Isabel Jones felt like she was one breath away from breaking. Her voice shook with raw emotion as she faced Maximilian Riley. “You're proposing—and you want me to help your fiancée...? Maximilian, how are you any different from your sister? Why are you so cruel to me?”

Maximilian's expression hardened. “Are you really going to make a scene?” Frustration bled into his voice.

Isabel could barely breathe. The realization crushed her: Maximilian would never give her what she truly wanted. Then he spoke again. “Even if I don't end up marrying Kayleigh, I'll still marry someone else in the end. Maybe a Fitzgerald. Maybe a Lennox. But never you. Do you understand?”

His words cut deep. Isabel let out a bitter laugh. “I never expected you to marry me. I know my place... I knew we'd end eventually.”

“Isabel, be realistic. We're adults. As long as you behave, when this is over, I won't leave you high and dry. You can pick any house in Silver Bay. I'll give you a car, money—whatever you need.” Maximilian rose and closed the distance between them. “Be here first thing tomorrow.”

“Maximilian, I want to get married too,” Isabel said, numb. Her voice was flat, hollow, stripped of hope.

Maximilian paused and glanced back at her. Tears welled in her eyes, uncontrollable. “I'm serious,” she said.

“Get some rest. I'll pretend you're just acting out. When you're really ready to end this—and you want marriage—let me know. I'll find you a promising young man from a modest family—someone on the company staff.” Maximilian said it as if he were granting her a grand favor, then left.

He was confident that, with Isabel's background, she'd never land a decent man. He believed he'd been more than patient with her. Marriage and legitimacy were off the table—but in every other way, he could satisfy her.

Isabel smiled bitterly and sank weakly to the floor. Maximilian had used her for four years. Now that he was tired of her, he planned to marry her off to some low-level employee he could keep under his thumb. He controlled her now, and he expected to control her future marriage, too.

Maximilian's cruelty had no limits.

But it didn't matter. Tonight, Isabel was going to meet Mr. Alexander—someone even Maximilian wouldn't dare cross. Marrying Mr. Alexander would put an end to everything.

...

The next day, at Riverview Villa, unease settled in Isabel's stomach. The lavish mansion was a world away from her small rented apartment—the one Maximilian had provided, less a home than a gilded cage.

“Ah, the assistant has arrived,” Kayleigh Fernandez greeted her, offering a smile that looked almost genuine. Kayleigh wore the role of hostess like she'd been born to it—as if the mansion itself had been waiting for her.

Isabel had once dreamed of marrying Maximilian and becoming the lady of the house. But thoughts like that only reminded her how badly she fit into this world of luxury.

“I brought you a gift,” Isabel said, holding out a box of homemade spiced honey cake—a gesture more sentimental than valuable. It was the same cake she often made for the children at the orphanage.

Kayleigh glanced at the cake, then at Maximilian. “Oh? I think I saw this same cake in Maximilian's car,” she said, her smile sweet but barbed.

Maximilian's expression darkened, his mood shifting on a dime. He assumed Isabel had brought it on purpose—maybe to provoke Kayleigh. But Isabel hadn't known he'd ever kept her cake in his car.

“I made a batch once and left some at the office because Maximilian kept skipping breakfast,” Isabel rushed to explain, her fingers trembling with anxiety. Her depression had begun to manifest physically, worsening over time.

“I see. Maximilian must really like your cake if he took it with him,” Kayleigh remarked, her voice smooth and edged with quiet malice.

Isabel stood there awkwardly and lowered her head, desperate to avoid more misunderstanding. Maximilian would surely think she was trying to stir up trouble.

“Probably tossed them out. My assistant salvaged them for himself and left them in the car,” Maximilian replied dismissively.

Isabel's body went rigid. Trash. To Maximilian, the cake she'd painstakingly made—burning her hands in the process—was trash.

Kayleigh motioned for Isabel to follow, handing her disposable slippers while everyone else wore house slippers. The message was clear: Isabel was only temporary here.

Maximilian noticed the difference but said nothing—silently agreeing that Isabel's presence was only temporary.

“Let me introduce you to my friends,” Kayleigh announced, leading Isabel into the coffee room.

Isabel gave a quick bow. When she lifted her head, it felt like she'd plunged into an icy abyss.

Six people sat in the coffee room. Three of them were her old college classmates—the ones who had tormented her mercilessly.

