The Deal

The Grand Ballroom of the Armitage Hotel glittered with excess. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, strings of violins filled the whole air, and champagne flowed like water. The annual Blackwell Investors Gala wasn’t just a social event, it was war dressed in silk and diamonds.

Isla Wilde stepped onto the marble floor like a regal storm in velvet.

She wore obsidian. A gown that clung to her curves with lethal elegance, slit high on one side, her dark hair pulled back into a knot so sharp it could’ve cut glasses. Her blood-red lips, storm-grey eyes. Untouchable and Unforgiving like a Rebel.

Heads turned towards her. Whispers followed her like perfume.

Across the room, Lucian felt her before he saw her.

He was dressed in his usual armor, tailored black suit, icy composure, a scotch in hand. But his grip faltered the moment she entered. She hadn't come to blend in with the people here. She came to conquer. To rule.

Their eyes locked together.

One second too long. The string quartet hit a crescendo.

And then a voice boomed in.

“Elan Vogue’s founder,” one investor murmured. “She’s stunning in person.”

“And she’s got Mr. Stone wrapped around her finger,” another replied. “Blackwell better watch his throne.”

Lucian moved toward her through the crowd like a panther stalking prey.

Isla, of course, didn’t flinch. She turned away before he reached her and greeted Leo Stone, who stood with two CEOs, already charming the whole room with a captivating smile.

“Isla,” Leo smiled, offering his hand. “You’re the most dangerous woman here tonight.”

She accepted his hand but didn’t smile. “Dangerous…hmm.”

Lucian interrupted before Leo could reply.

“Stone.” His voice was low, sharp.

Leo turned lazily. “Lucian. Beautiful party. I see you brought tension as your plus one. You like roaming around with extra baggage, don't you”

Lucian ignored him. His eyes were on Isla. “May I have a word with you?”

Isla looked at him like he’d asked for her blood.

“I’m here to do business. Not revive old and buried memories.”

Leo raised a brow, amused. “Should I step away or stay in case one of you throws a glass on him?”

“You should go,” Isla said to Leo softly. “Lucian and I are very good at public drama.”

Leo gave a slow, deliberate nod and walked off but not before brushing his hand along Isla’s lower back.

It was lile a warning. A claim of Lucian, on Isla.

Lucian’s jaw tightened. “You enjoy provoking me, Isla?”

“I’m not here for you,” she said. “But if I were, you’d already be on fire.”

---

They moved to a quieter corner of the ballroom near the art gallery installation, black and white portraits of legacy were stuck in the walls, frozen in time.

Lucian leaned in, his voice like a steel-wrapped silk. “The merger will proceed, Isla. But you’re pushing my boundaries.”

Isla sipped her champagne. “Boundaries only matter if you intend to respect them. Don't you know?”

“You were never this cutthroat.”

“You never gave me a reason to be soft.”

Lucian flinched.

Her words hit him like knives.

“This gala,” she continued, “is just a circus. We’re all dressed up, smiling for shareholders, while the real deals happen in the shadows. In the darkness.”

“Then let’s make a deal.”

She tilted her head.

Lucian stepped closer. “I will stop resisting the merger. You stop dragging our past into the boardroom.”

Isla laughed quietly. “Oh, Lucian. You think I need your approval?”

He didn’t answer her.

Her voice dropped, laced with ice. “I built an empire without your name. Without your money. Without your protection. Don’t insult me with a pathetic deal.”

“You came back to destroy me.”

“I came back to remind you that I survived. Alone”

Lucian looked at her and for the first time, saw the fire beneath her calm. The rage buried beneath her eyes.

She stepped even closer, and her breath was warm against his cheek as she whispered.

“Don’t touch me unless you’re ready to burn in the fire.”

And with that, she walked away.

---

Later That Night – Headlines Bleed like Gold

The paparazzi caught them.

One photo.

One second.

One moment

Lucian and Isla, standing too close in the gallery wing. His head tilted toward hers. Her lips slightly parted.

The air between them crackled.

By morning, it was everywhere.

“Old Flames? Blackwell and Wilde Heat Up Gala.”

“Revenge Romance or Business act?”

#Islian was trending in the whole internet

Elena barged into Isla’s office with a tablet. “You broke the internet.”

Isla, seated in her glass office with an espresso, she didn’t even blink.

“Let them talk.”

“You looked like you were about to kiss him,” Elena muttered. “Was it... real?”

Isla set her cup down, voice calm.

“I was about to set him on fire.”

---

That Same Night – Blackwell Tower

Lucian stood in his office, staring at the photo.

Something about it made his chest ache.

The world saw chemistry. Lust and Power.

But he saw the ghost of what they used to be.

The space between their mouths. The anger in her eyes. The grief neither of them had ever spoken about.

His phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

He picked it up, expecting another tabloid notification.

Instead, it was a message.

“Your child is alive.”

Lucian froze.

He reread the words once. Twice. Thrice.

Your child is alive.

It couldn’t be.

He staggered back, dropping the phone onto his desk. The past slammed into him with the force of a train. Isla’s painfuk sobs. The white hospital sheets. The cold, detached doctor explaining fetal distress. Claire’s smooth voice roamed in his mind, “You never saw the body. You were away, Lucian. It was better that way.”

His fingers trembled for a second.

No name. No number. Just that single sentence.

Was it a sick joke?

Or the beginning of something far darker?

He looked back at the photo of Isla.

And this time, it wasn't a desire he felt.

It was dreadful. Haunting.

Some truths don’t stay buried.

And some lies were never lies to begin with.

---