Chapter 3

BILLIONAIRE ADRIAN VALE WEDS ISLA NORGAN IN PRIVATE CEREMONY

From Tragedy to Romance: How Love Saved the Morgan Heiress

Vale's Generous Act: Taking In Disgraced Family Through Marriage

Isla scrolled through article after article on her phone, each one more sickening than the last. Photos of her and Adrian leaving the courthouse, when had someone even taken those? her face blurred with tears they were now calling "happy," his hand on her back they were spinning as "protective."

The comments were worse.

They called her a gold digger, framed her as a gold digger and how lucky she was that Adrian still married her despite her family crime cases.

Isla nearly dropped her phone. Adrian stood in her doorway, because knocking apparently was optional when you owned someone.

"They made my family look like victims." She hated how her voice shook. "We were criminals yesterday. Today we're a tragic love story."

"Yesterday you were useless." He draped the garment bag he was holding over her chair. "Today you're sympathetic. Tomorrow you'll be irrelevant. That's how this works."

"That's how you work." Isla stood up, phone held tight in her fist. "Controlling the narrative. Making everyone think you're some kind of hero instead of..."

"Instead of what?" He turned, eyebrow raised. "Instead of the man keeping your father in a private hospital room? Paying for round-the-clock care? Ensuring your mother has access to the treatment she needs?"

The words hit like slaps. True and and, she couldn't reply.

"We've got a charity gala," Adrian continued, moving to her window, adjusting the curtains she'd deliberately left closed. "Saturday night. Our first public appearance as a married couple."

Her stomach dropped. "Am not going."

"It's not a request." He glanced back. "It's by seven PM. Car leaves at six-thirty."

"I'm not going..."

"Yes. You are." He said firmly. "You'll smile. Look grateful. Play the part of the rescued princess." His eyes locked on hers. "And you won't embarrass me."

Isla laughed, sharp and bitter. "Or what? You'll lock me in my room as usual? What else you got?"

Adrian crossed the distance between them in three steps. Stopped close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and terrifying.

"Or your father's medical care gets downgraded to state minimum." He let that sink in. "No private room. No specialists. No experimental treatments. Just whatever medical care covers for a vegetative stroke patient with a criminal record." His head tilted slightly. "Try me."

The floor fell out from under her.

He wasn't bluffing. She could see it in his eyes. He'd do it. Wouldn't even blink.

"You're a monster," she whispered.

He stepped back, adjusting his cuffs like they'd been discussing dinner plans. "Stylist arrives tomorrow at nine. Cooperate."

He left.

Isla sank onto her bed and tried to remember how to breathe.

The stylist was a tiny woman named Lisa who spoke in rapid-fire French-accented English and treated Isla like a mannequin.

"Arms up. Turn. No, other way. Stop slouching."

The dress was beautiful in the way things in the way things in museums were, stunning, completely untouchable, not meant for actual human use. Midnight blue slik that clung everywhere, open back, slit up the thigh.

Isla stared at herself in the mirror and saw a stranger.

"Jewelry." Lisa held out a box. Diamond earrings. Matching necklace. All selected by Adrian of course, because God forbid he makes a single choice about her own body.

"No." Isla turned to her own jewelry box, the one thing that they'd brought for my old life. Inside was her grandmother's pearl necklace and matching hearing earrings. "Am wearing these." 

Lisa's eyes went wide. "But Monsieur Vale specifically..."

"I don't care what he specifically anything." Isla fastened the necklace, meeting her own eyes in the mirror. "This is my body. I'm wearing what I want."

Lisa looked like she was watching a car crash in slow motion but said nothing.

Adrian noticed immediately. He was waiting in the foyer when Isla came downstairs, looking way more handsome than usual in a custom tuxedo that probably cost more than a car.

His jaw tightened. "Those aren't what I selected." 

"Wow you're observant." Isla reached the bottom step, lifting her chin. "I changed my mind." 

"Go change." He's voice was barely controlled.

"No." Isla eyes met his gaze.

They stared at each other, felt standoff in the foyer, driver waiting outside, clock ticking.

"It's my body," Isla said quietly. "Or did you buy that too?"

"It's my reputation. My event. My associates." He took a step closer. "Wear what I selected or we don't leave."

"Then I guess we're not leaving."

Adrian pulled out his phone. Typed something and hit sent.

Thirty seconds later, Lisa appeared from wherever she'd been hiding, carrying the diamond jewelry, looking terrified.

"Monsieur..."

"Put them on her." Adrian's voice was cold.

Isla's hands tightened. "You can't just...." 

"I can." He gestured to Lisa. "Either you change them, or she does. Your choice." 

The humiliation burned through her chest. She could refuse, make a scene. But then what? He'd already proven he'd destroy her father's care without blinking. What else would he take?

With shaking hands, Isla removed her grandmother's pearls. And let Lisa fasten the cold diamonds around her throat like a collar.

Adrian watched the entire thing, expression unreadable.

"Better," he said. Then offered his arm like they were actually a couple instead of captor and captive. "Shall we?"

Camera flashes exploded the moment they stepped out of the car. Adrian's hand found her waist, possessive grip disguised as affection, and never left. Steering her through crowds, holding her to his side, constant physical claim that looked romantic but felt like ownership.

"Smile," he murmured against her ear, lips brushing her temple for the cameras. "You're madly in love, remember?"

Isla smiled. Felt her face crack with it.

Everyone wanted to meet the tragic heiress, the fallen princess, the girl lucky enough to be saved. They touched her arm, air-kissed her cheeks, said things like "you poor dear" while their eyes sized her dress, her jewelry, calculating her worth.

Adrian's hand never left her body. Constant contact that announced mine in a language everyone understood.

A reporter appeared out of nowhere with a microphone and a fake smile. "Isla! How does it feel to go from scandal to fairy tale?"

Isla at this point wanted to scream. Wanted to run. Wanted to tell ecru exactly what this fairy tale actually cost 

Instead, she felt Adrian's fingers tighten on her waist.

"Lucky." The word felt like it could burn her throat. "I feel very lucky."

Adrian squeezed her waist. She could tell if it was a warning or approval. 

They left early, Adrian citing morning meetings, pulling her away from conversations mid-sentence because he could, because she was his to move around like furniture.

The car ride home was suffocating. Leather seats and tinted windows and silence so thick it had weight.

"You did well." Adrian's voice cut through the quiet.

"Yeah whatever." Isla kept her eyes on the window, watching the city blur into suburbs into the long driveway leading to her prison.

She dug her nails into her palms and counted seconds until the car stopped.

The moment it did, Isla was out of it, heels clicking across the tiles, slamming her door hard enough to shake the frame.

She stood in the center of her room, hands shaking, feeling like she might explode.

Then she saw it.

A gift box on her bed. It was White. Wrapped with a silver ribbon.

Her hands trembled as she opened it.

Inside: her grandmother's necklace and earrings. The ones she'd wanted to wear. The ones he'd forced her to remove.

No note. Just the jewelry and a small card in handwriting she recognized.

One word: No.

Something inside Isla snapped.

She grabbed the box and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall, jewelry scattering, pearls rolling across hardwood.

She didn't care.

Didn't care about anything except the rage burning through her chest, the humiliation, the helplessness...

Isla collapsed onto her bed and pressed her palms against her eyes until she saw stars.