All Chapters of Shattered Vows: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

The city was different in the morning light. Golden rays stretched across the skyline, casting a warmth that Isla barely felt. She pulled her coat tighter around her as she stepped out onto the busy sidewalk, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag like a lifeline. It had been a week since she’d walked away from Killian, a week since she had decided to start over, but the ghost of him still lingered in the corners of her mind, in the spaces between her breaths.She had found refuge in a quieter part of the city, far from the chaos of her past life. It wasn’t luxurious, and it wasn’t permanent, but it was hers. A small studio apartment, just enough space for herself and the life she was trying to rebuild. No more grand mansions, no more suffocating ballrooms filled with people waiting to tear her apart.As she walked, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She hesitated before pulling it out. The screen flashed a name she hadn’t expected—Liam.For a moment, she considered ignoring it, but s

The sun dipped low in the horizon, casting Westbridge Garden in a warm amber glow. The once-vibrant park now had an unsettling quietness for Isla as she walked towards the agreed meeting point. Her heart pounded — a mad drum of rebellion and unhealed pain.She wore plain, understated clothes — a world away from the turmoil churning within her. Her white blouse was fastened into high-waisted black pants, hair styled in a low bun. No makeup. No disguise. Just Isla — raw and unadulterated. Every step closer felt heavier, every breath more difficult to take. Her fists were clenched at her sides, knuckles growing white from the effort to remain intact.In the distance, she spotted him.Killian.Standing by himself under a giant oak tree, wearing a black suit that made him look as strong and as tough as ever. But there was something different about his posture — something unguarded. Vulnerability. His normally impeccable appearance looked subdued today — his tie a little loose, his hair tous

The city lights churned through the rain-patterned windows of the café Isla had chosen — a tiny, warm little place tucked away in the untroubled corner of Westbridge, far beyond the reach of the violence and gossip that had once engulfed her name. The scent of roasted beans and freshly baked pastry mingled in the air, a solace that was a reminder of simpler days.She wrapped her fingers around the tea cup in front of her, staring out of the window as though it held the answers she had been searching for.She was not the broken girl she once was, the girl who had exploded with the indifference of Killian Thorne. She'd built something new for herself — a new life, a different rhythm. But still, his voice stayed in her head like an out-of-tune song."You always liked the window seat," said a voice to her back.Isla didn't have to turn around to know who it was. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathed deeply, and let the tension growing in her chest escape."Yes," she answered coolly,

The café on the quiet edge of town hummed quietly with activity — clinking spoons on ceramic, muted thrum of conversation, and the occasional hiss of steaming milk. Isla sat at the large window, her hands curled around a cup of chamomile tea. It had been her refuge of late — this small café with its worn-at-the-edges appeal and cinnamon-dusted air. It reminded her of happier times, before heartbreak and betrayal.A week had passed since she'd last talked to Killian.Seven days of stubborn emotional theatrics. He had said the right words, been vulnerable, mapped out love as an offering and not a requirement—and still, she could not shake the pain. Forgiveness was a door that creaked open with effort, not when still the wounds seeped beneath her skin.The doorbell over the café entrance rang.Isla did not glance up right away. She had not been expecting anyone. But the atmosphere shifted unobtrusively. A silence fell around her, and she knew by instinct who had just walked in. She glanc

The night dragged on, a suffocating silence closing in around Killian as he watched Isla disappear into the sea of people. Each step she took was a fist to his chest, each movement a testament to how far he had pushed her away. Her words echoed in his mind, a stinging reality: *It's too late*.Killian was not one to lose control. But here, in the middle of the grand ballroom, he knew how much he had lost. Control had been ripped from his hands like sand, and all that was left were the consequences of his actions.The lights around him blurred, the glittering chandelier above elongating into long shadows across the room. He barely noticed the guests returning to their celebrations, their conversations and laughter a muffled hum in his ears. All he could hear was the silence of Isla's absence, her rejection, the weight of all he had left unsaid.He needed to fix this. Needed to make her see that he was changed now, that he wasn't the same man who'd walked away from her. But with every p