Among them were Francis Wood, David Fernandez, and Lydia Jones...

Isabel's body locked up. She was trembling all over, unable to stop. She looked at Maximilian helplessly.

Maybe Kayleigh didn't know her history—but Maximilian surely did. He had known Kayleigh would invite these people, and he'd still forced Isabel to come.

Was he trying to push her past her breaking point?

Maximilian made a point of avoiding Isabel’s gaze, then shot Ruby a warning look before heading to the study. Even when Isabel begged him with her eyes, he acted like she wasn’t there—punishing her for what he thought she’d done: tried to provoke Kayleigh with that spiced honey cake.

Ruby smirked, and David and Lydia laughed with her. Sharp. Cruel. The kind of laugh meant to cut.

“Come join us, little assistant,” Kayleigh called sweetly, crooking a finger at Isabel.

But Isabel stayed rooted to the spot, her legs heavy as lead, buried under memories of the bullying she’d endured at the hands of these three.

“Well, if it isn’t Isabel—the belle of our college,” David mocked.

Kayleigh feigned surprise. “You two were classmates? Then play nice.”

Frozen in place, Isabel had only one thought: run.

“Kayleigh…” Isabel’s voice trembled. “I—I just remembered something urgent at home. I have to go…”

She spun around and tried to flee, but her legs buckled, sending her crashing to the floor.

“Let’s help our dear old classmate,” Ruby offered, already moving toward her.

God, Isabel wanted to run. She wanted it so badly. But her body locked up, paralyzed by the past these three represented.

“Can’t get up?” David sneered, grabbing her by the collar and yanking her to her feet. “The campus queen’s losing her nerve again?”

Isabel ducked her head. Her left ear throbbed with a pain she knew too well, her skin pulled tight as she struggled to break free.

There was no way out.

“Maximilian is marrying my sister. You’ve been sniffing around my brother-in-law. How’re you gonna explain that?” David taunted, slinging an arm around Isabel’s shoulders and steering her outside.

David lived for excuses to torment her. Freshman year, he’d chased her relentlessly. Back then, she hadn’t realized she’d caught the attention of a monster.

Rejecting him in public started the nightmare.

After that, David used her rejection as an excuse to strip her, take humiliating photos, burn her with cigarettes, and let Ruby and Lydia beat her. They locked her in a wooden box. Made her sleep in public restrooms…

If she refused, they threatened to get her kicked out of school—and to go after the kids at the orphanage.

She was the only kid from the orphanage to make it to college—their one beacon of hope. She couldn’t risk losing that.

So she swallowed her pride, no matter how much it hurt.

“Speak up!” Lydia kicked her, impatient. “Why so quiet? Maximilian doesn’t want you. Didn’t you hear? Cross us, and we’ll shut down that precious orphanage of yours!”

Lying in the grass, Isabel brushed dirt off her arms. She was supposed to meet Mr. Alexander tonight in this outfit… She’d wanted to make a good impression. That felt pointless now.

“Can’t speak or hear?” Lydia slapped her across the face.

A housekeeper passed by, saw everything, pretended she didn’t, and kept walking.

Everyone at the estate looked the other way while those three tore her apart.

Isabel didn’t beg. She didn’t plead. She just sat there, stubborn and defiant through every taunt and blow.

Once, David asked what she thought about while they hit her. Isabel never answered.

The truth? She thought about not living. About revenge. If she fought back, it wouldn’t be hard.

But every time, she thought of the orphanage kids. What would happen to them if she was gone?

The director had poured everything into Isabel, her only high achiever. Isabel couldn’t repay that by dying before she gave back.

Maximilian sent her money now and then—never much. He’d given her a supplementary card for personal use.

What did Isabel buy with it? A handbag over four thousand dollars—her most rebellious purchase ever.

While she studied, she worked three part-time jobs a day and sent every cent to the orphanage.

“Ugh, boring,” David complained, leaning against the wall to smoke.

Ruby glanced at him. “Maximilian doesn’t want her anymore, and you always have. Why not take your shot?”

David’s eyes flickered, but he sneered. “Who wants used goods?”

Isabel stood, ignored all three of them, and walked away.

“What the—? Is she asking for it?” Lydia, the hothead of the group, couldn’t stand Isabel’s attitude. Used to being treated like royalty, she lashed out and knocked Isabel into the estate’s decorative pool.

