Todos los capítulos de TIED TO A RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

The city moved around her, same as always, but Isla felt it differently now. Every pane of glass, every glint of reflected light little reminders of the rules she’d learned to weave through. She woke up early, before anyone in the penthouse started to stir, and scrolled through the morning news with sharp focus. Seraphina Sharpe had left her usual hints overnight a comment here, an article shared there. Quiet enough to slip past most people, but clear enough to poke at anyone actually paying attention.Isla sipped her coffee, letting its warmth pull her thoughts together. She tracked reactions the way some people counted coins watching who shared what, clocking the tone of every comment, noticing the tiny shifts in what people thought. Most folks only saw the surface. Isla saw the patterns underneath.When Ares walked into the kitchen, she was ready. “You’re early,” he said, voice flat, eyes cutting her way with that look he always had hard to read, but never really gentle.“So are

The day just wouldn’t let up. Clung to him like static, stubborn and insistent.By the time Ares Valtieri shuffled into the elevator, he was running on nerves and caffeine. Meetings that circled nowhere, people talking but never saying anything at all. Numbers? Sure, those made sense. People? Not so much.Then Isla Quinn slipped in right before the doors closed.No eye contact. Since that morning, they’d barely looked at each other, just half-glances and unfinished thoughts.Now, silence. Not cold or angry, just heavy like both of them noticed it but neither wanted to poke at it.Down they went.Twenty floors. Should’ve been simple. Routine.Except, not even close.The elevator jerked and stopped. Not a crash, but enough to set Ares’ nerves on edge. Lights flickered to a moody, half-lit glow. The usual hum faded. Dead quiet.Isla’s breath hitched. Not loud, just sharp small gasps.Ares, on autopilot, hit the emergency button. A thin voice crackled through, distant as the moon.“Tempor

Isla Quinn woke up with that dull, persistent ache as her body had caught on. She was awake before her head did. Not really pain, just that low-key reminder stress likes to leave behind, settling into your muscles, your bones. Sleep never quite wipes it away, does it? She just lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling while morning light drew faint lines across the plaster.On the other side of the bed? Still empty. It didn't even hurt anymore. She’d gone numb to that.She got up slowly, a little stiff but nothing out of the ordinary, and shuffled to the bathroom. Cold marble floors, as always fancy as hell, but your toes don’t care. Washed her face. Pulled her hair back. Caught her own reflection. Not a mess, actually. Just tired. Honestly, a whole lot better than she’d looked a few weeks ago.Getting dressed, that small, nagging need showed up. Not dramatic, just regular life. She checked her bag. Empty. Of course. No supplies. She exhaled, half-laugh, half-sigh.Fine, whatever.

God, hospitals always stank of bleach and anxiety. The whole place felt strange, like a muscle stretched too far. Isla Quinn sat rigid in the awful vinyl chair, hands clenched tight in her lap. The machines kept up their little chorus: beep, hum, flicker reminding everyone that yes, Ares Valtieri was still breathing. Stable, the doctors said, but he looked pale, barely there. Which, if you knew him, was its own kind of torment.He despised being still. I hated it.Isla just watched his chest rise and fall. Up, down. Over and over, the gunshot echoed in her head, like her bones had memorized the noise.Ares stirred. Eyes opened, sharp as ever, even with pain clouding everything else. He found her instantly.“You shouldn’t be here,” he rasped.Her throat felt pinched, but she didn’t look away. “You got shot.”“That doesn’t change anything.”“It changes everything.”He blew out a rough breath, something like irritation flickering across his face. “You’re going home.”“No.”She didn’t pau

The storm didn’t bother with warnings.It crashed in, wild and sudden wind howling at the windows, rain hammering so hard it seemed like the glass might splinter. Isla had just crossed the living room when the lights flickered twice, then went out.The penthouse snapped to black.She waited. Counted a couple of heartbeats.“Power’s out,” Ares said, sounding calm, though his voice had an edge to it. He moved with a kind of focus, like he was following a plan only he knew.Thunder exploded overhead, close enough to shake the walls.Isla grabbed her phone. No bars. Nothing. She powered it off, and suddenly the silence between thunderclaps was louder than the storm.“The generator should kick in,” Ares said. “But the storm’s blocking half the systems.”Right then, dull emergency lights flickered down the hallway. Barely enough to see by. The place felt hollow, stripped of its usual protection, no city glow, no warmth, just shadows and rain clawing at the walls.“I’ll get candles,” Isla sa