All Chapters of Seducing my Ex's StepFather: Chapter 11 - Chapter 18

18 Chapters

Chapter Eleven

Isla's pov The Grand Ballroom of the Central Banking Syndicate was a gilded cage of glass, gold, and masked predators. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen constellations from the vaulted ceiling, casting a sharp brilliance over the sea of Arkenwald's elite. Everyone wore a mask, their true intentions hidden behind velvet, silk, and molded gold. But I didn't need to see their faces to know they were watching us.I leaned heavily into Alaric’s side as we walked down the grand marble staircase. My hand rested on the fine wool of his sleeve, feeling the rigid strength of his forearm beneath the fabric. For the evening, I wore a gown of deep crimson satin that pooled around my ankles, contrasted by a delicate silver filigree mask that covered the upper half of my face. Alaric wore a stark black coat and a heavy, obsidian mask that made him look like a myth brought to life."Smile, little bird," Alaric murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that barely carried over the swelling orc

Chapter Twelve

Isla's pov. The heavy oak doors of Alaric’s private chambers clicked shut, locking the rest of the dangerous world outside. My breath was still coming in short, ragged gasps, my heart hammering violently against my ribs.Alaric threw his obsidian mask onto a velvet armchair. He stripped off his tailored black coat, tossing it aside without a care, before turning his dark, burning gaze entirely on me. Under the dim, warm glow of the fireplace, he looked less like a noble guardian and more like a predator who had finally brought his prize home."You're bleeding," he murmured, his voice a low, rough rumble.I looked down at my arm. A jagged piece of crystal from my shattered silver clutch had sliced open the side of my wrist during the struggle with the assassin. A thin trail of crimson blood was smudging the satin of my red dress. I hadn't even felt it."It's nothing," I whispered, but my voice trembled. The danger of the night, the near-death experience, and the overwhelming prox

Chapter Thirteen

Devon’s pov The air in Alaric’s private study always smelled like old money and expensive cedar, a constant, suffocating reminder of everything he had and everything I had just lost.My hands shook as I slotted my government-issued biometric key into his desk terminal. If the security team caught me, my political clearance wouldn't just be revoked; I’d be facing a federal penitentiary. But panic had evolved into a cold, clinical fury hours ago. The market crash Alaric engineered had wiped out my accounts, my reputation, and my future. I was ruined. And a ruined man has absolutely nothing left to fear.The terminal chimed softly, recognizing my high-level credentials. I didn’t waste time looking for tax evasions or petty corporate fraud. I needed the kill shot. I bypassed the standard cloud drives and began scanning the physical architecture of the estate. There it was: a massive, off-grid power draw directly beneath the foundations. A subterranean vault.Leaving the terminal lo

Chapter Fourteen

Devon’s pov The red emergency lights strobed against the reinforced steel door, casting long, rhythmic shadows that made the vault feel like a sinking submarine. The hum of the servers died completely, replaced by the high-pitched whine of fried circuits and the deafening, systematic clanging of the estate’s automated lockdown.I was trapped."Isla!" I screamed again, my voice tearing in my throat. I threw my shoulder against the steel shutter, but it was like hitting the side of a mountain.On the secondary monitor, Arthur Vance was frantically pacing his cell, his audio feed cutting through the sirens. *“What did you do? The power grid to my door just bypassed to a mechanical deadbolt! Get me out of here!”*"Shut up!" I roared, sprinting back to the main console.The primary screens were flickering, bleeding data as a hard-wiped safety protocol took effect. Alaric’s system wasn't just locking down; it was purging. The numbers on my phone screen—the millions Vance had transferred—

Chapter Fifteen

Isla's pov The taste of copper and drywall dust coated my tongue. I scrambled up from the shattered marble floor, my breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. My fingers dug into the ruined fabric of my blouse, my throat burning where Devon’s hands had been just minutes before. The bruising was already setting in, a tight, painful band around my neck. "Isla! Stay down!" Alaric’s voice cut through the ringing in my ears. He was already on his feet, stepping over the glass shards, his face a mask of absolute fury as he racked the bolt of his rifle. Through the gaping, shattered frame of the terrace doors, the storm was howling, driving sheets of rain into the grand foyer. Outside, the dark expanse of the Atlantic crashed violently against the cliffs below. I pushed myself up against a splintered pillar, my knees shaking. "He... he has Vance," I choked out, coughing as the smoke from the collapsed chandelier stung my lungs. "They’re heading for the docks." Alaric didn't answer.

Chapter Sixteen

Isla's pov The cold rain lashed against my face as Devon lunged up the muddy slope. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and completely unmoored from reality. The sophisticated political operative who had once moved through high-society galas with effortless grace was entirely gone, replaced by a desperate creature driven by pure adrenaline and fractured ambition. He did not see the weapon in my hands as a genuine threat. He saw me as his property, his final piece of leverage in a game that had already cost him his soul. "Isla, put that down," he shouted over the roar of the wind, his voice cutting through the tempest. "You do not understand what we have here. We are going to be rich. We can leave Alaric bleeding on his own dock and start over where no one can ever touch us." He reached out, his wet fingers grasping for my jacket, his breath coming in ragged, hysterical gasps. My survival instinct took over completely. I squeezed the trigger. The gunshot was deafening, a sharp

Chapter Seventeen

Isla's pov I sat at the long mahogany table, nursing a cup of black coffee. The dark bruises on my neck were concealed beneath the high collar of my blouse, but the cold clarity in my chest was entirely visible.Alaric was sitting beside me with his posture immaculate, the image of a man who hadn't spent the night hunting down a traitor on a storm-slicked cliffside.The heavy glass doors swung open, and Marcus walked in, flanked by two of his senior legal advisors. Marcus was Devon’s primary political sponsor and the man who had spent the last six months trying to orchestrate a hostile takeover of our joint venture. He wore a smug, patronizing smile, entirely unaware that his entire operation had collapsed hours ago."Alaric....Miss," Marcus said, smoothly pulling out a chair at the opposite end of the table and sitting down with a theatrical sigh."Her name is Isla." Alaric interjected. Marcus nodded his head in acknowledgement. "I must say, calling an emergency board meeting a

Chapter Eighteen

Isla's povThe morning after Marcus signed away his empire, the corporate headquarters felt entirely different. The frantic, heavy energy of the past few weeks had dissipated, replaced by a quiet, industrious hum.I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of Alaric’s top-floor office, watching the city traffic crawl below. The high collar of my new silk blouse hid the fading marks on my neck, but inside, I felt entirely transformed. I was no longer just a coordinator surviving a corporate war. I was a full partner.The heavy oak door clicked open, and Alaric walked in. He had discarded his formal suit jacket, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms as he carried two fresh cups of coffee. He handed one to me, his fingers brushing against mine with that steady, grounding warmth that had kept me anchored through the storm."You look deep in thought," he said, standing beside me and looking out over the skyline."Just thinking about how quickly a legacy can change hands," I replied, takin

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