The following morning, Isla sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the flash drive Selene had given her. It felt heavier than it should, like a weight pressing against her palm, demanding her to uncover the pieces of a life she wasn't sure she was ready to remember.
Her reflection in the vanity mirror was almost unrecognizable. The woman staring back at her had determined eyes now—no longer wide with fear. She'd already come this far. There was no turning back.
Without hesitating, Isla plugged the flash drive into the slim laptop Damien had gifted her. Files flooded the screen: hidden contracts, offshore accounts, and a string of email exchanges between Damien, her father, and someone referred to only as M.
She opened the emails first.
"Selene refuses. She's getting cold feet."
"The debt stands. Isla will step in if Selene backs out."
"Keep it clean. No trace back to us."
Her throat tightened as she read through them, each line dragging her deeper into a web of betrayal.
There was a video file.
She clicked it.
The screen flickered, then showed a grainy recording of a meeting in a shadowed room. Damien sat at a long table, her father seated across from him. They weren't discussing a wedding—they were discussing an exchange.
Her father's voice was desperate. "The debts are crushing us. Selene doesn't want this life. But Isla… she's different. She wants this. She's willing."
Damien's face was unreadable in the video. "If Isla takes her place, the deal holds. But if anything goes wrong, the consequences fall on your family."
The video ended abruptly.
Isla's pulse thundered in her ears.
She had chosen this?
But had she really? Or had desperation pushed her into the arms of a man who could make all her father's problems disappear?
She slammed the laptop shut, her breath ragged.
That afternoon, she summoned Damien to the garden—a rare request, since she usually avoided him when she could.
When he arrived, his expression was carefully blank. "You wanted to see me?"
She held the flash drive out to him. "I saw everything."
He didn't flinch. "I know."
"You knew I'd find it eventually."
"I left it there for you to find."
Her hand trembled slightly. "Why?"
"Because you deserve to know the truth."
"Did I really choose this?" Her voice cracked despite her best effort to remain composed.
"You did."
She searched his face, desperately trying to read him. "Did I love you?"
His gaze softened, just slightly. "You did."
"And now?"
"That's for you to decide."
Her throat burned, tears pressing against her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
"What happens if I leave?"
"You can leave anytime. I won't stop you." His tone was calm, almost too calm. "But if you walk away, you're not just leaving me. You're walking away from protection. From the life you fought to step into. The people who wanted Selene won't just forget because you've changed your mind."
"Then what am I supposed to do? Keep playing this part?"
"Decide whether you still want it."
The silence between them stretched, heavy and thick.
"I don't know who I am," Isla whispered.
"You're Isla Blackstone," Damien said firmly. "You always have been. You always will be."
"But was that a choice or a prison?"
His lips twitched with something close to sorrow. "Does it matter?"
Isla turned and walked away, clutching the flash drive in her fist.
That night, she found herself in the quiet corner of the penthouse, replaying the video again and again. She scribbled names, timelines, and details into a leather notebook, piecing together the puzzle.
One name kept surfacing—Marcus Vail.
M.
Her father's emails repeatedly referenced him, the man pulling strings behind the scenes. The one who would collect if the deal ever fell apart.
She needed to find him.
If she wanted real freedom, she couldn't just escape Damien. She had to face Marcus.
She would no longer live in a version of life someone else had built for her.
The following morning, Isla requested a car.
Damien watched her from the doorway as she packed a small bag.
"Where are you going?"
"To find answers you can't give me."
"I can send someone with you."
"I need to do this alone."
A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he didn't argue.
As she approached the elevator, he called after her. "Isla."
She turned.
"I was never your captor. You chose me."
The elevator doors closed between them.
The city felt different now. Less intimidating. Less like a maze and more like a battlefield.
Isla tracked down a private investigator's office using contacts she found buried in the files. The investigator, a sharp-eyed woman named Talia, was expecting her.
"I was paid to look into you a few months ago," Talia admitted, flipping through her file. "But someone called me off. Told me the case was closed."
"Do you still have the reports?"
Talia slid a thin folder across the table. "Your father's debts weren't just financial. He crossed dangerous people. Marcus Vail was the worst of them. You marrying Damien was a shield, a way to erase that debt."
"Why did Selene run?"
"Because she was in love with someone else. Someone she couldn't have if she married Damien."
The room spun.
"What happened to him?"
Talia's gaze hardened. "Dead. Car explosion. Looked like an accident, but… someone wanted him gone."
Isla's heart sank. "Did Damien do it?"
Talia hesitated, then shook her head. "I don't know. But your sister believes he did."
Isla's hands trembled as she closed the folder. Her life was not a love story—it was a carefully orchestrated power move, a chessboard with bloodstained squares.
But she wasn't a pawn anymore.
She was learning how to play.
As she left the investigator's office, her phone buzzed.
A single message from Damien:
"Come home, Isla. It's not safe for you out there."
She ignored it.
She had a meeting to arrange—with Marcus Vail.
If Damien wasn't the villain, maybe he was just the lesser of two evils.
But Isla wasn't interested in choosing between devils.
She would burn their game to the ground.