MasukIsabella Carter never imagined she’d become a secret wife to a billionaire—especially not to Alexander Kingston, the ruthless and dangerously handsome CEO who sees marriage as nothing more than a business deal. Desperate to escape her stepmother’s schemes, Isabella agrees to a contract marriage, thinking she can remain invisible in Alexander’s world. But the longer she stays, the harder it becomes to ignore the fire between them—and the way his piercing blue eyes darken whenever she’s near. Just when she starts to believe their cold arrangement might turn into something real, a shocking truth is exposed—one that threatens to destroy everything. Now, Isabella must decide: Does she fight for a love that was never supposed to exist? Or walk away before she loses herself to the billionaire who was never meant to be hers?
Lihat lebih banyakAlexander’s Penthouse Morning The first blush of dawn spilled like liquid gold through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across polished marble and sleek glass. Outside, the city slowly shook off the last traces of night—horns soft in the distance, the hum of awakening life drifting upward like a whisper. But inside the penthouse, everything was still. Isabella stood alone in the kitchen, barefoot against the cool floor, wrapped in a silk robe that barely grazed her knees. It wasn’t hers. The scent clinging to it—clean, masculine, and unmistakably Alexander—wrapped around her like a second skin, far more intimate than she’d expected. The silk whispered with her every movement, a delicate contrast to the quiet storm settling in her chest. She held a mug of coffee between her hands, fingers wrapped tightly around the warmth as though it might anchor her. She brought it to her lips, but the taste barely registered. It wasn’t the bitterness of the brew that preoccu
ALEXANDER’S PENTHOUSE – NIGHT The city stretched far below like a blanket of molten light, skyscrapers glowing against the night sky. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, the world shimmered—cars threading like veins through the streets, people moving like stories unfolding one frame at a time. But inside, it was quiet. Timeless. A pocket of stillness untouched by the chaos below. Isabella hadn’t moved from the deep corner of the couch. The plush gray throw wrapped around her like armor she didn’t know she needed. Her bare feet were tucked beneath her, and her fingers were loosely knotted in the hem of the blanket. She stared straight ahead—at nothing and everything all at once. Her body was still, but her mind… her mind raced through a storm. Thoughts of Milan. Of Vincent Blackwell. Of the man who now sat across from her in a silence that said more than words ever could. Alexander returned from the kitchen with quiet purpose, the clink of porcelain soft in th
The sharp crack of gunfire ricocheted through the marble halls, each shot a brutal note in a collapsing symphony. At the top of the grand staircase, Vincent Blackwell stood still—watching his empire fall apart floor by floor. What had once been a monument to control was now a war zone. His gaze swept the carnage below. Cold. Calculated. But beneath the surface, fury burned. Not panic—wrath. The kind only a man forged by power and blood could feel as it all slipped away. Flashes of gunfire strobed through the corridor, illuminating chaos in brief, violent bursts. His men dropped fast—trained, armed, loyal—yet outmatched. Their bodies hit the polished floors with dull finality. Vincent’s pulse hammered. Not from fear. From rage. His kingdom wasn’t just under siege. It was being dismantled. Beside him, his head of security—massive, rattled—gripped the radio, voice tight. “We’re overrun! Southwest flank is down! Backup is—” Static cut him off. The words froze in the air as Vincent
LATER THAT NIGHT – SAFE HOUSE – SECRET MEETING ROOM The air was thick inside the dimly lit room, stale with the scent of old leather, dust, and the faint metallic tang of tension. The muted hum of the broken air conditioner filled the silence as Jason pushed open the door, his shadow stretching long across the floor. Heads turned. Alexander, Marcus, Dante, Nikolai, Damien—and Isabella. Jason stepped inside, his presence cutting through the heavy air like a blade. He caught Isabella’s eyes, just for a second. The quiet intensity there nearly stopped him in his tracks. She quickly looked away, but he’d seen enough—the worry she masked, the storm she carried for Charlotte. He closed the door behind him with a click that seemed to echo."Jason," Alexander said, voice low and commanding, "take a seat." Without hesitation, Jason crossed the room and sank into the empty chair beside Isabella. Papers littered the scarred table—maps, coded notes, surveillance reports—all of it a test


















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