Breaking the walls

Isabella’s POV

I had forty-eight hours to decide.

Forty-eight hours to either save my father’s company—or protect what little was left of my own dignity.

The hours bled into each other, filled with restless pacing, whispered prayers, and Ethan’s sweet little voice asking why Mommy looked so sad. Every time I tucked him into bed and brushed his curls off his forehead, my chest tightened until it hurt to breathe.

Because if I agreed to Alexander’s terms, I wasn’t just gambling with my own heart. I was gambling with the secret I had kept hidden for five long years.

And Alexander Knight was not a man who forgave secrets.

When the second night fell, I knew my time was up.

My father had been coughing all evening, his hands trembling as he tried to steady a teacup. He pretended not to notice me watching him, but the gray pallor of his skin betrayed everything. He was crumbling, just like the empire he had built.

I couldn’t let it all collapse—not when I had the power to stop it. Even if the price was my freedom.

So I dressed in the black dress I wore when I needed armor, kissed Ethan’s sleeping forehead, and whispered a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep: I’ll protect you. No matter what it takes.

Then I walked into the lion’s den.

---

Knight Industries towered over the city, glittering with cold light, sharp angles cutting into the sky. As the car dropped me at the entrance, my stomach churned. Every instinct screamed at me to turn back, but my legs carried me forward.

The elevator ride to the top floor felt like an execution. My reflection in the glass walls looked pale, too fragile, but there was steel in my eyes. I needed that steel.

When the doors slid open, his scent hit me first—expensive cologne, warm leather, and something purely him.

Alexander stood by the massive windows of his office, the city sprawling beneath him like his personal kingdom. His suit jacket was gone, sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing the strong forearms I remembered too well. His presence filled the room, dangerous and magnetic.

He turned when I entered, and the corners of his mouth curved into something between a smirk and a victory.

“You’re late,” he said.

His voice was deeper than I remembered, a velvet blade slicing through me.

“Maybe I changed my mind,” I shot back, though my voice quivered despite my best efforts.

He moved toward me, slow, deliberate, every step radiating control. “But you didn’t.”

I took a step back, my spine pressing against the glass wall. The city lights flickered behind me, but it was his eyes—those storm-gray eyes—that held me captive.

“Say it,” he murmured, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body.

My throat went dry. I hated him. I hated how much power he still had over me. But my father’s weary face and Ethan’s innocent smile flashed in my mind.

“Fine,” I whispered. “I’ll marry you.”

The words burned as they left my mouth.

His gaze darkened, triumph flashing there. Before I could move, his hand caught my chin, tilting my face up. His mouth descended on mine.

The kiss stole the air from my lungs.

It wasn’t tender—it was a claim. Fierce, demanding, a reminder that I was stepping back into a fire I had barely escaped once. My hands flew to his chest, pushing, resisting—but the solid heat of him beneath the fabric made my body tremble for an entirely different reason.

I should have shoved him away. Instead, my fingers curled into his shirt.

His lips deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing mine until the fight bled out of me. My knees weakened, and his arm slid around my waist, pulling me against him.

The years melted away. The anger, the heartbreak, the distance—they all crumbled under the heat that had never died between us.

“Alexander,” I gasped, breaking free for a breath.

His forehead pressed against mine, his voice low and rough. “You’re mine, Isabella. You always were.”

I should have denied it. I should have reminded him of all the ways he had destroyed me. But the words tangled on my tongue, lost in the storm of sensation.

---

I don’t remember the elevator ride up to his penthouse, only the feel of his hands never leaving me, the brush of his lips against my ear, the way he whispered my name like a vow and a curse.

By the time we reached his suite, I was unraveling.

The moment the door closed, he pinned me gently against it, his mouth on mine again—slower this time, coaxing, coaxing, until I was dizzy. His hands trailed down my sides, igniting fire with every touch.

I gasped when his lips found the sensitive spot beneath my ear. “Alexander…”

He froze, pulling back just enough to search my face. His eyes burned, but his voice was steady. “Tell me no, Isabella. Say no, and I’ll stop.”

Silence stretched between us, thick with everything unsaid. My body screamed for him. My heart screamed against him.

But the word never came.

Instead, a soft whimper escaped me, betraying me.

That was all it took.

He lifted me easily, carrying me to the bedroom as if I weighed nothing. He laid me down against the silk sheets, his eyes never leaving mine, his hands tracing reverent paths as though he was rediscovering sacred ground.

Every touch unraveled me. Every kiss sent me spiraling deeper into the abyss I had promised myself I’d never fall into again.

I tried to tell myself this was just physical, just a mistake, but the way he whispered my name, the way his hands trembled slightly as if I might vanish—it felt like more. Too much more.

And when the final barrier broke, it wasn’t hate that consumed me.

It was longing.

It was surrender.

It was the terrifying truth that no matter how much I had tried to bury it, Alexander Knight had always owned me.

---

The city was bathed in soft gold when I opened my eyes.

I blinked against the morning light, the silk sheets tangled around me, my body sore in ways that reminded me of everything I had given last night. My heart clenched as the memories rushed back—the heat, the surrender, the way I had let myself be undone in his arms.

Shame and longing twisted inside me, battling for dominance.

Beside me, Alexander lay on his side, one arm draped across my waist as if even in sleep he refused to let me go. His face was softer like this, the sharp edges of control smoothed away. I stared at him for too long, hating how peaceful he looked, hating how a part of me wanted to stay right here.

I should have slipped away. I should have dressed, called a cab, and never looked back.

But I didn’t.

I lay still, trapped by the weight of his arm, by the weight of what I had done, by the crushing realization that I had crossed a line I could never uncross.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I reached for it, careful not to wake him. The screen lit up with a photo—Ethan, grinning, holding up a finger-painted drawing. Miss you Mommy scribbled across the page.

My chest tightened until I thought I might shatter.

I turned to look at Alexander again, his gray eyes fluttering open as if he could sense my turmoil even in sleep.

His gaze locked onto me, and a slow, knowing smile curved his lips. He leaned in, brushing a kiss against my temple.

“Good morning, Mrs. Knight,” he murmured.

The words sent a shiver through me, equal parts thrill and terror.

Because as much as I wanted to deny it, as much as I wanted to run…

I was his again.

And I didn’t know if I would ever escape.