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
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’
The night felt colder than usual, despite the city lights flickering in the distance, casting their golden glow through the towering glass windows of Isla’s apartment. She sat curled up on the edge of her bed, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, staring at the untouched phone on her nightstand. She had told herself she wouldn’t call him. That she wouldn’t be that girl anymore—the one who waited, the one who hoped.But Killian had a way of unraveling all her carefully built walls with nothing more than silence.A deep sigh escaped her lips as she stood, moving toward the window. The city stretched out before her, bustling and alive, yet she felt completely alone. Her fingers hovered over her phone before she shook her head and grabbed a glass of water instead, trying to drown the thoughts swirling in her mind.Meanwhile, across the city, Killian sat in his dimly lit office, his tie loosened, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. The amber liquid swirled lazily as he stared down at his
****The morning sun filtered through Isla’s curtains, casting a golden hue over her bedroom. But despite the warmth outside, she felt nothing but cold emptiness inside. She had barely slept, tossing and turning through the night, her mind filled with unanswered questions and lingering heartache.With a resigned sigh, she pushed the covers off and sat at the edge of the bed. Her fingers instinctively reached for her phone, but she froze before she could unlock it. Calling Killian again was pointless. She had tried, and he had ignored her.She wouldn’t let him reduce her to a desperate woman clinging to the remnants of a relationship that had never truly existed.A soft knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts. “Isla?”It was Elena. The moment Isla opened the door, her best friend stepped inside, scanning her face with concern. “You look awful.”Isla forced a small laugh. “Good morning to you too.”Elena frowned and shut the door behind her. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend everythi
The silence in the penthouse was deafening. Isla stood in the middle of the spacious living room, her hands clenched into fists as she struggled to regulate her breathing. The night had felt long, unbearably so, and exhaustion clung to her bones like an unshakable shadow. Her eyes flickered toward the door, half-expecting Killian to walk through it, but deep down, she knew better.She had spent the entire day drowning in the weight of her emotions. Every time she thought she had built enough walls to protect herself, he managed to shatter them with a single glance, a careless word. Tonight had been no different. Watching him with Celeste at the event had been a brutal reminder of her place in his life—an inconvenience, a mere obligation.A sharp knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She inhaled sharply, unsure whether she even wanted to face whoever was on the other side. But when the knocking persisted, she had no choice but to open it.Killian stood there, his suit slightly di
****The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of Isla’s bedroom, casting golden rays across the room. But the light did nothing to warm the cold dread settled in her stomach. Today was the day. Today, she was leaving.She had packed her bags the night before—just the essentials. A few clothes, her documents, and what little cash she had managed to stash away. Her heart pounded as she zipped the suitcase shut, her hands trembling. This was it. No more waiting. No more hoping. No more Killian Blackwood.A sharp knock on the door made her freeze.“Isla?” Elena's voice, soft and hesitant, drifted through the wood. “Are you awake?”Isla swallowed hard before responding. “Yeah, come in.”Elena entered, her eyes immediately falling on the packed suitcase by the bed. Her face paled. “You’re really doing this?”“I have to, Elena,” Isla whispered, forcing steel into her voice. “If I don’t leave now, I never will.”Elena closed the door behind her and walked over, grasping Isla’s hand
The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain from the night before. Isla sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her dress. Her mind was a storm of emotions—anger, frustration, and a deep, aching sadness that refused to fade no matter how much she tried to push it away.Killian had left her with no choice. His threats loomed over her like a dark cloud, a reminder that her freedom was nothing more than an illusion. She had tried to break away, to sever the toxic bond between them, but he had pulled her back with ruthless efficiency.Her eyes flickered to the envelope on her nightstand—the legal documents that outlined the consequences of breaching their agreement. It wasn’t just about money. Killian had the power to strip her of everything, to bury her under the weight of his influence.A sharp knock at the door jolted her from her thoughts."Isla," a familiar deep voice called from the other side. "Open the door."She swallowed hard, her
The tension in the penthouse was suffocating. Isla stood near the window, her arms wrapped around herself, staring at the glittering cityscape. The weight of Killian’s presence loomed behind her, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.“You can’t just walk away, Isla.”She scoffed, turning around with fire in her eyes. “Watch me.”Killian’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he stepped closer. “You think I’ll just let you disappear?”“I don’t care what you allow, Killian. I’m done.” Isla’s voice wavered, but her resolve didn’t. She had spent too long being a pawn in his twisted game of control and indifference. Not anymore.Killian took another step, his towering figure almost overwhelming, but she refused to shrink back. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t about me, Isla. It’s about the consequences.”She laughed bitterly. “Consequences? Like what, Killian? You threatening to destroy me in court? Using your power to make my life hell?”
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