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Chapter 38: The Breaking Point
Last Updated:
2025-03-19 11:02:47
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Shattered Vows Chapter 39: The Weight of Regret
Killian sat in the dimly lit study of his penthouse, a glass of whiskey in his hand. The ice had long melted, leaving behind a watered-down bitterness that matched the taste in his mouth. The city skyline stretched before him, dazzling with a million lights, but none of it felt real. Not without her.His mind replayed the moment Isla had walked away. The way she had looked at him—like he was nothing. Like he was already dead to her.He had told himself he didn’t care. That he had done the right thing by keeping her at arm’s length. But the hollow ache in his chest told him otherwise.Killian clenched his jaw and threw back the rest of his drink. He had spent years perfecting the art of indifference, mastering control over every aspect of his life. Yet, for the first time, he felt utterly powerless. He had built walls around his emotions, but Isla had shattered them without even trying. Now, all that remained was an emptiness that no amount of whiskey could drown.A sharp knock on the
Last Updated : 2025-03-20Shattered Vows Chapter 40: A Battle of Wills
Isla stood at the departure gate, her heart pounding as the announcement for her flight echoed through the terminal. Her fingers tightened around the handle of her suitcase as she took a deep breath. This was it. She was finally breaking free.A part of her had foolishly believed he wouldn’t come. That he would let her go, let her slip away into the unknown. But as she turned toward the exit, her stomach dropped.Killian Blackwood stood at the entrance of the terminal, his tall, imposing figure radiating authority. His jaw was clenched, his dark eyes locked onto her like a predator who had finally found his prey. The sight of him sent a shiver down her spine.People moved around him, yet he remained still, his presence dominating the space as if time itself had paused for him. The moment their eyes met, Isla knew—he wasn’t here to say goodbye.He was here to take her back.She forced herself to move, to keep walking toward the gate, but she had barely taken three steps before a hand c
Last Updated : 2025-03-20Shattered Vows Chapter 41: The Trap Tightens
The air inside Killian’s office was thick with tension. He stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back turned to Celeste as he stared blankly at the city skyline. Isla’s words haunted him, looping in his mind like a cruel melody he couldn’t silence.I refuse to be nothing.She had walked away from him, and he had let her. But the ache in his chest hadn’t faded. Instead, it had grown, festering into something unrecognizable. And now, here he was, drowning in regret while Celeste stood behind him, her presence suffocating.“I don’t know why you look so miserable, Killian,” Celeste’s voice was smooth, taunting. “You made your choice.”Killian clenched his jaw. He didn’t respond.Celeste sighed and walked closer, placing a manicured hand on his shoulder. “Isla was never right for you. She was a passing distraction. You and I, we belong together. Our families expect it. The world expects it.”He shrugged her off and turned to face her, his icy blue eyes piercing through her facade. “T
Last Updated : 2025-03-20Shattered Vows Chapter 42: The Trap Tightens
Killian had always been a man of control, but as he sat in his office, staring blankly at the stack of contracts before him, he realized he had lost it. Isla’s absence gnawed at him, a festering wound he refused to acknowledge. Yet here he was, buried in work, pretending she hadn’t become the only thought that occupied his mind.A knock at the door disrupted his brooding. He didn’t bother looking up as Damon entered.“She’s waiting for you,” Damon announced, his voice laced with hesitation.Killian exhaled sharply. He knew exactly who ‘she’ was. Celeste.He rose, straightening his suit, and walked out of his office. As he approached the private lounge where Celeste waited, a familiar sense of exhaustion crept into his bones. He had known Celeste for years, but every moment with her felt like a performance.The doors swung open, revealing Celeste lounging on the velvet couch, a glass of champagne in hand. She looked radiant, as always—every strand of her golden hair in place, her desig
Last Updated : 2025-03-20Shattered Vows Chapter 43: The Breaking Point
Isla sat in the grand library of the Blackwood estate, her fingers tracing the rim of the untouched cup of tea before her. The storm outside mirrored the turmoil within her, thunder rolling across the sky like an omen. She had thought she was past this pain—past the way her heart clenched every time Killian's name came up. But the last few days had proven her wrong.She had been a fool to think that he would ever put her above his power, above his twisted loyalty to Celeste. Even after everything, even after the undeniable tension between them, he had still chosen to stay by Celeste’s side."You should eat something," Evelyn, the housekeeper, urged gently as she placed a fresh plate of food before Isla.Isla gave a hollow smile. "I’m not hungry."Evelyn sighed, concern lining her face. "You barely sleep, you barely eat. This is no way to live, dear.""I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine." Isla’s voice was clipped, a sharp contrast to the dull ache in her chest.Before Evelyn could
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Isla stormed down the dimly lit hallway of the Blackwood estate, her heart pounding against her ribs like a war drum. Every step she took felt heavier, like the weight of her emotions was dragging her down. She needed to get away—from this house, from Killian, from the suffocating grip he had on her life. The air felt thick, suffocating, as if the walls themselves were closing in on her, warning her that no matter how far she ran, she could never truly escape him.But as she reached the grand staircase, a chilling voice stopped her in her tracks."Going somewhere?"Killian’s voice was smooth, controlled, but Isla could hear the tension beneath it. Slowly, she turned to face him. He stood at the top of the stairs, his broad frame illuminated by the dim chandelier light. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—those stormy, conflicted blue eyes—were locked onto her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine."I don’t owe you an explanation," Isla shot back, straightening her
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Isla sat in front of the vanity mirror in her room, her reflection staring back at her like a ghost of the woman she once was. The fire in her eyes hadn’t dimmed, but it flickered beneath layers of exhaustion and heartbreak. Killian had made it clear—he wasn’t letting her go.Not as his wife. Not as the mother of his child. Not as anything but a possession locked within the confines of this house.A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts."Come in," she said, her voice devoid of emotion.The door creaked open, and to her dismay, Celeste stepped inside, her usual smirk plastered on her face. She was draped in an elegant, deep-red dress that clung to her body like a second skin, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder in perfect waves."Poor Isla," Celeste cooed, shutting the door behind her. "Trapped like a little bird in a gilded cage."Isla met her gaze through the mirror, refusing to react. "Did you come here to gloat?"Celeste chuckled, moving closer, her heels cli
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The Blackwood estate was suffocating. Each hallway, each grandly decorated room, each polished floorboard felt like another part of Isla’s prison. It didn’t matter how luxurious it was—golden cages were still cages. And she was trapped.After her last confrontation with Killian, sleep had eluded her. She had spent the entire night pacing her bedroom, restless, furious, desperate for some kind of escape. But every path led back to the same bitter truth—Killian wasn’t letting her go.And Celeste was doing everything in her power to ensure she stayed in her place.A knock at the door jolted Isla from her thoughts. Before she could respond, it creaked open, and to her surprise, it wasn’t Killian.It was Dante.Killian’s right-hand man. His enforcer. A man as ruthless as he was unreadable."Boss wants to see you," Dante said, his voice flat as he leaned against the doorframe.Isla’s stomach twisted, but she kept her expression neutral. "Tell him I’m not interested."Dante smirked. "Not exac
Last Updated : 2025-03-22
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Shattered Vows Chapter 103 - Deciphering the Silence
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
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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
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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
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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
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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
