All Chapters of Never meant to be: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Isabella -"You can hate me all you want, Isabella," he said, his jaw tightening. "But I’m not leaving you alone in this. Not now, not ever."I crossed my arms, my resolve wavering under the intensity of his gaze. "I don’t hate you, Logan," I said, my voice quieter than I intended. "But this—whatever this is—it’s complicated enough without you barging in like some white knight."His lips quirked into a humorless smile. "A white knight? I’m hardly that."I turned away, my fingers brushing against the edge of the couch as I tried to collect my thoughts. "I need to go to the police station to press charges against Carl," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "But you can’t come with me. It’ll raise eyebrows. People will talk."Logan stepped closer, his footsteps deliberate but soft. "I don’t care what people think, Isabella. Let them talk. Let them gossip. You can’t deny me a chance to make things right."I spun around to face him, anger and exasperation bubbling to the surface. "

Isabella -I had spent the past day buried under my own misery, shutting myself away while the world outside burned with scandal. And Logan… he had been in the middle of it all, facing the fire alone.Guilt gnawed at me.When we reached my apartment, Derek followed me inside, leaning against the kitchen counter as I tossed my keys onto the table. He studied me, waiting, like he knew I had something to say but wouldn’t say it first.I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Tell me everything.”Derek nodded, as if he had been expecting that. “Logan is handling it.”I scoffed, crossing my arms. “That’s vague.”He exhaled. “Fine. He had a long talk with his dad. The old man wanted him to stay quiet, let the rumors die down on their own. But Logan refused.”I frowned. “What do you mean?”“He’s fighting back,” Derek said simply. “He’s making sure no one spreads another lie about you. He’s calling in favors, shutting down the worst of it, and working on legal action against the tabloids.”I swallowed

Isabella’s POVI hadn’t meant to eavesdrop.After my exhausting conversation with my mother, I had intended to return to my room, lock the door, and shut the world out. But as I passed by my stepfather Robert’s study, the sharp edge of my mother’s voice made me pause."You promised me this would go smoothly, Amanda." Robert hissed.I frowned, pressing my back against the wall. My mother rarely let her composure slip, but right now, she sounded furious.My mom scoffed. "And you assured me Logan would know his place. That boy has always been reckless, but you swore this wouldn’t become a problem."I sucked in a quiet breath. Logan?My mother let out a frustrated sigh. "It wasn’t my fault your son couldn’t control his lust."The words hit me like a slap. My stomach churned, nausea rising in my throat."You act like this is just his fault," Robert shot back. "Don’t pretend Isabella didn’t play her part. You should’ve done a better job keeping them apart."I covered my mouth with my hand,

Logan’s POVI skimmed through the annual report. Sinclair Industries was vast—far more than just the gaming division I managed. My father oversaw several subsidiaries, and while I generally stayed out of his affairs, I made it a point to review the financials at the end of each fiscal year.But something wasn’t adding up.I frowned as I examined the numbers for one of our European acquisitions. A massive loan—hundreds of millions—was taken from a French bank. I hadn’t been informed of this, and given the sheer size of the investment, I should have been.“What the hell is this?” I muttered, flipping through the pages.Derek, who was standing by the window, turned toward me. “Figured you’d notice that.”I shot him a sharp look. “You knew about this?”He shrugged. “Not all the details. Just that your father took a sizeable loan to buy that European company. It’s been under wraps, probably because he didn’t want questions.”I exhaled slowly, my mind running through the implications. My fa

Isabella -The gravel crunched beneath my feet as I walked up the familiar path to my grandparents’ house. The air smelled of pine and damp earth, a comforting scent that carried me back to summers spent running through the fields, carefree and untouched by the weight of the world. But now, the house stood as a quiet sentinel, its white paint chipped and its shutters slightly askew, as if it too had aged alongside me. I paused at the front steps, my hand resting on the weathered railing, and took a deep breath. This was my refuge now, the only place where I could escape the chaos that had become my life.The key turned with a soft click, and I pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit foyer. Dust motes danced in the slivers of sunlight that filtered through the curtains, and the air was thick with the scent of old wood and forgotten memories. I dropped my bag by the door and let my fingers trail along the wall as I walked further inside. The house was exactly as I remembered i