LOGIN~Isla~
I stormed out of the club, my blood boiling with a rage I had never felt before. The cool night air slapped against my face, but it did nothing to extinguish the fire Marcus had ignited inside me. His words kept replaying in my head like a broken record. You will suffer severely until you admit that thing inside you is a bastard! “My child is not a bastard,” I whispered fiercely to myself, pressing a protective hand over my stomach as I walked down the dimly lit street. “I swear on everything I have left, Marcus Calloway, you will regret this. You will regret every cruel word, every humiliation, and every time you turned your back on me.” For the first time since the nightmare began, I didn’t just feel broken, I felt determined. I would survive this. I would grow stronger. And one day, I would make them all pay. Kora’s small apartment wasn’t too far from the club. I walked quickly, still wearing the cheap waitress uniform under her borrowed coat. The streets were quiet now, but my mind was loud with plans. I would work harder, save every tip, and leave this city. I would rebuild my life as a jewelry designer, the dream I had sacrificed for a man who never deserved it. When I finally pushed open the apartment door, the lights were dim. Kora wasn’t back from her shift yet. Only James, her boyfriend, was sprawled on the old couch, a bottle of beer in his hand and a strange look in his eyes as he watched me enter. “You’re back early,” he said, his voice slightly slurred. His gaze traveled slowly down my body, making my skin crawl. “I… I finished my shift,” I muttered, avoiding his eyes as I headed straight for the tiny guest room Kora had kindly given me. Before I could close the door, James stood up and blocked my path. The smell of alcohol on his breath was strong and unpleasant. “You know, Isla… you’re really beautiful,” he slurred, stepping closer. “Too beautiful to be treated like trash by that rich bastard ex-husband of yours.” My heart skipped in warning. “James, please move. I’m really tired.” He didn’t listen. Instead, he grabbed my wrist tightly and pulled me against his chest. “Come on. Kora doesn’t have to know. I can make you feel better. That baby needs a real man, not some cold billionaire who threw you out like garbage.” Panic exploded inside me. “Let go of me!” I shoved him hard, but he was stronger. He laughed darkly and pushed me backward onto the small bed. His heavy body climbed on top of me, his hands roaming where they had no right to be. “Stop pretending you’re innocent. You’re already used goods anyway. Let me help you forget that bastard.” “No!” I screamed, terror and rage giving me strength. I grabbed the bedside lamp and smashed it across his head with all my might. James cried out in pain, blood trickling from his temple as he fell backward onto the floor. “You bitch!” At that exact moment, the front door opened. Kora walked in, still wearing her restaurant uniform, her eyes widening at the scene before her. “Kora!” I cried desperately, rushing toward her. “James tried to force himself on me! He attacked me!” But James stumbled to his feet, holding his bleeding head dramatically. “She’s lying! This whore tried to seduce me! She said she’d do anything for a place to stay. She even offered herself to me!” Kora’s face twisted from shock to pure anger as she looked between us. “Isla… after everything I did for you? After I took you in when no one else would?” “No, Kora, please! You have to believe me!” I begged, tears rushing down my face. “He’s lying! I would never do that. I fought him off!” But Kora wasn’t listening. Her eyes filled with betrayal as she grabbed my arm roughly and started dragging me toward the door. “I treated you like a sister! I fed you, gave you a roof, and this is how you repay me? By trying to steal my man?” “I didn’t! I swear on my baby’s life!” I sobbed, trying to pull away. “Get out!” Kora screamed, throwing my small bag of clothes at me. “Never come back here again, you ungrateful whore!” The door slammed shut in my face with a final, heartbreaking bang. I stood in the dark hallway, shaking uncontrollably. Once again, no one believed me. Once again, I was painted as the villain. The same nightmare kept repeating: betrayal after betrayal. Tears blurred my vision as I walked out into the cold night. My legs felt heavier with every step. Hunger, exhaustion, pregnancy, and repeated heartbreak were finally taking their toll. I collapsed against a dirty wall in a quiet alley, sliding down until I was curled up on the cold pavement. “I’m sorry, baby…” I whispered weakly, my hand resting on my stomach. “Mommy is so sorry for bringing you into this cruel world. But I won’t give up. I promise.” The world started spinning. Black spots danced in my vision. I tried to fight it, but unconsciousness pulled me under like a heavy tide. The last thing I remembered was the sound of expensive car tires stopping nearby… and a deep, smooth male voice cutting through the darkness. “Poor thing… she's so beautiful, a priceless one.” Strong, warm arms slid underneath me, lifting me gently from the dirty ground. A faint scent of expensive cologne surrounded me as my body was carried away. I tried to open my eyes, tried to see who this stranger was, but my body refused to cooperate. Who was he? Why was he helping me? Darkness completely took over before I could find any answers..~Isla~ The afternoon sun was pouring through Sophia’s big bay windows, throwing warm golden patches all over the marble floor. I was curled up on the plush cream sofa across from her, sketchpad balanced on my lap, surrounded by a total mess of fabric swatches, gemstones, and half-finished designs. Sophia, my closest friend in Paris and a rising socialite, was getting engaged in three months, and she had asked me personally to design the jewelry for her engagement party.“I love the sapphire idea,” Sophia said, leaning forward with excitement, her long blonde hair falling over one shoulder. “But what if we added emeralds instead? No, wait… maybe a mix? Or perhaps rose gold with diamonds? Oh God, Aurelia, I keep changing my mind. Help me!”I smiled patiently, tapping my pencil against the sketchpad. “Sophia, breathe. The sapphire base is elegant and timeless. It matches your eyes perfectly. If you want to add emeralds, we can do subtle accents, small clusters around the main stone. It
