Isla's POV
I slammed my bedroom door so hard the walls shook.
My hands were trembling. No—my whole body was trembling. Rage and humiliation burned through me like acid, making it hard to breathe.
Gold-digger's daughter.
Those were the words Caspian Steele had used. Like I was trash. Like my mother was trash. Like we'd hunted down his father for money instead of—
I grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed into it.
This was supposed to be a fresh start. A chance to rebuild after Derek destroyed me. A safe place to land while I figured out my life.
Instead, I'd walked into a new nightmare.
I pulled out my phone with shaking fingers and called Sophia.
She answered on the first ring. "How's the fancy penthouse? Are you drinking champagne from a golden toilet yet?"
"I'm leaving." My voice cracked. "I can't stay here, Soph. I need to come back."
"Whoa, wait. What happened?"
I told her everything. About Caspian's cold eyes and cruel words. About how he'd looked at me like I was a disease. About feeling humiliated all over again, just like at the engagement party.
When I finished, Sophia was quiet for a long moment.
"That bastard," she finally said. "Who does he think he is?"
"A billionaire who owns half of Manhattan." I laughed bitterly. "He can think whatever he wants. I just want out."
"And go where, Isla? Back to my couch? Back to working three jobs and barely eating? Back to letting your father and Derek and Natasha win?"
The words hit hard because they were true.
"I can't stay here," I whispered. "Not with him looking at me like that every day. Not after—" My voice broke. "I can't take another person telling me I'm worthless."
"Listen to me." Sophia's voice turned fierce. "Caspian Steele doesn't know you. He doesn't know what you've survived or how strong you are. He's made assumptions based on nothing, which makes him an ignorant jerk. But you know what the best revenge is?"
"What?"
"Proving him wrong. Living in that penthouse with your head high. Succeeding despite what he thinks. Making him eat every cruel word."
I wanted to believe her. Wanted to feel strong and defiant.
But mostly I just felt tired and small.
"I don't know if I can do this again," I admitted.
"Yes, you can. Because you're Isla freaking Monroe, and you don't quit. You've never quit, not even when Derek humiliated you in front of everyone. Not even when your dad chose Natasha over you. You survived all of that, and you'll survive this too."
After we hung up, I sat on the edge of the huge bed and tried to breathe normally.
The room was beautiful. Bigger than Sophia's entire apartment. Big windows showing the Manhattan skyline, soft carpet, furniture that probably cost more than I'd made in the last year.
It should have felt like a dream.
Instead, it felt like a trap.
A knock on my door made me jump.
"Isla?" Mom's voice. "Sweetheart, can I come in?"
I quickly wiped my eyes. "It's your house."
The door opened, and Mom slipped inside, still in her wedding dress. She looked so happy, so radiant, that fresh guilt twisted in my stomach.
"What's wrong?" she asked immediately. "You left the reception early, and you look upset."
"I'm fine."
"Don't lie to me." She sat beside me on the bed, taking my hand. "I saw Caspian talking to you. What did he say?"
Everything. He said everything designed to make me feel small and worthless and unwanted.
But I couldn't tell Mom that. Not on her wedding day. Not when she was finally happy after years of misery with Dad.
"Nothing important," I said. "Just... introducing himself."
Mom's eyes narrowed. "Isla."
"Really, Mom. I'm just tired. It's been a long day." I forced a smile. "You should go. Richard's probably waiting for you."
"Richard can wait." She squeezed my hand. "I know this is strange. Moving into a new home, gaining a stepbrother, everything changing so fast. But I promise it'll get easier. Caspian seems cold, but Richard says he's actually very kind underneath. He just doesn't show it well."
I seriously doubted that.
"And this is just temporary," Mom continued. "Just until you save enough to get your own place. A few months at most. You can handle anything for a few months, right?"
A few months living under the same roof as a man who hated me.
A few months of avoiding those cold gray eyes and cruel words.
A few months of feeling like an intruder in someone else's home.
"Right," I agreed weakly.
Mom hugged me tight. "I love you, sweetheart. And I'm so proud of you. After everything you've been through, you're still standing. You're so much stronger than you know."
After she left, I unpacked my two suitcases. All my worldly possessions fit into two drawers and half a closet. Everything else—my books, my art supplies, my memories—I'd sold or given away when Dad kicked me out.
I was starting over with nothing.
Again.
