The cold evening breeze bit into Islaโs skin as she stood by the penthouse window, her arms wrapped around herself. The city lights sprawled beneath her, glittering like a sea of false promises. Despite the warmth inside the lavish apartment, she felt frozen to her core. The argument with Killian earlier had drained her, leaving nothing but frustration and pain in its wake.Her phone buzzed on the glass coffee table. A number she didnโt recognize flashed on the screen. Isla hesitated before answering, dread curling in her stomach.โHello?โ Her voice was wary.โMs. Sinclair, this is Attorney Graham. I have urgent legal matters regarding your marriage to Mr. Blackwood. He has issued a formal contract amendment. I need you to come to my office immediately.โHer breath hitched. Legal matters? Killian was trying to formalize their arrangement again, treating their relationship as nothing more than a business transaction. A bitter laugh bubbled up in her throat. After everything, he still w
The silence in Islaโs apartment was deafening. She had locked the door behind her, resting her forehead against the wood as she tried to calm her racing heart. Her fingers trembled as she let out a slow breath, her mind still reeling from the confrontation with Killian.He had looked at her with something unspoken in his eyes, something that made her chest ache despite everything. But she couldnโt afford to be weak, not now. Not when he had made it perfectly clear that he saw her and their child as an obligation rather than a family.A knock on the door shattered her moment of solitude.Her stomach twisted. She knew who it was before she even turned around. Killian. He had followed her. Again.She closed her eyes, steeling herself, before unlocking the door and pulling it open. Killian stood there, looking just as controlled as ever, though his sharp gaze softened for a fraction of a second as he took her in. Then, just as quickly, the mask was back in place.โWhat do you want, Killia
(Isla steps into the grand ballroom, her heart pounding against her ribs. The event is one of the most prestigious gatherings of the year, and as much as she wants to disappear into the crowd, she knows she can't. Her presence has been requestedโno, demandedโby Killian. The air is thick with luxury, laughter, and the scent of expensive champagne. Women in glittering gowns and men in tailored suits float through the room, whispering and stealing glances in her direction.)(She swallows down the lump in her throat. She can feel the stares, hear the murmurs. But she doesnโt let it show. Instead, she keeps her chin high and her expression unreadable.)Celeste (smirking, voice dripping with venom): My, my. Look who decided to show up. You must be braver than I thought, Isla.(Isla turns slowly, finding Celeste standing before her in a crimson gown that clings to her figure like a second skin. Her eyes are alight with cruel amusement, and Isla immediately knows sheโs up to something.)Isla
The room was suffocating with the whispers of the elite. Isla could feel their gazes slicing into her like tiny, precise daggers. After Celesteโs public humiliation at the gala, she had hoped to retreat into obscurity, but the world wasnโt that forgiving.Killian had done nothing. Not a single word of defense, not a single gesture to shield her. The man who once claimed to protect her had stood idly by, letting the wolves feast on her reputation.The aftermath was brutal. The tabloids had a field day with the spectacle. Isla Sinclairโthe woman who had dared to step into Celeste DuPontโs path, the woman rumored to be carrying Killian Blackwoodโs childโwas branded a gold digger, a liar, a disgrace.But the worst part? Killianโs silence.That night, Isla lay awake in her penthouse, the cityโs lights flickering through her window. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to leave, to vanish before she was reduced to nothing.Meanwhile, across the city, Liam Caldwell sat in his office, sta
Isla stared at her phone long after she ended the call. The screen dimmed, but the weight of Killianโs voice still lingered in the air. Come home, he had said, as if it were that simple. As if he hadnโt just stood by and watched her world shatter at the hands of Celeste.She wasnโt going back. Not this time.Liam, who had been watching her closely, leaned against the counter, arms crossed. โSo, what now?โIsla lifted her gaze to him, her fingers tightening around the phone. โI need to fight back. I need to make sure Celeste and Killian both realize they canโt keep doing this to me.โLiam arched a brow. โAnd how do you plan on doing that?โFor the first time in weeks, a spark of determination lit up inside her. โI donโt know yet. But I refuse to be their pawn any longer.โLiam exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable. Then, after a beat, he nodded. โGood. Thatโs the woman I remember.โHis words made something tighten in her chest. She turned away, hugging her arms to herself
The morning sun filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Islaโs penthouse, casting golden hues over the living room. Despite its warmth, she felt cold. The weight of Killianโs call still lingered, the echo of his voice rattling through her mind.She had expected him to lash out, to throw accusations her way, but instead, he had simply said, โCome home.โ As if the words alone could undo the damage.Isla wrapped her arms around herself, standing by the window as the city stretched before her. Everything about Killian had always been complicated. He had never been a man of apologies or grand gestures. He was a force of natureโdangerous, unpredictable, and impossible to tame.And yet, she had tried.A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. For a moment, she hesitated. She wasnโt expecting anyone, and after last night, she wasnโt in the mood for surprises.Steeling herself, she opened the door.Liam stood there, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. โI thought y
