Isla's POV
Did you kill my parents?
The question hangs in the air like a death sentence.
Damien stands frozen in the doorway, his face carved from stone. Behind him, I can hear staff whispering in the hallway, their voices carrying the news that's probably already spreading across the internet.
Billionaire guardian under investigation for murder.
Answer me! My voice cracks. Did. You. Kill. Them?
Isla
Don't say my name like that. Don't use that gentle voice you use when you're trying to manipulate me. I stand, my whole body shaking. Just tell me the truth. For once in six years, tell me the actual truth.
Elias clears his throat. I'll give you two privacy.
No. I grab his arm. Stay. I want a witness for whatever lies he's about to tell.
Damien's jaw clenches. Elias, leave us.
With respect, sir, I think the young lady has a point.
For a moment, I think Damien will explode. His hands curl into fists, and I can see the violence barely contained beneath his perfect suit.
Then he laughs—a bitter, broken sound I've never heard from him before.
Fine. You want witnesses? Let's call the whole staff. Let's livestream this. He pulls out his phone. Better yet, let me call my lawyers. Because in about six hours, the police will be here with a warrant for my arrest.
My legs give out. I sink back into the chair. So it's true.
It's complicated.
Murder isn't complicated! Either you killed them or you didn't!
I didn't kill them. His voice is flat, emotionless. But I'm responsible for their deaths. Is that what you want to hear?
The room spins. I think I might throw up.
Elias puts a steadying hand on my shoulder. Miss Isla, perhaps you should sit down properly. You've gone very pale.
I'm fine. I force myself to look at Damien. Explain. Now.
Damien moves to the window, staring out at the dark grounds. When he speaks, his voice is distant, like he's reciting someone else's story.
Your father and I were partners. Friends, even. But six years ago, he became convinced I was embezzling from the company. He wasn't wrong to be suspicious—someone was stealing, cooking the books, moving money offshore. But it wasn't me.
Then who?
Julian. Damien turns to face me. Your uncle had access to the accounts through your father. He'd been stealing for years, small amounts that wouldn't be noticed. But when the company started growing, he got greedy.
I want to interrupt, to call him a liar, but something in his voice makes me stay silent.
Your father discovered the theft and blamed me. He had circumstantial evidence—I'd made some questionable investments that looked suspicious. He threatened to go to the police, to the board, to destroy me. Damien's hands clench. I was desperate. Everything I'd built was about to collapse. So I hired someone.
My breath stops. Who?
A private investigator. Someone to find proof that Julian was the real thief, to clear my name before your father could destroy me. He closes his eyes. But I made a mistake. I hired someone through a third party, someone I didn't vet properly. Someone who had their own agenda.
What did they do?
They cut your parents' brake lines. The words come out flat, dead. I found out three hours after the accident. The investigator called me, bragging about 'solving my problem permanently.' I went to the police immediately, turned over everything I had. But by then, your parents were already dead.
Silence.
I can't breathe. Can't think.
The investigator disappeared before the police could arrest him. Probably left the country. The case went cold. Damien's voice cracks. So yes, Isla. I'm responsible for your parents' deaths. I hired the man who killed them. That's the truth.
Elias's hand tightens on my shoulder, steadying me.
Why didn't you tell me? I whisper.
Because you were twelve years old and traumatized. Because telling you would have destroyed you. He finally looks at me, and his eyes are raw with pain. And because I'm a coward who couldn't face losing you.
So you took me in? Became my guardian? That makes no sense!
Your father's will named me. He'd written it years before, when we were still friends. I could have refused, let you go into the foster system or to Julian. Damien's voice drops. But the thought of you alone, unprotected, with no one who knew your parents—I couldn't do it. So I became your guardian, telling myself it was penance. A way to protect you since I'd failed to protect them.
That's insane.
I know. A bitter smile crosses his face. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being penance and became something else. You stopped being Marcus's daughter and became just... Isla. The girl who looked at me with trust instead of fear. Who made me want to be better than I am.
Tears stream down my face. You should have told me.
I know.
I deserved to know!
I know. He takes a step toward me, then stops. But I was selfish. I wanted to keep you, protect you, pretend I could make up for what I'd done. And yes—I fell in love with you. Which makes me even more of a monster.
Before I can respond, the doorbell rings. Loud, official.
Elias moves to the window and goes pale. Sir... it's the police.
Damien doesn't look surprised. Just tired. That was faster than I expected.
What do we do? Elias asks.
You let them in. I'll cooperate fully. Damien straightens his tie, his mask sliding back into place. Isla, I want you to know—everything I've done, every manipulation, every control—it was never about the company or the money. It was about keeping you safe. And yes, keeping you close. I'm sorry I couldn't be the man you deserved.
Damien
Heavy knocking on the door. Police! We have a warrant for Damien Blackwood!
