Isla's POV
I delete Vivienne's email without responding.
She wants a reaction. She wants me to beg or cry or fight. But I won't give her the satisfaction.
Instead, I look at my engagement ring—the ring that apparently never really belonged to me—and I make a decision that feels dangerous and powerful at the same time.
If Vivienne wants this ring so badly, she can have it. But on my terms.
I don't sleep. I can't. By the time the sun rises, I've planned everything down to the last detail.
At 6:30 AM, I'm in the kitchen making Ethan's breakfast like nothing's wrong. Eggs exactly how he likes them. Coffee with two sugars. Toast with butter on one side only.
Three years of learning his preferences. Three years of trying to be perfect for him.
Today is the last time I'll ever do this.
Ethan walks into the kitchen at 7:00 AM sharp, already dressed in his expensive suit. He's on his phone, texting someone. Probably her.
"Morning," he says without looking up.
"Morning," I reply, setting his plate on the table.
He sits down and eats while scrolling through his phone. We don't talk. We haven't really talked in weeks, I realize now. We've just been two strangers living in the same apartment.
"I'll be home late again," he says, still not looking at me. "That meeting tomorrow morning—we should probably discuss it tonight."
The meeting where he breaks up with me. Where he tells me he's choosing Vivienne.
"Sure," I say calmly. "We can talk tonight."
I won't be here tonight. But he doesn't need to know that.
He finishes eating, grabs his briefcase, and heads for the door. Then he pauses and turns back. For a moment, he actually looks at me—really looks at me.
"Isla..." He starts to say something, then stops. "Never mind. See you later."
And just like that, he's gone.
I stand in the kitchen, listening to the door close, listening to the elevator ding as it takes him down and away from me forever.
Then I move.
I pack fast and efficient. One suitcase with clothes, toiletries, and important documents. My laptop with all my Lumière Couture business files. My passport and bank cards.
Everything else stays. The designer purses he bought me. The jewelry from Tiffany's. The expensive dresses I wore to his business dinners. All of it feels dirty now, like evidence of a transaction instead of gifts from love.
I leave it all on the bed in a pile.
Then I sit down at the kitchen table and pull out a piece of paper. My hands are surprisingly steady as I write:
Ethan,
I won't be your stand-in. I won't be the woman you settle for while wishing I was someone else. Find happiness with the one you truly love. She's been waiting for you.
Don't try to find me. I'm done being invisible.
Goodbye,Isla
Short and simple. No begging. No anger. Just the truth.
I fold the note and leave it on the kitchen counter where he'll see it the moment he walks in.
Then I look down at my engagement ring. The diamond catches the morning light, throwing little rainbows across the table. It's beautiful. Expensive. And completely meaningless.
I slide it off my finger for the last time.
My hand feels lighter immediately. Freer.
I find an envelope in Ethan's office drawer and slip the ring inside. Then I write on the front in careful letters:
For Vivienne HartBlackwell Capital, 30th Floor
But I don't seal it yet. Because I have one more thing to add.
I go to my laptop and pull up my most important file—the one I've been building for five years. The one that proves who I really am.
I print out a single document. It's my company registration papers for Lumière Couture. My name listed as founder and CEO. Proof that I'm not just some nobody that Ethan settled for.
I fold it carefully and slide it into the envelope with the ring.
Let Vivienne see what she's actually competing against. Let her know that the woman she thought was beneath her is actually worth more than both of them combined.
I seal the envelope and slip it into my purse.
My phone buzzes. It's Marcus: "I'm outside your building. Get down here NOW. We need to talk."
I text back: "Coming."
I take one last look around the apartment. At the life I thought I was building. At the future that was never really mine.
Then I grab my suitcase and walk out, closing the door behind me with a soft click.
Marcus is waiting in his car at the curb. The moment I open the door, he pulls me into a hug.
"I'm so sorry," he whispers. "Jennifer called me this morning. She told me everything."
"I know about the ring," I say quietly. "Vivienne sent me a photo."
Marcus pulls back, his face furious. "She WHAT?"
"It doesn't matter." I show him the envelope. "I'm giving it to her anyway. On my way out."
"Isla, you don't have to—"
"Yes, I do." I look at him with steady eyes. "I need to do this. I need to choose to let go instead of having it taken from me."
Marcus studies my face, then nods slowly. "Okay. But I'm coming with you."
Twenty minutes later, we're standing in the lobby of Blackwell Capital. The same building where my heart broke just yesterday.
"You sure about this?" Marcus asks.
I nod and walk to the reception desk. The woman behind it looks up with a professional smile.
"I have a delivery for Vivienne Hart," I say calmly. "She's meeting with Mr. Blackwell on the 30th floor."
The receptionist's eyes flicker with recognition—she knows who I am. "Of course, Ms. Monroe. I can have someone take it up—"
"No," I interrupt. "I'll deliver it myself."
I walk to the elevators with Marcus beside me. My heart is pounding but my steps are steady.
When we reach the 30th floor, I can see through the glass walls of the conference room. Ethan, Vivienne, and a man in a suit who must be the lawyer.
They're laughing about something. Ethan looks happier than I've seen him in years.
Good. Let him be happy with her.
I walk to Ethan's assistant Jennifer's desk. She looks up, sees me, and her eyes widen.
"Ms. Monroe—"
"Give this to Vivienne Hart," I say, handing her the envelope. "Tell her it's a gift. From me."
Jennifer stares at the envelope, then at me. "Are you sure?"
"Very sure." I turn to leave, then pause. "Oh, and Jennifer? You're an excellent assistant. You deserve to work for someone who appreciates that."
As Marcus and I walk toward the elevator, I hear Jennifer's voice behind us: "Ms. Hart? Someone left this for you."
I don't turn around. I don't need to see Vivienne's reaction.
But just as the elevator doors start to close, I hear something that makes my blood run cold.
Vivienne's voice, loud and clear: "Oh my God. Is this what I think it is?"
Then Ethan's voice, confused: "What is it?"
And Vivienne's response makes my heart stop: "It's not just the ring, darling. It's proof that your sweet little fiancée has been lying to you this whole time. She's not who you think she is at all."
The elevator doors close, but I can hear shouting from the conference room.
Marcus grabs my arm. "What was in that envelope besides the ring?"
"My company documents," I whisper. "Proof that I'm the founder of Lumière Couture."
"Isla! He's going to know you're a multi-millionaire CEO! He's going to realize—"
The elevator doors open at the lobby and we practically run outside.
My phone starts buzzing. Ethan calling. I decline it.
It buzzes again immediately. Then again. Then a text: "ISLA WHAT THE HELL? CALL ME NOW."
Another text: "You own Lumière Couture?? We need to talk. NOW."
Then: "Where are you? Why is your ring with Vivienne?"
And finally: "Isla please. I can explain everything. Don't do anything crazy."
I turn my phone off completely.
"What now?" Marcus asks as we get into his car.
I take a deep breath and smile—really smile—for the first time in days.
"Now? Now I stop hiding. Take me to Lumière headquarters. It's time for Isla Monroe to step out of the shadows."
But as Marcus pulls into traffic, my phone—still off—lights up one more time with an emergency alert that bypasses the power off.
A news notification: "BREAKING: Blackwell Capital CEO in scandal as fiancée's secret identity revealed. Vivienne Hart claims fraud."
Fraud?
My hands start shaking as I turn the phone back on and click the article.
The headline makes me want to throw up: "Was Ethan Blackwell's Engagement a Business Scam? Ex-Fiancée Revealed as Secret CEO Worth $500 Million."
Vivienne didn't just tell Ethan the truth.
She told the media.
And she's spinning it like I'm the villain.