It was November in Newport. The water was freezing.

Isabel surfaced and wiped her face. Tears or pool water—she couldn’t tell, and it didn’t matter.

“Had enough?”

Maximilian stepped out as things escalated.

Deep down, Isabel knew Maximilian wouldn’t step in with Kayleigh there. He knew those three would hurt her, but he wanted Kayleigh to feel safe, to erase her doubts.

For the woman he loved, Maximilian chose to sacrifice Isabel.

Kayleigh followed him out and looked at Isabel with practiced surprise. “Little assistant, how did you end up in the water?”

“She fell in by herself…” Lydia said, guilt bleeding through.

Isabel climbed out and met Maximilian’s gaze head-on. He said nothing.

“Sorry. I’ll go home…” Isabel gasped, desperate to get away.

“Isabel…” Maximilian called after her. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he instinctively stepped forward, then stopped himself for Kayleigh’s sake. “I’ll have the driver take you.”

Isabel glanced back at him one last time. A faint smile touched her lips. “No need.”

In that moment, she vowed it would be the last time she looked at Maximilian Riley with anything like love.

Watching her leave, soaked and broken, Maximilian felt a heavy weight settle in his chest. Regret whispered through him—though he didn’t understand why.

…

Riverview Villa.

Isabel couldn’t go home to change.

Lucky for her, Maximilian’s place wasn’t far from Mr. Alexander’s residence. Fifteen minutes later, she arrived.

She’d first met Mr. Alexander at Newport’s most exclusive club. That night, Maximilian was entertaining a businessman from Ireland—Mr. Alexander himself.

She was delivering a coat for Maximilian when she first laid eyes on Mr. Alexander.

His friends said Isabel was exactly his type.

Right in front of Maximilian, Mr. Alexander asked for her number. Maximilian didn’t object.

Maybe Mr. Alexander was an important client.

Later, Mr. Alexander asked her to dinner. She refused. Then he proposed a contract marriage—so terrifying that Isabel blocked him.

But now, Mr. Alexander was her only lifeline.

She wanted to marry. To escape Maximilian Riley and Newport. She needed Mr. Alexander’s influence, needed to grow stronger, to earn enough to support the orphanage kids.

Isabel Jones stood outside the door, nerves wound tight, and rang the bell.

When the housekeeper opened it, surprise flickered across her face at the sight of Isabel—soaked, rumpled, barely put together. “Miss Jones...”

Isabel wasn't sure how much to explain, so she only nodded when the housekeeper ushered her in. “Come in, dear,” the woman said warmly, handing her a pair of slippers and a shawl. “Mr. Alexander's on a video call, but he told me to expect you. Why don't you wait in the living room? I'll fix you some coffee.”

Gratitude welled up in Isabel, unexpected and almost painful. The housekeeper's kindness settled something in her chest. Still, she scanned the room warily, not daring to sit in case she ruined Mr. Alexander's pristine sofa.

Everything in the space whispered wealth and precision—the kind of effortless elegance money couldn't buy on its own.

Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long. Raiden Alexander emerged from his study. He wore casual clothes, his hair still damp and a little mussed from a recent shower.

Raiden looked about the same age as Maximilian Riley, but his presence hit harder—sharp, magnetic, the kind that could hold its own under Hollywood lights. Isabel's resolve wobbled. Why would a man like him—successful, impossibly put together—want to marry her?

“Mr. Alexander,” she managed.

Raiden's gaze swept over her soaked, messy state, and surprise flickered across his face. “Did you just rescue someone? What happened to you?”

Isabel ducked her head, embarrassed—and startled by the unexpected tease.

“Margaret, get her cleaned up and find her something to wear.” Raiden's brow furrowed as he studied Isabel. “Anyone would think a stray had wandered in.”

But despite the jab, he retrieved some cold medicine, mixed it into a glass of water, and handed it to her.

Isabel blinked, thrown by the gesture. Kindness had never come easily to her. “Thank... thank you.”

“Drink this, then take a hot shower. We'll talk after.” He set a document on the table—a prenuptial agreement, from the look of it.

Isabel nodded, downed the medicine in one gulp, and followed Margaret without another word, like a moth pulled toward the light.

Raiden watched her go, faintly amused. Did she even notice the water was hot or the medicine bitter? She'd swallowed it all without a flicker.