Elias looks between us, torn. Sir...
Answer the door. Damien's voice is calm, controlled. Like he's heading into a business meeting instead of an arrest.
Elias leaves reluctantly. I hear the front door open, voices in the hallway.
I stand, crossing to Damien. Did you really love me? Or is that another lie?
He reaches out slowly, cupping my face with both hands. I love you more than anything in this world. That's the one truth I've never lied about.
Then he leans down and kisses me.
It's nothing like I imagined. Not desperate or hungry or possessive. It's gentle, almost reverent. Like goodbye.
When he pulls back, his eyes are sad. I'm sorry, little one. For everything.
Heavy footsteps pound up the stairs.
Damien Blackwood? A police officer appears in the doorway, hand on his gun. You're under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder and obstruction of justice.
They read him his rights while putting handcuffs on his wrists. Damien doesn't resist, doesn't fight. Just lets them lead him away.
At the door, he looks back at me one last time. Elias will take care of you. Trust him. And Isla? Don't visit me. Don't wait for me. Just... live your life.
Then he's gone.
I stand there, frozen, while the police search his study. Take his computer, his files, everything.
Elias returns after they leave, his face grave. Miss Isla, I need you to pack a bag.
What? Why?
Because in about two hours, this place will be swarming with reporters. You need to leave before they arrive.
Where would I go?
I've arranged for you to stay with Harper's family. They've agreed to keep you until this settles.
I nod numbly, too shocked to argue.
I'm halfway up the stairs when my phone rings. Unknown number.
Against my better judgment, I answer. Hello?
Isla Hartley? A woman's voice, smooth and cold. My name is Victoria Ashford. I'm sure Damien's mentioned me.
His ex-fiancée. The one he left when he took me in.
What do you want?
To help you. I know what it's like to be manipulated by Damien Blackwood. To believe his lies, his control is love. Her voice softens. But you need to know something. That article? The one that exposed him? I'm the one who leaked it.
My blood runs cold. Why?
Because six years ago, he promised to marry me. Then you came along, and suddenly I wasn't enough. He was obsessed with a twelve-year-old girl. Venom fills her voice. I've spent six years watching him groom you, isolate you, turn you into his perfect little doll. And I decided enough was enough.
You destroyed his life for revenge?
I destroyed his life for justice. She pauses. But here's the thing, sweetheart. I didn't just expose the accident. I also have evidence of other things. Things Damien did to keep you under his control. Things that will prove he's been manipulating you since you were a child.
What things?
Meet me tomorrow. The Plaza, room 1847. Come alone, and I'll show you everything. Her voice hardens. Then you can decide for yourself whether the man who just kissed you is a monster or a martyr.
She hangs up.
I stare at the phone, my whole world tilting.
Harper arrives twenty minutes later, pulling me into a fierce hug. I saw the news. Oh my God, Isla. Are you okay?
I don't know. I pull back, looking at my best friend. Harper, I need to tell you something. About Damien. About us.
We go to my room, and I tell her everything. The confession, the kiss, the love, the lies, all of it.
Harper's face grows more serious with each revelation.
Isla, she says carefully when I finish. This is... this is really messed up.
I know.
No, I mean seriously messed up. He raised you. The power dynamic is completely wrong.
I pursued him! I wanted this!
Did you? Harper grabs my hands. Or did he make you think you wanted it? Think about it—he's controlled your entire life for six years. Every boy who looked at you disappeared. Every friend had to be approved. You've never had a choice that wasn't filtered through him. How do you know your feelings are real and not just... Stockholm syndrome or something?
The words hit like a slap.
That's not
Isla, I love you. But you've been isolated in this mansion with a man who admits he's obsessed with you since you were twelve. That's not romance. That's grooming.
He never touched me until today!
Physical touch isn't the only way to manipulate someone. Harper's eyes are sad. Emotional manipulation, isolation, making you dependent on him for everything—those are all forms of control.
I want to argue, to defend Damien, to explain that what we have is different.
But doubt creeps in.
What if she's right? What if everything I feel for Damien is just a product of six years of manipulation?
I don't know what's real anymore, I whisper.
Harper pulls me into another hug. Then let's figure it out together. Away from him, away from this house, where you can think clearly.
We pack my things in silence. I'm almost done when I notice something.
The diamond bracelet Damien gave me for my birthday sits on my dresser.
I pick it up, and something falls out—a tiny piece of paper, folded impossibly small.
I unfold it with shaking hands.
In Damien's handwriting: If you're reading this, then you know the truth. I don't expect forgiveness. I don't deserve it. But know this—every moment with you was worth whatever punishment comes. You were my salvation, even if I was your ruin. –D
He knew. He knew this would happen.
And he gave me the bracelet anyway.