Semua Bab Shattered Vows: Bab 111 - Bab 115

The days that followed their walk through the city felt like a cautious unfolding. Like watching spring try to bloom in the last frost of winter. Isla Carter kept to her routine, but there was a shift—a gentle curiosity toward what it might mean to forgive someone who had shattered her once, yet now seemed determined to rebuild her trust one action at a time.She didn’t move back in with Killian Blackwood. That would have been too much, too fast. But they began seeing each other more frequently, in small, quiet spaces that didn’t require grand statements or promises. Coffee shops. Bookstores. Walks at twilight. Each moment carried the weight of unspoken questions—and slowly, the tentative answers began to take root.One late afternoon, Isla sat at her kitchen counter with her laptop open and a cup of chamomile tea steaming beside her. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she re-read the proposal she had been working on for weeks—an initiative aimed at funding inner-city literacy pro

The storm arrived without warning.Isla Carter had barely slept since the envelope. The image of her and Killian in that stolen kiss—something private, tender, and unguarded—being weaponized filled her with a familiar dread. A dread she had thought she’d buried.She sat at her dining table, surrounded by documents, newspaper clippings, and a laptop with multiple tabs open. Headlines were already popping up.“Killian Blackwood’s Secret Wife: Who is Isla Carter?”“Celeste Winslow Speaks Out: Betrayal and Blackmail Behind Broken Engagement?”Her stomach clenched. The story was spinning out of control. And Celeste had pulled every possible string.Killian burst through her door that morning, uninvited but not unwelcome. His usually neat appearance was disheveled, his jaw tight, hair mussed from dragging his hand through it too many times. The stress was eating at him too.“I just got off a call with the board,” he said without preamble. “They’re concerned.”“About the photos?” Isla asked,

The morning sun cut through Isla Carter’s curtains like a blade, highlighting the quiet dust particles that floated lazily in the air. The apartment was still—eerily so. The kind of stillness that followed a storm but made you wonder whether another one was already brewing.She sat at the edge of her bed, elbows on her knees, cradling a cup of black coffee that had long gone cold. The events of the past week felt like a surreal movie, one she hadn’t asked to star in. Celeste’s exposure. The boardroom takedown. The media circus. Killian Blackwood’s silent strength beside her.She didn’t know what to do with it all.A knock at her door drew her from the haze.When she opened it, Killian stood there—tall, composed, and uncharacteristically casual in jeans and a fitted navy sweater. He looked more like the man she’d once imagined in daydreams than the polished billionaire he often presented to the world.“I brought you breakfast,” he said, lifting a paper bag and a tray with two coffees.