Isla's POV

The night my children almost burned alive, it wasn't an accident.

It was Sofia Carlucci-my husband's cousin. The orphan he raised like a sister.

Flames roared through the nursery wing. Smoke clawed down the hallway as I fought my way inside, choking on the heat.

My son was screaming, trapped behind a fallen beam. My daughter was coughing weakly in her bed, her tiny body curled like a ball of ash.

I dragged them both out with blistered hands, skin raw from the fire's bite. By the time the firefighters arrived, the ceiling had collapsed. The nursery was gone.

At the hospital, doctors pumped oxygen into my children's lungs. My daughter would recover. My son’s skin bore burns he’d never outgrow.

When the investigation report landed on my desk the next day, the truth nearly split me in half.

Sofia had slipped out of the house minutes before the fire began. The security cameras caught her.

I brought the report to Javier. My hands shook as I threw it in front of him.

"She did this. Sofia set the fire on my three year olds!."

He didn't even flinch. He only lit a cigar, the smoke curling around his unreadable eyes.

"She panicked," he said. "She was drunk. It was a mistake."

My throat scorched. "A mistake? She nearly killed our children and deserves prison!"

"She lost her entire family in a plane crash," he replied calmly. "I promised my uncle I would take care of her. I won't send her to prison."

"Javier!" My voice cracked. "Look at our son’s burns! Look at his face! He’ll carry these scars forever because of your precious cousin you protect like a queen!"

His gaze hardened. “Enough. Drop it, Isla.”

“No,” I spat, trembling. “I already pressed charges. I won’t stop until she pays.”

The silence that followed was worse than shouting. His eyes went flat, cold, and I knew then—he wasn’t shocked. He was waiting for this.

“You left me no choice,” he said, pulling out his phone. A single tap. Within minutes, a breaking headline flashed across the television mounted on the wall.

CEO’s Wife’s Recklessness Nearly Kills Children—Sources Say Isla Started A Fire.

Photos of me outside the house scrolled across the screen, my hair singed, my hands shaking.

I froze. “What… what did you do?”

Javier’s lips curled, satisfaction dark in his eyes. “I told the world you left candles burning. That you were careless. Unstable. Public opinion already agrees with me.”

The blood drained from my face. “You… you painted me as a monster?”

He exhaled smoke, slow and deliberate. "If you keep pushing this, I'll petition for custody. You'll lose the children in court before you can blink. And don't forget about your mother's foundation."

My chest seized. "No—"

"Donors are already calling me," he cut in smoothly.

"They don't want your name tied to theirs. Drop this, Isla, or the board will vote you out by morning."

It hit me like ice water. He knew exactly where to cut deepest. My children—and my mother’s legacy.

After her death, I had poured everything into that foundation. Building scholarships, shelters, food drives. I had promised her it would live on.

And the bitter twist? It was my mother’s board that voted to save Javier’s company when it was circling bankruptcy.

And now he was using it as a knife against me.

“I can still repair your reputation,” he added silkily. “I’ll call a press conference. Say it was rumors, exaggeration by the media. But only if you drop this nonsense about Sofía.”

I couldn’t ruin my mother’s life work. Or risk losing my children.

Not after dragging them out of the fire myself.

Hot tears stung my eyes. "Fine," I whispered.

"I would drop it."

Relief flickered in his expression. He reached for my hand, almost tender.

“I knew you’d understand,” he said softly. “When this blows over, we’ll celebrate. We’ll rebuild the nursery.

We’ll be a family again.”

Family.

The word was ashes in my mouth.

He smirked, kissed my temple as if I were a fragile child, and then strode out.

Only when the door shut behind him did I crumble. Silent. Empty.

Nurses passed by, whispering as if I couldn't hear. I didn't. Not really. My body was already somewhere else, moving like a ghost.

By the time I reached home, I was on autopilot. Step after step, hollow and numb, until I found myself in my bedroom.

My fingers dug past silk and lace until they struck wood. A hollow space. An envelope yellowed with time.

My mother’s last gift.

Inside lay the deed to a villa in Madrid, tied to an offshore account Javier knew nothing about. A lifeline I had never dared to touch—until now.

I clutched the deed so hard it almost tore. This was how I would break free. This was how I would take my children and run.

My hands shook as I pulled out my phone and dialed the only person I could trust— Claire, the attorney that had been by my mother’s side.

She answered on the second ring. "Isla?"