She was... interesting.

...

After her shower, Isabel found clean, comfortable clothes waiting in the guest room—an oversized T-shirt and shorts.

Margaret knocked before stepping in, a warm smile on her face. “These are my niece's. She stayed with us not long ago. They're new—freshly washed. I hope you don't mind.”

Isabel shook her head quickly. “Not at all... I just—I'd hate to get them dirty.”

“Don't worry about that, Miss Jones. She has plenty, and you're welcome to keep this set.” She smiled and left a cup of coffee behind.

Once dressed, Isabel studied herself. Her long legs were pale and slim, but bruises and adhesive marks from the car accident mottled her skin—ugly reminders of a brutal day.

It took longer than it should have to dry her hair and gather the nerve to face Raiden.

Raiden was in the living room, finishing a call. Isabel hovered by the wall, afraid to interrupt.

When he noticed her, he ended the call and picked up the prenup. “Ready to talk?”

Isabel nodded and stepped closer. “What are your terms, Mr. Alexander?”

Raiden set the document down. “Marry me. Three to five years. We won't divorce until my grandfather passes. No marital duties required. It stays secret. You play the devoted granddaughter-in-law. During the marriage, you'll have a supplementary card and can use it as you like. After the divorce, you'll get a property in Newport. The rest is in the contract.”

Isabel stared at him, stunned. This wasn't a proposal. It was a business deal.

And yet the terms were generous. Almost too good to be true.

A husband in name only, free access to his money, and a house after divorce? It made no sense.

“What about studying abroad?” Isabel asked, eager to test the one possibility that actually mattered to her.

The offer was tempting—God, it was. But Isabel knew the real prize wasn't money. Money could run out. The ability to stand on her own two feet was what would keep her safe after she left Maximilian Riley.

Raiden watched her, thoughtful. The moment she said studying abroad, her eyes lit up—nothing like her reaction to the money or the property.

“I can support your study abroad. But let's be clear.” His voice stayed even. “I need a secret marriage, and only for my grandfather's sake.”

Isabel began to understand why he'd chosen her—an orphan with no background—for a contract marriage. Marrying someone of equal status would only complicate the eventual divorce. His marriage was duty, not love. A parentless orphan like her came with the fewest strings.

Raiden clearly thought he'd offered her more than enough to keep her from causing trouble later.

“I chose you for two reasons. One, at the club, I saw how patient and attentive you were with Maximilian. My grandfather would appreciate that in a granddaughter-in-law. Two, you refused several offers. That told me you're not greedy. But if you want to study abroad, it has to wait until after my grandfather passes—and after the divorce.”

He gave a small, apologetic shrug.

His terms were clear. He wanted Isabel to be emotional comfort for his grandfather. Studying abroad meant long absences—something the marriage couldn't accommodate.

Disappointment flickered across Isabel's face. Senior year was the perfect time to apply abroad—the age to seize opportunities. Waiting three to five years could mean missing her window entirely.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Alexander...” Isabel said, regret threading through her voice. As tempting as it was to become Mrs. Alexander—with a generous annual allowance—she wanted to seize this moment to build her own future.

“No rush.” Raiden's tone softened, just barely. “Aside from studying abroad during the marriage, the other terms are negotiable. My assistant will contact you again in a week.” It was his way of giving her another chance.

Isabel stood quietly, decision made. If this didn't work out, she'd chase scholarships and work herself to the bone to pay for her education.

“Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Alexander. I'll get going now.” She glanced down at the borrowed clothes, gratitude knotting her throat. “And thank you—for the medicine and the clothes.”

Raiden's gaze dropped to her legs, now visible. The bruises and marks from the crash stood out violently against her pale skin.

“I had a minor car accident recently,” Isabel said quickly. “These are from that.”

Raiden didn't ask anything else. “It's late. It's not safe for you to leave like this. I'll have my assistant drive you.”

Isabel wanted to refuse, but Raiden had already called for his assistant. So she accepted.

…

Outside Isabel's apartment, Maximilian Riley parked and checked the time before calling her. No answer. He rubbed his temples. Maybe he'd pushed too far today. He thought about picking something up as an apology.

He was just about to get out when a black Maybach pulled up. Isabel climbed out, thanked the driver, and limped toward her building.

Maximilian's face went dark. Where the hell had she been this late?