied. Lied about the engagement being over. Lied about wanting Isla in any way that mattered. Yet, here she was. She had convinced herself that she was here for closure—for control over her own narrative. But deep down, a part of her knew she was drawn to the flame, even though she had already been burned. The receptionist looked startled as Isla stormed past her desk without so much as a glance. She didn’t need an appointment. She was his wife—secret or not. She had every right to demand answers. The doors to Killian’s office were shut, but that didn’t deter her. With a firm push, she burst inside, her pulse ha
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The evening air was thick with unspoken words as Isla sat in the dimly lit library of the Blackwood estate. The fire crackled softly in the background, casting flickering shadows along the mahogany bookshelves. She had buried herself in a book, hoping that the fictional world would offer some solace from the chaos of her reality, but her mind kept drifting back to Killian. The way he had kissed her. The way he had pulled away. The way he had shattered whatever fragile understanding had begun to form between them. She hated him for it. And she hated herself for letting him affect her so deeply. A sharp knock at the door startled her. Before she could respond, the door creaked open, revealing the one person she was trying to avoid. Killian. He stepped inside, his imposing presence filling the room instantly. Dressed in a tailored black suit, his stormy blue eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. There was something different about him tonight—som
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The tension in the Blackwood estate was suffocating, an invisible force pressing against Isla’s chest as she paced the length of her bedroom. Sleep had been impossible, her mind a tangled mess of emotions and memories. Killian’s words from earlier echoed in her head, leaving her restless and on edge. *You think I don’t want you? You think I don’t fight every damn day to keep my hands off you?* Her stomach twisted at the memory, at the raw hunger in his voice, the way his fingers had ghosted against her cheek before he had shut himself off again. It was maddening—the way he ignited something inside her only to douse it in cold indifference moments later. A sudden knock on her door made her freeze. For a brief second, she debated ignoring it. But deep down, she already knew who it was. Taking a deep breath, she strode toward the door and pulled it open. Killian stood there, dressed in another perfectly tailored suit, though his tie was loosened, his top button undone. His eyes,
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The heavy silence that stretched between them was deafening. Isla’s breath came in shallow bursts as she locked eyes with Killian, trying to read the emotions swirling beneath the surface of his cold exterior. But Killian Blackwood was an enigma, a man who had mastered the art of hiding his true feelings behind a carefully curated mask. Yet tonight, standing in the dim glow of the Blackwood estate, there was a shift. A crack in his armor. And Isla wasn’t sure if she was ready for what lay beneath. Killian took a slow step forward, his towering presence making the air between them thick with tension. Isla clenched her hands into fists at her sides, willing herself to remain unaffected, but her traitorous body reacted to him in ways she wished it wouldn’t. “You should go inside,” he murmured, his voice carrying an edge of restraint. She lifted her chin defiantly. “Why? So you can keep running from whatever this is?” His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he was on the
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The city skyline stretched endlessly before Isla as she stood on the balcony of the Blackwood estate, her fingers gripping the railing so tightly her knuckles turned white. The night breeze carried the faint scent of rain, cool against her skin, but nothing could cool the fire raging inside her. Killian had left her raw, exposed, and for the first time in her life, powerless. She had never allowed anyone to have such an effect on her, but here she was—twisting and unraveling beneath his touch, his words, his cold, distant gaze that somehow burned her more than any flame ever could. "You should be careful standing out here alone," a deep voice drawled from behind her. Isla stiffened, her heartbeat quickening as she turned to find Killian leaning against the doorway. He was dressed in his usual impeccably tailored suit, the black-on-black combination doing nothing to soften the sharpness of his features. His piercing blue eyes studied her, unreadable yet intense, as if he was analyz
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The tension in the Blackwood estate had become suffocating, an invisible war waged behind cold gazes and unspoken words. Isla had always thought that pain came in screams, in shattered glass and torn apologies. But this—this slow, agonizing silence—was worse. Killian had returned to his usual ways, burying himself in work, ignoring her presence except when absolutely necessary. Celeste, ever the viper, had taken full advantage of his emotional distance, draping herself over him like a prized possession.Isla refused to let them see her break. But every time she walked into a room and saw them together, it took everything in her to keep her emotions in check. One evening, she found herself in the grand dining hall, where Killian sat at the head of the table, reviewing documents with his usual impassive expression. Celeste sat beside him, sipping from a glass of wine, her eyes dancing with mischief as she watched Isla take a seat across from them. The tension in the air was so thick it
