Isla's POV
The door handle turns, and I leap backward, grabbing the desk lamp as a weapon.
The door swings open.
"Whoa! Isla, it's me!" Marcus raises his hands, eyes wide. "I knocked but you didn't answer. I got worried."
I drop the lamp, my heart still racing. "You scared me half to death!"
"I'm sorry." He steps inside, locking the door behind him. "But we have a problem. Hotel security just reported a man asking about your room number twenty minutes ago. They turned him away, but—"
"I got a text." I show him my phone with shaking hands. "Someone wants to meet me. Someone who claims they know what happened six years ago."
Marcus reads the message, his jaw tightening. "This is a trap."
"Or it's someone who can finally prove I was set up." I grab my coat. "I have to go."
"Absolutely not." Marcus blocks my path. "Isla, someone tried to kidnap Ethan tonight. You're not meeting strange people in parking garages at midnight."
"They have evidence! A photo of Vivienne—"
"Which could be faked." His voice is firm but gentle. "Let me go instead. Or better yet, let's call the police."
"No!" The word bursts out too loud. I lower my voice. "No police. Not yet. Not until I know what this person wants."
Marcus studies my face, and I can see him calculating. He's smart—one of the smartest men I know. It's why I agreed to marry him. Well, that and the fact that he never asks about the things I'm not ready to share.
But right now, I need him to understand.
"Marcus, six years ago, Dominic Ashford called me a liar and had me thrown out of his office like garbage. My own father believed I was trying to trap a billionaire and disowned me. I ran away with nothing—no money, no family, no proof that I was telling the truth." My voice cracks. "If this person has evidence that I didn't make it all up, I need to see it. I need to know I wasn't crazy."
His expression softens. "You were never crazy, Isla. I believe you. I've always believed you."
"I know. But I need to believe me." I squeeze his hand. "Please. Let me do this."
He's quiet for a long moment, then sighs. "I'm coming with you. Non-negotiable."
I want to argue, but the relief is too strong. "Thank you."
But as we head for the door, my mind drags me backward—to another time I walked through doors hoping for help and found only cruelty instead.
Six years ago—Two months after the hotel...
I stared at the pregnancy test in my trembling hands. Two pink lines. Positive.
I was pregnant.
"No, no, no..." I whispered to the empty bathroom. This couldn't be happening. I was twenty-two, barely making enough money at my father's company to pay rent. I wasn't ready to be a mother.
But ready or not, there was a baby growing inside me. A baby created that horrible, confusing night with Dominic Ashford.
For three days, I agonized over what to do. Part of me wanted to disappear, have the baby quietly, never tell anyone. But that felt wrong. The baby deserved a father. And Dominic deserved to know he was going to be a dad, even if that night was a mistake.
So I made a plan. I would go to his office, tell him about the pregnancy, and hope he was kinder in the daylight than he'd been that morning in the hotel.
Ashford Global headquarters was a tower of steel and glass that made me feel tiny. Important-looking people rushed past wearing expensive suits. I wore my best work dress, but next to them, I looked like a child playing dress-up.
The elevator ride to the executive floor felt like going to my own execution.
"Can I help you?" The secretary at the front desk looked me up and down like I was something dirty.
"I need to see Mr. Ashford. It's... it's personal."
"Mr. Ashford doesn't take personal visits. If you'd like to schedule an appointment—"
"Please." I hated how desperate I sounded. "Just tell him Isla Chen is here. He'll remember me."
She picked up the phone with obvious reluctance, spoke quietly, then hung up. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ashford is in an important meeting and cannot be disturbed."
Panic clawed at my throat. I'd worked up all my courage to come here. If I left now, I might never find the strength again.
"I'll wait." I sat down in one of the leather chairs.
"That could be hours—"
"I'll wait."
She looked annoyed but turned back to her computer. I sat there for ninety minutes, my stomach churning with nerves and morning sickness. Finally, the large office doors opened.