Isla stared at her reflection in the mirror, her fingers gripping the cool marble countertop of her bathroom sink. The woman looking back at her seemed like a strangerโeyes hollowed with exhaustion, lips pressed into a tight line of barely contained anger and pain.Celeste had won. The world believed her lies, and Killian had done nothing to refute them. He had let Isla suffer while standing next to the woman who had orchestrated her public humiliation.She couldnโt let this continue.A sharp knock at her front door startled her. She wasnโt expecting anyone, and after everything that had happened, she wasnโt in the mood for visitors. Still, something told her she needed to face whatever awaited her on the other side.With slow, deliberate steps, she crossed the room and opened the door. Killian stood there, looking every bit the powerful man the world reveredโexcept for the tightness in his jaw and the storm raging in his eyes."Isla," he said, his voice a low, controlled growl.She d
The tension in the Blackwood estate was suffocating. Isla stood in the center of Killianโs grand study, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if to shield against the storm that was brewing between them. Killian stood a few feet away, his piercing gaze fixed on her, his jaw set in that cold, unrelenting manner that had once both fascinated and frustrated her.But tonight, she was done being fascinated. She was done with everything.โYouโre leaving?โ Killianโs voice was deceptively calm, but there was an undercurrent of something darker beneath it.Isla lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with a quiet determination. โYes.โA muscle ticked in his jaw. โWhere will you go?โโThatโs none of your concern.โKillian scoffed, running a hand through his dark hair. โNone of my concern?โ He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. โThatโs rich coming from you, considering how deep youโve buried yourself into my life.โโI buried myself?โ Isla repeated, her voice rising. โYou pulled me in, Killian. And
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, fiancรฉe," he whispered, voice low with sleep and love.She laughed, stretching out. "Morning, fiancรฉ."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 โ not one minute of it โ 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
For a few fleeting days, the world stilled around Killian Blackwood and Isla Carter.They settled into a rhythm that was fragile but real โ 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 โ 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
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 โ their kiss โ 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 โ gruffer, lower. Male.And Killian's voice โ 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
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 โ 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 โ 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
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 โ 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
Rain was still coming down on the city, sheeting the streets with a damp, mournful glow. Isla Carter slumped beside the big glass wall of her tiny rented studio, her knees to her chest, looking blankly out into the world beyond. Her tea had gone cold hours ago, sitting on the table.She hadn't replied to Killian Blackwood's previous attempts to reach out to her.Hundreds of messages. Voicemails, emails, even handwritten letters left on her doorstep โ all ignored.She didn't know if she was brave enough to see him again. She didn't trust him โ not entirely. Not yet.And the ache in her chest warned her that even one small mistake could destroy her for good this time.A sharp knock shattered her downward thoughts.Isla braced.She hadn't been expecting anyone. Her heart hammered pitifully. She crept quietly to the door and peered through the peephole.Of course.Killian.He stood there, dripping from the rain, a fistful of white lilies clutched tightly in one hand. His face was a map of
City lights twinkled in the weight of twilight, as though the horizon itself held bated breath. Killian Blackwood stood against the roof garden of the Carter Foundation, the wind tugging at his open coat, his expression impassive. The city raged beneath him, unaware of the storm brewing in one man's soul.Tonight was not one of pomp and circumstance. There were no fireworks, no red carpet, no over-the-top displays of riches. Tonight was raw, bare, and totally human. It was about truth. About redemption.Killian had sent the invitation to Isla Carter days before, a scribbled note in the bouquet of lilies she still refused to accept. But he knew she'd be there. He had caught it in the quiet between them, in how her eyes clung a beat longer on their last encounter, as if she heard words that he hadn't spoken yet.As she stepped onto the roof, her heels ticking quietly on the wooden deck, Killian turned lazily. The sight of her, in the gentle light of string lights swaying above them, too
The city hummed with its own rhythm, but for Isla Carter, it was all just a bit. softer. Quieter. It had been three days since she'd stood beside Killian Blackwood in the brightly lit community center and said the words she'd never been brave enough to say until that moment. "Maybe I'm still in love with you."Those words had changed everything. And nothing had been rushed. There were no grand statements or fireworks. No immediate talk of labels or planning. Just a slow rebuilding. And for once, Isla didn't feel like she needed to rush to get ahead of her emotions.She was in her bookstore again today. The scent of old paper and cinnamon coffee greeted her, and sunlight streamed through the windows, casting golden squares on the wooden floor. Customers browsed idly through the shelves, and her helper, Margo, waved as Isla entered."Morning, boss. You look. glowy," Margo teased.Isla smiled, her cheeks going pink. "It's the weather.""Okay, let's pretend it's not the sexy billionaire