LOGINCHAPTER 2
The party didn't seem to be coming to an end anytime soon and I figured I would be on my way to my hotel already. Besides, watching Devon and his fiancée dance like two intoxicated flamingos made my heart churn.
I brought out my phone to look at the time. It was a minute past two o'clock in the morning. I was sure to still get an Uber that would take me down to my hotel.
Unless....
The weather was pretty awful on this side of town. It would take at least an hour before I got to my hotel.
"Looks like it's about to rain," I said to myself in disgust and stood up from my chair. I took one last look at Devon.
And to my surprise, I caught him staring at me. He looked away instinctively and rested his gaze on his fiancée.
So he knew I was here and had been doing all of that bullshit just to spite me. If my lungs had been any hotter during the past few minutes I had been in here, now, that would have been set on fire.
I yanked my bag from the table and was about to make my way out when I had a change of heart.
Devon was watching me just as I had been watching him. He just pretended not to see me and not to care.
If I stormed out of here, it would only be working the effect he had wanted to have on me by dancing for hours and almost making out with the woman in front of everybody.
With a calm demeanor, I clutched my bag to my stomach with both hands, pressing down my frustration and anger. I walked out of the ballroom with calculated steps.
Swaying my hips as much as it didn't hurt while I walked out.
The rain had already begun. With clenched teeth, I stood at the exit, staring at the raindrops falling onto the ground.
Cold droplets splattered against my bare shoulders, soaking through the silk of my dress in seconds. My heels clicked against the stone as I moved beneath the narrow awning at the entrance, watching streams of water twist down the grand iron gate like veins.
Perfect.
I pulled my phone from my clutch and watched the signal flicker in and out. No service. Of course not. The Crest estate was practically carved into the side of Arkenwald’s hills, it was remote, towering, and, evidently, a black hole for data. I tried to summon a ride anyway, but the loading circle just spun like a cruel joke
"How was I going to get home in this condition?" I said out loud to myself.
If I knew any better, I would have left earlier, instead of having to go through the horror of watching and calculating Devon.
The rain seemed to intensify by every minute. There was no leaving here until the rain had subsided and I had no umbrella with me.
A gust of wind pushed the rain sideways, and I stepped back, bumping into a column. I huffed, arms crossed, glaring at the sky. The ballroom behind me was still alive with champagne and whispers. I had no desire to go back in.
Just as I began to wonder how long it would take to walk to the nearest main road in heels, I felt the unmistakable presence of someone at my back.
“Waiting on divine intervention?”
I turned sharply. Alaric Crest stood behind me, one hand tucked into the pocket of his coat, the other holding a sleek black umbrella. He wasn’t wet. He hadn’t been out here long.
He had that maddening ability to appear without sound, like fog slipping beneath a door.
“Waiting on a ride,” I said, straightening. “Though I’d probably have better luck hitchhiking with ghosts.”
He looked at the screen in my hand, the blue circle still spinning. “Your driver’s not coming.”
“Thank you,” I said flatly. “I hadn’t noticed.”
He arched a brow, then looked out at the rain. “Come. I’ll take you.”
“To the gates?”
“To wherever you’re going.”
I hesitated. “I’m heading back to my hotel.”
He gave a small nod, as if calculating the route. “Then I’ll take you there.”
“No need. I’d rather wait. I’m sure it’ll clear up soon.”
“It won’t.”
“I’m not your responsibility.”
“No,” he agreed. “You’re not. But I am offering you a way to avoid catching pneumonia. Humor me.”
The cold was starting to seep into my skin as my fingers trembled slightly, and I hated that he noticed that.
“I appreciate the offer,” I said, “but I don’t make a habit of getting into cars with men who speak like villains from old fairy tales.”
He smiled, very faintly. “Then let’s pretend I’m just a man with a car and an umbrella, and you’re a woman about to shiver herself into a fever.”
I stared at him for a beat too long, then exhaled. “Fine. But only to the gates.”
He didn’t respond, only turned and began walking toward a sleek black car parked beneath one of the covered side paths.
When I climbed in, the warmth hit me like a wave. The seats were soft leather, the interior scent was a mix of cedar, faint smoke, and something like old books sealed in glass. Alaric settled into the driver’s seat, quiet and practiced.
The drive started in silence. Trees blurred past the window, their skeletal limbs reaching out in the dark.
“Still unimpressed?” he asked after a few minutes.
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You were disappointed,” he said. “When I offered you a ride. It showed on your face.”
“I didn’t expect to see you again tonight,” I said. “That’s all.”
“That’s a polite way of saying you’d hoped not to.”
I shifted in my seat. “I didn’t come here for more conversation.”
“You came here to hurt him.”
My head snapped toward him. “Pardon?”
“Devon,” he said calmly. “You’re not very subtle, Miss Virelle.”
“No,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “And neither are you.”
He smirked again…God, did that ever fade?...but I didn’t respond. The silence returned again, thicker this time.
I stared out the window. Rain beaded against the glass, blurring the lights of the city far below. We weren’t heading toward the city.
“Where are we going?” I asked, slowly.
“My house,” he said, as if it were obvious. “I assumed you’d prefer somewhere dry to wait until the roads are usable again. Unless you’d rather be dropped off at a closed gate in a downpour.”
I glared at him. “You could’ve told me that before you started driving.”
“You were in no condition to argue. Besides,” he added, glancing at me, “I was curious what you’d say once you realized.”
The gall of this man.
I considered demanding he turn around. But a part of me that was curled somewhere between pride and exhaustion stayed silent. I was soaked and cold at the same time. And the game wasn’t over.
“Fine,” I said quietly. “But don’t mistake this for surrender.”
He nodded, eyes still on the road. “I wouldn't dream of it.”
The car curved through ancient pines and wrought-iron gates, the world then slipped into a different kind of quiet.
Alaric Crest’s mansion waited at the end of the road.
Somehow, I knew this wasn’t the end of the night, It was only the beginning.
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
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
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
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.
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—
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
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
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 intent
CHAPTER 3Alaric's povShe stood under the awning like a wounded bird…soaked to the skin, shivering, and still too proud to bend. I watched her for a moment before speaking, more curious than concerned. There was something magnetic about Isla Virelle, even when she was clearly miserable.No, especi
Chapter 1Isla's povThey say revenge is a poison you drink yourself, hoping the other dies. I suppose that’s true, except I never planned to die.I planned to burn.The ballroom glittered as a lie told too often. Gilded mirrors reflected perfect smiles, the chandeliers overhead weeping crystal tea







