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Chapter 39: The Weight of Regret
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2025-03-20 13:38:31
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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
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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
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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
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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
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The east wing of the Blackwood estate was as eerie as Isla had expected. Dust coated the antique furniture, and cobwebs clung to the corners of the high ceilings. The air was cold, untouched by warmth or life. The windows were large, but thick velvet curtains blocked out most of the light, making the place feel like a forgotten ghost town within the mansion’s walls.Killian wanted her to feel isolated.But Isla refused to break.She spent the first night curled up on the massive bed, unable to sleep. The silence was suffocating, pressing down on her like a heavy weight. She wasn’t sure what scared her more—the stillness of the room or the fact that, despite everything, part of her still ached for the man who had put her here.She kept replaying his words in her head. The threat, the possessiveness. And yet, beneath all of that, she had seen the flicker of something else. Something deeper. Regret? Guilt? She didn’t know.By the time the sun peeked through the curtains, she had barely s
Последнее обновление : 2025-03-22
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