All Chapters of TIED TO A RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

34 Chapters

Chapter 11: Standing Ground

The morning news barely made a sound. Isla was in the middle of making coffee when her phone started buzzing, fast and relentless. Screenshots, links, notifications one after another. She glanced at the headline: “Isla Quinn’s Past Exposed: From Shelter to Spotlight.” She froze for a second. The article didn’t shout. It didn’t go for drama. But the undertone was sharp, almost surgical. Seraphina Sharpe had written it precisely, coldly, every sentence designed to cut: “While many praise her for her poise and elegance, some have questioned the young woman’s history… including her time in foster care and temporary homes.”None of it was a lie. There was no exaggeration, no wild claims. Just facts, lined up and aimed straight at her. And it was dangerous.Isla didn’t react right away. She set her cup down, wiped her hands on a towel, and read the piece again. Every word felt intentional, like it was meant to shake her confidence. Or make everyone else question her.Her chest tightened a

Chapter 12: Shadows and Strategy

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

Chapter 13: Fault Lines

Ares Valtieri lived for routine. Seriously, he depended on it. Markets? Sure, they’d go up and down. People lied constantly. Power games, betrayal, the usual chaos. But well-designed ones followed orders. Systems kept disorder at bay. That’s how he maintained control.So when his tablet chimed with a report that felt… wrong, he was unsettled. Three issues had just, out of nowhere, resolved themselves overnight.A nosy journalist disappeared. Gone, as if it never mattered. A social media thread seeded by Seraphina Sharpe fizzled out before it could ignite.And he hadn’t touched any of it.Ares scrolled, jaw tight as iron. The fixes were neat. Too neat. As if someone had scrubbed a scene spotless.“She handled it,” his assistant said, voice wary, already guessing he wouldn’t be pleased.“She?”“Isla Quinn.”Her name had a new edge now. Not just some background piece. Suddenly a real variable.“When?”“Yesterday afternoon. She ran comms, kept it clean, and adjusted the timeline. No

Chapter 14: Close Quarters

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

Chapter 15: Lines Redrawn

Isla Quinn woke up before the city had even made up its mind to stir.That penthouse? Too quiet. Not the relaxing, “wow, I made it” sort of hush, more like the kind where the silence presses in, and the walls feel like they’re eavesdropping. Morning light slipped through the curtains, glancing off all those polished surfaces, but nothing reflected back. No warmth, no “good morning.” Just chill.On the other side of the bed? Pristine, like something behind glass. She sat up, set her feet on the cold floor just to prove she was still here. For a moment, her mind flickered to the elevator last night. That hesitation. That mistake. No. Not revisiting that.If last night had meant anything, maybe there’d be a message. Maybe a note. Instead? Just a folder, dropped like a briefing on the desk.Her name on the front, sharp and businesslike.She opened it up. Schedule. Precise, every minute measured.Breakfast meeting (she wasn’t on the list).Charity luncheon at noon.Private dinner with inve

Chapter 16: Quiet Shifts

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.

Chapter 17: The Long Way Home

Naturally, the night wrapped up exactly how it always did for Ares Valtieri half-empty champagne glasses glittering beneath crystal lights, applause that sounded canned, like laugh tracks from a sitcom, and grins stretched too wide to be real. Honestly, it felt like a rerun on loop.Isla Quinn followed behind, heels knocking on marble, her feet ached like hell. The pounding in her head made her blink, and the ballroom air was thick enough to choke on. Still, she played her part: graceful, composed, that “elegant lady” act she’d practiced to perfection. Every gesture, every smile, rehearsed to the last detail because that’s what they were.She was tired, clear down to her core.The doors hurled them into the biting New York chill. Cameras flashed immediately, hungry as sharks to blood. Ares threw the photographers his usual crooked grin, hand pressing firm at Isla’s lower back. Not affectionate, just a clear “mine, don’t touch.”“Eyes forward,” he muttered. “Say nothing.”She obeyed.S

Chapter 18: Standing Ground

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

Chapter 19: Controlled Silence

The city woke up loud, unapologetic.Isla Quinn noticed it first in those in-between seconds when her phone stilled, when footsteps faded down the corridor, when the elevator’s drone paused for half a beat. New York didn’t care that someone had been shot. It didn’t slow for fear, didn’t soften just because you needed space to mend.Ares Valtieri was already awake when she entered the living room.He stood at the window, phone pressed to his ear, body rigid and jaw set. His left shoulder still wouldn’t move right he winced slightly when he shifted. He acted like that didn’t count.“Push it back twenty-four hours,” he said, voice even. “No, not cancelled. Delayed.”He hung up, turned as soon as he sensed her.“You’re up early,” he said.“So are you.”His eyes went straight to the coffee in her hand. “You didn’t sleep.”“I did.” Not a lie, though not the whole truth.She’d slept a restless, light sleep, catching every sound, every shadow sharpening and dissolving along the walls.Ares gl

Chapter 20: Ghosts in the Dark

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

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