I swallowed hard. "I want to file for divorce.

Immediately. And I need help selling a property-quietly."

Silence. Then a sharp intake of breath. "If you're serious, you need to move fast. I’d be able to prepare the papers—three days, minimum. As for the villa, I have trusted contacts in Spain. I can liquidate it in the same time frame."

A bitter smile curved my lips.

Three days. By the end of it, I’ll show Javier and Sofia what fire feels like!

Isla's POV

The fluorescent lights of the hospital corridor buzzed faintly as I stepped back inside. All I wanted was to collapse beside my children’s beds and stay there until their eyes opened again.

But the moment I turned the corner, I froze.

She was waiting for me.

“You witch!” Javier’s mother spat the word like venom.

Before I could react, her palm cracked across my face. My head snapped sideways, heat blooming across my cheek.

“You tried to kill my grandchildren!” she shrieked, her voice echoing down the sterile hall. “You worthless orphan—how dare you pretend you could raise a Carlucci child?”

I heard the gasps. Nurses stopped what they were doing. Patients in wheelchairs turned their heads. The shame scalded hotter than the fire ever had.

Her nails dug into my arm as she yanked me forward. My blouse tore with a sharp rip, silk splitting at the shoulder. "You don't deserve them," she hissed. "Javier should have married a woman of class. Not some stray from the gutter."

Whispers hissed around me.

“Maybe she really was careless.”

“I heard she left candles burning.”

“She doesn’t even look like a mother.”

And then— Sofia.

She stood just behind Javier's mother, head bowed like a grieving angel. But her lips curved into the faintest smirk.

“Auntie, please,” she murmured,sweetly. “Don’t make a scene. Isla’s been through so much.”

“That’s enough.” Javier’s voice cut through the chaos as he strode toward us. For a second, I thought he might defend me. That he might finally put his mother and cousin in their place.

But he only put an arm around his mother’s shoulders and said, “It was an accident. Isla didn’t mean it. Let’s not let things escalate.”

An accident.

He knew the truth. He knew who the real culprit was.

And still he chose to let me burn.

This wasn't the first time Sofia had tried to hurt my children. Only the first time she'd almost succeeded.

When they finally left, I sank into the chair outside my children's ward, shaking. By dawn, my body ached and my eyes were raw. Sleep never came.

That morning, I forced myself to stand —only to see the door to the twins' room cracked open.

Inside, Sofia sat by my daughter’s bed. Her blood red nails glittered as she held a juice box to her lips.

"Go on, Amanda," she coaxed. "Just a sip. Auntie brought it special for you."

Amanda shook her head weakly. "Mommy says... no sugar."

Because of her diabetic condition, sugar wasn't just forbidden. It was deadly.

"Don't be silly," Sofia crooned, tilting it closer. "One sip won't hurt."

"Step away from her!" My voice ripped through the room as I charged inside.

She flinched, but her hand didn't move. I tore the box from her grip and flung it across the room in rage. Sticky liquid splattered across her silk dress, dripping down her perfect blonde hair.

"How dare you," I hissed. "You know Amanda can't have sugar. Were you trying to kill her?"

Amanda whimpered, clutching my hand.

The door banged open. Javier.

His eyes swept the scene. Sofia drenched, trembling with fake tears, me shaking with fury.

"She attacked me," Sofia gasped, voice breaking. "I was only trying to help... to make peace with the children... and she—she threw it at me—"

"You lying snake!" I snapped. "I caught you forcing her to drink sugar!"

"Isla." Javier's voice was hard. "Calm down. You're overreacting!"

Overreacting? My child's life had been in danger.

"Get her out, Javier," I said, my voice ice. "I don't want her near me. I don't want her near my children. Ever again."

His jaw flexed. After a long pause, he guided her away, her sobs echoing down the corridor.

I pressed Amanda to me, whispering into her hair. "I'll never let her hurt you again."

But later that night, when I stepped outside to breathe, I felt Sofia’s eyes on me.

Waiting in the shadow of the stairwell.

"You ruined everything," she seethed. The sweetness was gone, her face twisted with hate.

"Those brats stole what was mine. They should've never been born."

Before I could reply, she shoved me.

My shoulder slammed the railing, pain hitting my arm. I caught myself, but she shoved again.

Harder.

We both went tumbling.

Concrete blurred past. My body crashed against the steps, agony tearing through my side. Blood filled my mouth.