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The night was thick with tension, the air charged with something neither of them dared to name. Isla sat on the edge of the leather couch in the grand Blackwood estate, her hands curled into fists against her thighs. Killian stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out into the city skyline, his posture rigid, his jaw clenched. She had come here for answers, but all she had received were half-truths and empty reassurances. And she was tired—so damn tired—of pretending that things between them were anything but a toxic cycle of push and pull.“Are you going to keep ignoring me, Killian?” Her voice was sharp, laced with frustration. “Or are you finally going to tell me the truth?”Killian exhaled slowly, turning just enough to look at her. His stormy gray eyes flickered with something unreadable before he masked it behind his usual indifference. “What truth do you think you’re owed, Isla?”Her blood boiled. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like I’m some naive idiot who doesn’t see what’
Last Updated : 2025-03-16
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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For a few fleeting days, the world stilled around Killian Blackwood and Isla Carter.They settled into a rhythm that was fragile but real — a rhythm built of whispered vows and lingering touches, of cautious smiles and hands brushing accidentally-on-purpose.It wasn't ideal.There were still shadows, still wounds not quite scarred over.But it was real.It was theirs.And that was enough.Until Marcus came back.This time, he did not come quietly. This time, he came to destroy.---It started with a headline. Killian had just stepped into the entrance of the shelter when he heard the buzz — biting whispers, horrified gasps. Janine rushed to him, phone outstretched, her face pale. "You need to see this," she whispered, shaking. Killian took the phone. The article stared back at him, the bold letters screaming:**"Blackwood's Dirty Secrets: From Criminal Empire to Philanthropist Fraud"**He read the words once. Then again. And again.Each sentence was a knife.Each accusation meti
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The glow of the fundraiser still warm in Isla Carter's memory the next morning, she came into the small office of the shelter, an armful of paperwork in her arms.Her cheeks burned even now as she recalled the kiss — their kiss — amid a sea of onlookers. She hadn't cared who might see.For the first time in many years, Isla could hope without terror tightening its grip on her throat.Killian Blackwood was transforming into the man she needed.Maybe, just maybe, they had a hope of forever.She put down the papers and started to put them in order, humming a tune to herself. The office was unusually silent on a Monday morning, but she wrote that off as post-event exhaustion.It was only when she listened in to the strained, hurried words behind the door that she stopped.Janine's voice. Taut. Concerned.A different voice — gruffer, lower. Male.And Killian's voice — hot, tight.Isla's gaze grew darker and took a step toward the door.The moment she pushed it a little way open, she listen
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The next morning, Isla Carter woke to the smell of coffee drifting through her small flat.For a moment, she lay still, eyes closed, letting the warmth of it seep into her bones.It had been a while since she woke up feeling anything like peace.When at last she opened her eyes and moved into the kitchen, Killian Blackwood was waiting for her — his back to her, shirt sleeves rolled up, pouring two mismatched mugs with coffee.It was this small, ordinary moment. This brutally normal thing.And it hit her smack in the middle of her chest.This might be real.This might be them.Killian turned at the sound of her footsteps and smiled — a tentative, uncertain smile that twisted her heart in torture."Morning," he offered, holding out a mug.She took it, their hands touching, a spark of electricity shooting up her arm."Morning," she whispered in return.They stood there for a moment, sipping coffee, the silence comfortable.But Isla knew that it couldn't stay this easy forever.Last night
Shattered Vows Chapter 91
The next morning, it had stopped raining, but the city was shrouded in a thick fog, as if the world itself was catching its breath.Isla Carter stood in her window, holding a mug of steaming coffee between her hands, looking out at the gray skyline.The midnight conversation with Killian Blackwood still ran through her head, as vivid as if it had just happened.His cracked voice.His soaked body at her doorstep.His promise: *I'll wait forever if I have to.*She wasn't sure if she was ready to pardon him yet.But she did know this — she couldn't ignore him either.Her phone on the counter rang.Her heart skipped a beat.A message.**Killian Blackwood:**> *There's something I have to show you. No pressure. If you want to see it, I'll be at 345 Lennox Street at noon. If not. I'll get it.*Isla stared at the note for a moment, stomach twisting with nerves.She should leave it alone.She should stand up for herself.And yet. her fingers seemed to act of their own accord, typing out two b