~Marcus’s POV~The private investigator’s voice on the other end of the line was calm, clinical, and devastating.“Mr. Calloway… the DNA results are conclusive. The twins are biologically yours. Probability over 99.9%. They are your sons.”I stood frozen in the middle of my office, phone pressed to my ear, the world tilting violently beneath my feet. The report continued, but I barely heard the rest, financial trails, timelines, confirmation that Andrew had been with Isla almost immediately after I threw her out.My sons. Owen and Oliver…. are mine.Those two little boys with my eyes, my lips, the ones I had dismissed as another man’s bastards five years ago, they were truly my blood.A sound tore from my throat, raw and broken. I staggered back until my legs hit the desk, sliding down to the floor. The phone slipped from my hand.I couldn't believe it.I had thrown their mother out while she carried them. I had pointed a gun at her. I had screamed that I would rip them from her body
~Andrew~ The room was dark except for the single lamp on the mahogany desk. Its warm light spilled across the canvas. I stood before the painting I had created myself over the years, it was a masterpiece of hatred. Marcus stared back at me from the canvas, his face twisted in agony. Deep gashes of red paint slashed across his cheeks and throat. His deep blue eyes, the same shade as mine, were wide with terror and pain. Blood dripped from his mouth, from his nose, from the crown I had painted cracking on his head. He looked broken. Defeated. Exactly how I wanted him. My fingers traced the edge of the frame, almost lovingly. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. The moment I will finally bring this painting to life. And the time has come. It felt so good that I didn't have to wait anymore. A slow, wicked smile spread across my face as I stepped back, admiring my work. The hatred I felt for my younger brother had been festering since we were children. I was the firstb
~Isla~The penthouse felt like a sanctuary after the chaos. The soft glow of the dining room chandelier cast warm light over the table as we sat down for dinner, just the four of us. No staff. No cameras. Just us… family.Owen and Oliver were still a little subdued from the park incident, but the smell of roasted chicken and vegetables slowly brought their usual energy back. They sat in their booster seats, forks in hand, chatting excitedly about their day.“Mommy, the tower we built was so tall!” Owen said, waving his fork. “Papa helped us make it reach the sky!”Andrew smiled across the table at me, his expression soft and warm. “They have your creativity. Every stick and leaf became something magical.”I laughed softly, reaching over to wipe sauce from Oliver’s cheek. “You two are my little artists. I’m so proud of you.”The meal was filled with light conversation, the twins telling us about the ducks they saw in the park, Andrew teasing them about who built the taller tower. For a
~Isla~Children’s laughter echoed around us as the afternoon sun bathed the Luxembourg Garden in a soft golden light. I sat on a bench, watching Owen and Oliver chase each other around the fountain. Their little legs moved with so much energy, their matching blue shirts fluttering in the breeze. Paris had never felt more peaceful or more fragile.My mind, however, was anything but calm.Andrew’s brother.The words Marcus had shouted at the Milan event still rang in my ears. I kept trying to push the thought away, but it crept back like shadows at dusk. Andrew had saved me. He had given me a new life, a new name, a future for my children. He could never lie to me. Not after everything we had been through.I glanced toward the playground. Andrew was kneeling beside the twins, helping them build a tower with fallen sticks and leaves. The boys were giggling, calling him “Papa” with pure joy. The sight warmed my heart and eased some of the tension in my chest.He’s their everything, I tho
Author's POV The living room of the Calloway mansion was usually a place of calculated elegance, crystal decanters, silk cushions, and the faint scent of expensive perfume. Tonight, it felt like a war room on the verge of collapse.Linda Calloway paced back and forth across the Persian rug, her silk robe fluttering behind her. Her face was flushed, eyes wide with disbelief and rising panic. Cara sat on the edge of the velvet sofa, clutching her phone so tightly her knuckles had turned white.“I can’t believe it,” Linda hissed, her voice cracking. “Isla. That Isla. The same pathetic little whore we threw out five years ago like yesterday’s garbage. She’s Aurelia Cole? The designer we’ve been obsessing over? The one whose pieces we’ve been buying like addicts?”Cara let out a hysterical laugh that bordered on a sob. “Mom, did you see her tonight? That gown. That confidence. The way she looked at us like we were nothing. Like we were the frauds. How is this even possible? We destroyed
~Isla~ The streetlights blurred through my tears as I forced myself to keep moving. My body was screaming for rest, but hunger and desperation pushed me forward. I spotted a small, warmly lit restaurant ahead. The smell of hot food drifting out made my stomach twist painfully. I had no money, but
~Isla~ The ink on the divorce papers had barely dried when Aunt Linda and Cara burst back into the room like vultures circling a fresh kill. My hands were still shaking as I set the pen down, my heart completely shattered into pieces that could never be put back together. “It’s all crocodile tea
~Isla~ I remained frozen in the middle of the dining room, my body trembling with a mixture of rage, heartbreak, and disbelief. The scattered food and bloodstains on the marble floor felt like a cruel painting of my destroyed life. Marcus had stormed out, leaving behind only the echo of his furiou
~Isla~ “Isla, you fucking whore!” Cara barked as she stormed into the dining room, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. She held up a red pantie... my red pantie... waving it like damning evidence. Marcus’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. He set it down gently, his deep blue eye







