The restaurant Marcus Vail had chosen for their meeting was one of those places where powerful men hid in plain sight—discreet, expensive, tucked away behind thick velvet curtains and guarded by silence.
Isla arrived early. Her pulse was steady, but her mind raced.
She didn't know what Marcus Vail looked like. She only knew his name carried enough weight to crush her family, and possibly Damien.
When he appeared, he did so without fanfare. A tall man with silver hair, dressed sharply in a dark coat, moved to her table as if he'd known her all his life.
"Mrs. Blackstone," he greeted smoothly, sliding into the seat across from her. "Or should I call you Isla? Or Selene? Seems you've worn both names at some point."
His voice was cold silk. Calculated.
"I'm Isla," she said firmly.
His smile was faint, disarming. "Good. I always preferred Isla."
She cut straight to the point. "Why did you want Selene to marry Damien?"
"It was about leverage. Damien's empire is… expansive. Marriage would have solidified our shared interests. Selene was the chosen bride because she was the more obedient one. Or so I thought."
"She ran."
"And you stepped in." His eyes glimmered with amusement. "That was quite the surprise."
"Did Damien kill the man Selene loved?"
Marcus's smile tightened. "What do you think?"
"I want to hear it from you."
"I didn't need to have him killed. He was inconvenient, but accidents happen when you owe dangerous people money. Damien isn't as ruthless as people think."
"You're lying."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps you're searching for a villain when the truth is much messier."
He leaned forward, his fingers steepled. "You married Damien to protect your father. You did it willingly. Even knowing what it meant."
"Damien told me that, too."
"Of course he did. But you don't trust him, do you?"
Isla's jaw clenched.
"You've spent so long looking for someone to blame," Marcus continued, his tone almost pitying. "But you knew the stakes. You knew the deal."
"If I walk away from Damien now, do you come after me?"
"I have no interest in you anymore. Our arrangement was tied to your father's debts. Damien paid them in full, with interest. You're… free."
His easy dismissal unsettled her.
"So why meet me?"
"Curiosity. I wanted to see the woman who traded her freedom for a throne."
His words stung.
Marcus rose, buttoning his coat. "Be careful, Mrs. Blackstone. Freedom isn't always what you think it is."
With that, he left.
The days that followed unraveled Isla.
She spent hours walking the city, thinking, avoiding Damien's calls. She didn't know if Marcus was telling the truth or simply playing with her mind, but something about his words lingered.
When she finally returned to the mansion, Damien was waiting.
"You met with Marcus," he said quietly.
"You knew."
"I know everything you do."
"That's not comforting."
"I never meant to comfort you, Isla."
She dropped her bag onto the couch, her exhaustion overtaking her. "He said I was free. That you paid the debt."
"I did."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you weren't ready to leave."
Her chest constricted. "I don't know if I love you."
"I know."
"I don't know if I hate you either."
A flicker of pain crossed his face. "You have every right to do both."
She studied him, her mind drifting back to the videos, the emails, the pieces she'd forced together. "You let me take Selene's place."
"You begged me to let you."
"I don't remember that."
"But your heart does."
The air between them pulsed with tension.
"I don't trust you."
Damien's expression didn't falter. "I'm not asking you to."
"But I need to understand you."
"Then stay."
"For how long?"
"As long as you need."
Isla moved past him, heading toward her room. "I'm not here because I trust you, Damien. I'm here because I want to win."
His faint smile followed her down the hall. "Then let the games begin."
That night, she dug deeper into the files Selene had given her. There were business ties Damien hadn't disclosed, quiet power plays she suspected he used to keep Marcus at bay.
It wasn't just about her.
Damien had enemies. More than Marcus. Men who didn't care about wedding vows or traded brides.
And somehow, she was becoming part of that war.
But she wasn't afraid.
Not anymore.
The next morning, Damien invited her to the rooftop garden.
"I want to show you something," he said, leading her to a secluded corner where a table had been set for breakfast.
A delicate porcelain box rested in the center.
"What's this?"
He opened it, revealing a simple gold band. "Your wedding ring."
Her chest tightened. "You never gave it to me."
"You lost it during the accident. I kept it, hoping you'd remember."
She picked it up, turning it in her fingers. It felt heavy.
"You don't have to wear it," he said quietly. "But I wanted you to have it."
The gesture was disarming. Genuine.
"Why me, Damien? Why did you let me take her place?"
He looked at her then, something raw flickering in his eyes.
"Because I didn't want Selene."
Her breath caught.
"I wanted you," he said simply. "I always did."
The ring trembled in her hand.
"You don't remember, but you used to smile when you looked at me."
"That was before."
"And maybe it can be again."
Isla didn't give him an answer. She slipped the ring into her pocket and walked away, leaving him staring after her.
The walls of her life were no longer cages—they were battlegrounds. The pieces were still scattered, but she had time to gather them.
The war wasn't over.
It was only beginning.
And this time, Isla Blackstone was playing by her own rules.