All Chapters of Unworthy No More : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Alexander’s POVThe night was filled with the stench of cordite and fear. I stood beneath the flickering warehouse lights, watching as the forensics team bagged the last of the evidence. The kidnapper lay sprawled at my feet,bare chest, lifeless eyes, and blood already drying into dark, rust-colored cracks on the concrete.Marcus lingered behind me, arms folded, voice low. “You shouldn’t be here, Alex. Let the Bureau handle it.” I crouched beside the corpse, ignoring him. “The Bureau?” I almost laughed. “They’re the reason this bastard made it this far.” His jaw tightened. “You’ve already done enough. You got Sophie back. Don’t...”I peeled the edge of the man’s shirt aside. The words carved into his skin stopped him cold. DEBT PAID. Each letter gouged deep, deliberate, done by someone who wanted to make a statement. The blood around the cuts was already dry. Whoever did this did not just kill him, they wanted him found. My stomach went cold. I had seen this before. Years ago. Nathani

Isla’s POVAlejandro decided that we should move back to his house. After all, Sophie could not sleep without seeing him. This time, I did not feel like he was being excessive when he proposed that. Running around between his home, the company and mine was taking a toll on him. So, we moved back. The night was too still. Even the wind seemed to hesitate as it passed over the Langston estate, brushing faintly against the windows before dying into silence. I sat on the edge of my bed, unable to sleep. Sophie had long drifted off, clutching her stuffed lamb, her little breaths steady and peaceful. But peace had become a fragile thing lately, something I no longer trusted.I should have felt safe here. Alexander had tightened security, tripled patrols, moved us into the guest wing with bullet-resistant glass and private guards outside. Yet, every creak of the old floorboards, every flicker of shadow made my heart stutter. Nathaniel’s name still rang in my mind like a curse.The man I had

Isla’s POVThere was a time when silence terrified me. When it meant the next blow, the next cruel word, the next moment I would have to shrink myself smaller just to survive. But now, silence felt like space. A fragile, precious pause between what I had been and what I was becoming.I sat in my car outside Alexander’s building, watching the city pulse with life. Neon lights reflected off the windshield, blurring into streaks of color like the memories I tried not to relive. Every woman I had met since the kidnapping...at the hospital, at the community clinic, even in grocery lines, carried that same look I once had, haunted, uncertain and half-alive.That was when it struck me. Healing was not just about me. It could not be. If I had crawled out of that darkness, then I owed it to others to leave a light behind. Sophie was my reason to begin again, but these women… they were my reason to continue.I remembered the night after Nathaniel’s goons were arrested, how I had stared at the c

Isla’s POVThere was a time when my life could be measured in numbers, deadlines, profit margins, balance sheets, quarterly goals. I once believed that was my purpose. To make everything add up. To prove my worth by how well I could keep other people’s worlds in order, even while mine quietly unraveled.Six years. That was how long I spent married to Nathaniel Blake, six years of shrinking myself to fit inside his version of love. Six years of being told that emotions were weaknesses, that softness was foolish, that I was lucky he chose me.I became an expert at pretending. At smiling whilst my heart cried, presenting myself gracefully while ignoring the hollow ache beneath my ribs. I used to think control was power. That if I could keep the numbers right, I could keep my world from collapsing. But numbers could not save me from the night he brought another woman, heavily pregnant, into our home. Numbers could not protect Sophie and me from the storm.But time has a strange way of rew

Isla’s POV The city lived on, oblivious to the quiet wars waged beneath its surface, battles fought not with weapons, but with courage, grit, and faith. I had just returned to The Dawn Foundation after a rescue mission, guiding a young mother and her daughter from the edge of fear into safety, when the first sign of trouble appeared. A call. No voice, only silence and static. Then a click. A warning. I did not flinch. Fear had stopped being my language long ago. Purpose had taken its place. Whoever they were, they had no idea what kind of woman they were trying to intimidate. “Everything okay?” my assistant asked, her tone hesitant as she caught the tension in my posture. “Better than okay,” I said, eyes fixed on the skyline shimmering beyond the glass. “They’ve just reminded me what we stand for. We don’t run. We protect. We fight. And we win.” My phone buzzed again, a secure message. Alexander: Nathaniel’s pawns moving. He won’t touch you. Not while I breathe. Even through text