I stayed in my room for hours, until the penthouse went quiet and I was sure everyone was asleep.
My stomach growled. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, too nervous about the wedding to manage more than coffee.
The kitchen had to be downstairs. Surely I could sneak down, grab something quick, and get back to my room without seeing anyone.
I crept through the dark hallway in pajama shorts and an old t-shirt, following the faint glow of lights.
The kitchen was massive. All marble and stainless steel, bigger than most people's entire homes. I found the refrigerator and pulled it open, relieved to see it fully stocked.
I grabbed bread, cheese, and some fruit, then turned to find a plate—
And nearly screamed.
Caspian stood in the doorway.
He wore dark pants and nothing else. No shirt. Just bare skin and muscles and—
Stop looking.
"What are you doing?" he demanded.
"Getting food." I lifted my chin, refusing to be intimidated. "Is that against the rules too?"
"It's two in the morning."
"I'm aware. I can tell time."
His jaw clenched. Even in the dim light, I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands fisted at his sides.
We stared at each other across the kitchen, and the air felt thick, heavy with something I didn't understand.
"You should be in bed," he finally said.
"So should you. Yet here we are."
"This is my house."
"Actually, it's your father's house. Which makes it my mother's house too. Which means I have just as much right to be here as you do."
The words came out braver than I felt. Inside, my heart was racing, and not entirely from anger.
Because even though I hated Caspian Steele, even though his words had cut me deep, standing this close to him made my skin feel too tight. Made my breath catch. Made me notice things I shouldn't notice—like the way his muscles moved when he crossed his arms, or how his hair was messy like he'd been running his hands through it.
He was beautiful, and I hated him for it.
"Make your food and go," he said coldly. "And in the future, use the kitchen during normal hours."
"Or what? You'll kick me out? Sorry, but you don't have that power. Your father invited me to live here."
Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. He moved closer, and I forced myself to stand my ground even though every instinct screamed at me to back up.
He stopped inches away. Close enough that I could smell his cologne. Close enough to see the storm in his gray eyes.
"You think you're so clever," he said quietly. "Coming here, playing the victim, making my father feel sorry for you. But I see through it. I know exactly what you're doing."
"Really? What am I doing, Caspian? Please, enlighten me."
"You're using your mother's marriage to restart your pathetic social life. You think living here will erase what happened with your fiancé. Will make people forget you couldn't even keep your own man."
The words hit like physical blows. I felt my face go hot, then cold.
"Get. Out. Of. My. Way." Each word came out sharp as glass.
"Or what?"
I shoved him. Actually put my hands on his bare chest and pushed.
He didn't budge. Didn't move an inch.
But his skin was warm under my palms, and the moment I touched him, electricity shot through me. Wrong, unwanted, terrifying electricity that made me jerk my hands back like I'd been burned.
Caspian's eyes widened slightly. He'd felt it too.
For one heartbeat, we just stared at each other, both breathing hard, the air between us crackling with something dangerous.
Then he stepped back abruptly. "Stay away from me, Isla. I mean it."
He turned and left, and I stood alone in the kitchen, shaking.
Not from fear.
From something much worse.
I didn't sleep that night.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every word. Every look. Every second of standing too close to him in that kitchen.
Caspian Steele hated me. Had made that perfectly clear.
So why did his words hurt more than Derek's betrayal? Why did his opinion matter when it shouldn't?
And why—God help me, why —had touching him felt like grabbing a live wire?
I needed to avoid him. Completely. No more late-night kitchen visits. No more conversations. I'd stay in my wing of the penthouse, and he'd stay in his, and we'd pretend the other didn't exist.
It was the only way to survive this.
Just as I was finally drifting off to sleep, my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.
I almost ignored it. But something made me check.
The message made my blood run cold:
*Saw the wedding photos. Living with Caspian Steele now? Interesting. Very interesting. Let's talk soon, Isla. We have unfinished business. —Derek
My ex-fiancé. The man who'd destroyed me. He was texting me at 3 AM like he had any right.
I blocked the number immediately, but my hands were shaking again.
Because Derek finding me meant Natasha knew where I was. Which meant my father knew. Which meant everyone from my old life—the life that had torn me apart—knew exac
tly where to find me.
I wasn't safe here. Not from Caspian's cruelty, and not from the people who'd already destroyed me once.
I was trapped in a beautiful cage with enemies on all sides.
And I had no idea how to escape.