Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 1 - Chapitre 10

"Isabella, I’m sorry, but it’s over. The investors have pulled out." Those words landed like a gut punch, knocking the breath from my lungs. My dream of building a fashion empire and my desire to create something big appeared to slip through my fingers. This day was supposed to be my happiest moment, seeing my dream come true. One day, I struggled and fought hard for it.Oh! Where do I even begin? What do I do now? Everything was crumbling before my own very eyes; everything was falling apart, yet nothing I could do. I gazed at the phone in my hand, unable to grasp what I had just heard. As I looked out at the already arranged event hall before me, its beautiful decoration so enticing now felt like a mockery. I had been slapped bitterly, yet I could not retaliate. The models who had been preparing for months, their everyday rehearsals, the modelling dresses--everything seemed to fade into the ground as I stood there, paralyzed and confused, asking myself a lot of unanswered questions

I gazed at my phone, my thoughts racing. This had to be a trap. Clara does not do anything until it benefits her. And yet... what if it wasn’t? What if this was my only opportunity to change things around?I turned to Daniel, who had been listening to our conversation. "That sounded suspicious," he said."You think so?" I murmured dryly, raking a hand over my hair. "But I don’t have an option as it stands now."Daniel frowned. "And what if it’s a setup?" I feigned a smile. "Then at least Clara will get the best seat in the house when my world comes crashing down again."The joke was lame, but it was all I had left.That night, I hardly slept. I kept thinking whether I was making the greatest mistake of my life.By dawn, I had determined I attend the meeting with the same person who had ruined my dream some days ago.----I headed to the meeting.When I arrived at the venue Clara had texted me. It was a five-star hotel, the type of place where deals were struck over with co

"You think I’m bluffing?" he questioned, moving back and pulling out his phone. With a few touches, he turned the screen toward me.It was Clara.She was seated at a bar, sipping a drink but I was unable to recognize the two guys standing behind her.My breath hitched.Greg smile. "She is a gorgeous girl, isn’t she? Shame on you if anything happens to her." My heart raced towards where Clara could even with the fact that she hated me, she remains my cousin."Leave her out of this," I yelled, rage overpowering my anxiety."That is up to you." He placed his phone aside. "You always loved to be stubborn, Isabella. But here’s the thing, you won’t get to win this time."I gulped hard, my thoughts racing. "You shouldn’t hurt her."He laughed. " what did you just say?" he asked with a strange look towards me.I had seen and known what Greg was capable of and even if he did not touch Clara, he had his ways of making people suffer.He tilted his head. "Or maybe… someone else would convi

I swallowed hard. “And what makes you think so?” Lucian cocked his head, examining me. “Because I’ve seen what happens to people like you. People who believe they can thrive in a society founded on power and deception.” Something about the way he said it made my blood pressure rise, could it be that I had landed myself in another phase of battle? “What are you trying to say?” I asked gently. Lucian moaned, scratching his jaw. “I’m saying there is another way out of this. A method that doesn’t entail you attaching yourself too close to Alexander.” I gaze at him, distrust seeping in concerning what I have just heard. “Come with me.” He requested I follow him I frowned. “Why and to where?” Lucian leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “I can get you out of this mess. Away from Greg, away from this mess, you have chosen to get yourself involved with Alexander. I have… connections.” My heart hammered. “Connections?” He nodded. “Let’s just sa

That Evening – By the Fire The flames projected shifting shadows over Alexander’s face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jawline. He sat across from me on the outside patio, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his expression contemplative. I wrapped the blanket tightly around my shoulders. "So, what is this place to you?" He sighed, peering into the flames as if the solution was hidden beneath the ashes. “This place reminds me of my mother." I still could not say anything because we had never discussed anything relating to that. "You don’t talk about her much," I remarked gently. He shook his head. "Because there’s not much to say." "That’s a lie." I interrupted him.A sour smirk tinged his lips. "Perhaps." Silence spread between us, pleasant but weighty. Finally, he spoke again. "She was the only person who ever looked at me and didn’t see a Steele. To her, I wasn’t an heir, or an asset, or a business strategy. I was just… her son." Something in my chest hurt. "She died when