Sofia screamed louder than a banshee beside me, reaching for the rail.

Then—Javier. His voice. His arms.

But not around me. Around her.

He pulled Sofia up first, holding her trembling body against his chest as if she were the one who had

nearly died.

And me? I lay crumpled on the hard floor, gasping.

Our eyes met for one fleeting second. He looked at me. Then looked away.

The betrayal burned hotter than the pain.

Isla's POV

The ward was too quiet. Only the steady hum of the IV pump and the shallow ache in my ribs reminded me I was still alive.

I lay propped against the pillows, arm bound in plaster, side wrapped tight. Every breath stabbed sharp, but none as sharp as the memory of Javier pulling Sofia up from the stairwell... and leaving me there.

Hours later, he finally came. A tray of food in his hands, his expression dark.

"You should have been more careful," he said. "The doctors said you could've broken your neck too."

I almost laughed. The sound came out raw. “Careful? She attacked me. But it doesn’t matter since you chose her. Again.”

His jaw tightened, eyes cold. "I know you pushed her. Second time you tried to hurt her in the same fucking day. She has bruises. Do you realize how this looks? You've made yourself look really crazy."

Was my own injury a joke to him?

"Crazy?" I snapped, my voice cracking. "She set fire to our home. She tried to kill me tonight. And you're worried about appearances?"

He looked away, dismissing me with a flick of his hand. "Just stop."

Before I could scream at him, the door burst open.

Flashbulbs exploded, almost blinding me. Reporters poured in, shouting over one another.

"Mrs. Carlucci, is it true you attacked Sofia Carlucci twice today?"

"Is it true the fire started because of your negligence?"

"Your mother's foundation supports hundreds of children—do you still plan to run it after nearly killing your own?"

And then Sofia appeared. Dressed in white, a soft bandage wrapped around her ankle. She definitely tipped them off.

She looked like some tragic angel as she limped inside, hand pressed delicately to her chest.

"I didn't want this," she whispered, just loud enough for every microphone to catch. "But Isla's temper... it scares me. She pushed me down the stairs. I only pray she doesn't hurt herself—or the children."

Cameras clicked furiously.

I shot up despite the pain. "You are such a liar. Just wait till I get my hands on you!"

Javier gripped my good arm. "Calm the heck down. Don’t make things worse!" he growled under his breath.

Sofia gave a fragile smile, eyes wet. "Please, don't blame her. She's the twins' mother. I only want peace."

The reporters ate it up. By the time the nurses forced them out, my body was shaking so violently I thought my stitches would tear.

I wanted to scream. To claw her face apart until the mask ripped away. But all I could do was sit there, while the whole world believed her saint and me the monster.

Hours passed. The hospital dimmed for the night.

When the nurse came to wheel me for scans, I asked her to stop by the twins' ward. I needed to see them

—to remind myself what I was fighting for.

But halfway down the corridor, I froze.

A door almost closed. Soft light spilled out. And with it, Javier’s voice. Husky. Intimate.

"Don't," he murmured. "Someone might hear."

Sofia's laugh slid like poison through the gap. "Let them. You've hidden me long enough."

My pulse thundered.

I pushed the door open an inch, just enough to see.

Sofia sat perched on the edge of the bed. Her dress hiked above her thighs. Javier knelt before her,—his lips pressing softly against her bandaged ankle.

He kissed higher, his hands sliding to her waist.

My chest went cold. They weren't touching like cousins!

Her head tipped back in a sigh. "I'm tired of sneaking around, Javier. It’s been years. I want everyone to know you're mine."

"They will. But if the Carluccis find out you're adopted, you lose everything-your father's estates, the stocks, the name. Right now, they think you're blood. That's your protection. We can't risk it."

"I don't care about protection anymore," she whispered fiercely. "I care about us. And I want her

gone."

His tone sharpened. "She's already unstable to the public. If we push it a little further, the board will sign off. One signature, and she's in an asylum. No more threat."

She chuckled, her fingers curling into his hair. "Perfect. While she's locked away, I'll step in."

He kissed her lips tenderly and murmured, "Soon, amore. I'll marry you. Quietly. And you’d be the mother to my kids. Hell, we can even make our own baby finally."

The world tilted.

I clutched my phone with shaking hands. For a second, I almost dropped it. But instead, I lifted it.

Pressed record.

If they thought I was broken, they were about to learn just how dangerous I could be.