Dominic walked out, surrounded by men in suits. They were talking about acquisitions, market shares, hostile takeovers. And then I heard it—"Chen Industries should be ours within the month."
My father's company. Dominic was planning to take over my father's company.
He saw me then. His steps faltered, and something cold flashed across his face. "What are you doing here?"
The men around him stopped, curious.
I stood on shaking legs. "I need to talk to you. It's important."
"I'm busy." His voice could freeze fire.
"Please, Mr. Ashford. It's about—" I glanced at all the watching faces. "It's personal."
He studied me for a long, terrible moment. Then he jerked his head toward his office. "Five minutes."
We stepped inside his massive office, and he closed the door. The moment we were alone, his expression turned to ice.
"You have five minutes to explain why you're here before I call security."
His cruelty stole my breath, but I forced the words out. "I'm pregnant."
Silence. Heavy and suffocating.
"The baby is yours. From that night at the hotel—"
"Stop." He held up one hand, and a cruel smile twisted his mouth. "You actually think I'm stupid enough to fall for this?"
"I'm not lying! I took three tests. I'm eight weeks pregnant, and you're the only person I've been with—"
"This is about the acquisition, isn't it?" He moved closer, and I backed away. "Did Chen Industries send you? Did your father put you up to this?"
"What? No! My father doesn't even know I'm here!"
"You expect me to believe that the daughter of the company I'm acquiring just happens to show up pregnant, claiming the baby is mine?" His laugh was cruel. "You're not even good at this con."
Tears burned my eyes. "I'm telling the truth! That night, something was wrong with my drink. I think someone drugged me—"
"Oh, how convenient. You were drugged. You're a victim." He pulled out his phone. "You know what I think? I think you're a gold-digger who saw an opportunity and took it. Well, it won't work."
"Please, just listen—"
"I'm done listening." He pressed a button on his desk. "Security to my office. Now."
"No, wait—" Panic exploded in my chest. "I have proof! I can show you hospital records, I can take a paternity test—"
"You're nothing but a liar using an innocent child—if there even IS a child—to blackmail me." His eyes were like frozen silver. "Get out of my sight."
Two security guards burst through the door.
"Remove her from the building," Dominic ordered, his voice flat. "If she comes back, call the police."
"No, please!" I tried to pull away as the guards grabbed my arms. "I'm telling the truth! The baby is yours! You have to believe me!"
But Dominic had already turned his back, dismissing me like I was nothing. Like we were nothing.
They dragged me through the office, past all those staring faces. Past the secretary who looked satisfied. Into the elevator, through the lobby, out onto the street.
They released me on the sidewalk, and I fell to my knees, sobbing so hard I thought I might break.
"Isla?" Marcus's voice pulls me back to the present. We're in the elevator heading to the parking garage. "You okay? You looked far away."
"Just remembering." I wipe my eyes quickly. "Remembering why I hate him so much."
The elevator dings, and the doors open to the cold, dark parking garage. Our footsteps echo off concrete as we walk toward the designated meeting spot—Section C, near the maintenance exit.
"I don't like this," Marcus mutters, his hand on my back protectively.
Neither do I. But I keep walking.
We reach Section C. Empty cars sit in neat rows, their windows dark and lifeless. The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting strange shadows.
"Hello?" I call out. My voice echoes back at me.
Nothing.
"They're not here," Marcus says. "Let's go."
But then a phone on the ground lights up—a burner phone, placed deliberately on the concrete. A message flashes across the screen:
"Look in the car behind you. Evidence is in the trunk. Keys under the mat. Trust NO ONE at the summit. They're all involved. Even Marcus."
I spin around to look at Marcus, and his face has gone completely white.
"Isla, I can explain—"
Behind him, a figure steps out from between the cars. Someone wearing all black, their face hidden by shadows.
And they're holding a gun pointed straight at Marcus's head.