Isla's POV
I'm twelve years old again.
Rain hammers the windshield. Mom's singing along to the radio. Dad's hand rests on her knee, and they're smiling at each other like they're the only two people in the world.
Isla, honey, what do you want for your birthday? Mom turns in her seat, her face bright with love.
I don't know. Maybe—
The car swerves violently.
Dad grabs the wheel, his knuckles white. The brakes aren't working!
What? Mom's voice rises in panic.
I can't stop! I can't—
We're spinning, spinning, spinning. Mom screams. Dad shouts my name. Metal crunches. Glass shatters.
The car flips.
And then I'm outside, watching it happen. Watching the vehicle tumble down the embankment toward the river. Watching it sink.
I try to scream, but no sound comes out. Try to run, but my legs won't move.
Someone's standing beside me. A man in a dark suit.
Damien.
You did this, I whisper. You killed them.
He doesn't deny it. Just watches the car disappear beneath the black water.
I'm sorry, he says quietly. But I couldn't let you go.
I wake up screaming.
My throat is raw, my face wet with tears. The nightmare clings to me like oil, suffocating and dark.
Isla! Harper bursts into the guest room, eyes wide. What happened?
Just a dream. My voice shakes. Just a nightmare about—about the accident.
Harper sits on the bed, pulling me into a hug. It's okay. You're safe. You're at my house, remember? Away from him.
But I don't feel safe. I feel shattered.
Do you want me to stay? Harper asks.
No. I'm fine. Go back to sleep.
After she leaves, I lie in the dark, staring at the ceiling. It's three in the morning. The house is silent except for the ticking of a clock somewhere down the hall.
I reach for my phone, my fingers finding the note from Damien's bracelet.
You were my salvation, even if I was your ruin.
I should hate him. Should be relieved he's in jail where he can't manipulate me anymore.
So why does my chest ache like something vital has been torn out?
Sleep doesn't come again. At six, I give up and go downstairs. Harper's parents are already up, talking in low voices in the kitchen.
They stop when they see me.
Isla, sweetheart. Mrs. Chen—no relation to our housekeeper—gives me a sympathetic smile. How are you holding up?
I'm okay.
The news is... everywhere. Mr. Chen looks uncomfortable. About Damien. About your parents. I'm so sorry you're going through this.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
We want you to know you can stay as long as you need, Mrs. Chen says. This is your home now.
But it doesn't feel like home. Nothing feels like home except—
No. I can't think that way.
Harper comes down an hour later, already dressed. I'm going to class. Will you be okay here?
Yeah. I think I'll just... sleep. Or try to.
After everyone leaves, the house is too quiet. Too empty.
I find myself reaching for my phone, scrolling through news articles about Damien's arrest.
Billionaire Guardian Arrested in Cold Case Murder
Damien Blackwood Faces Life in Prison for Partner's Death
Orphaned Heiress Speaks Out: 'I Trusted Him'
Wait. That last one—I never spoke to any reporters.
I click the article and my stomach drops.
There's a quote attributed to me: Damien Blackwood controlled every aspect of my life. I see now that he was grooming me from the start. I'm grateful the truth finally came out.
I never said that. Never talked to anyone.
Someone's putting words in my mouth.
My phone rings. Unknown number. I almost don't answer, but something makes me pick up.
Hello?
Isla Hartley? A smooth male voice. My name is Detective Morrison. I'm investigating the Hartley accident case. I was hoping you could come to the station to give a statement.
I'm eighteen. Don't I need a lawyer?
You're not under investigation. We just need your perspective on Mr. Blackwood's behavior over the past six years. Anything that might help us understand his state of mind.
Something feels off. Can I call you back?
Of course. My number is—
I hang up and immediately call Elias.
He answers on the first ring. Miss Isla. Are you all right?
Someone just called claiming to be a detective. Wanted me to come give a statement.
Don't. His voice is sharp. Don't talk to anyone without a lawyer present. Mr. Blackwood's legal team is handling everything.
Elias, what's happening? The news is saying things I never said.
Someone's controlling the narrative. Probably whoever leaked the original story. He pauses. Miss Isla, there's something you should know. Mr. Blackwood's bail hearing is this afternoon. The prosecution is arguing he's a flight risk.
Is he?
No. He's cooperating fully. But the judge might deny bail anyway because of the severity of the charges.
My chest tightens. Can I see him?
He specifically asked that you don't. He doesn't want you involved in this mess more than necessary.
That's not his choice to make!
Actually, it is. He's listed you as off-limits for all visitors, media, and legal proceedings. He's trying to protect you.
By pushing me away?
By giving you a chance at a normal life. Elias's voice softens. He loves you enough to let you go, Miss Isla. Maybe that's the most honest thing he's ever done.
After we hang up, I sit in Harper's guest room, feeling lost.
The doorbell rings.
I ignore it, but it rings again. And again.
Finally, I go downstairs and peer through the peephole.
A woman stands on the porch—elegant, beautiful, around forty. She's holding a manila envelope.
Victoria Ashford.
Against my better judgment, I open the door. What do you want?
To talk. That's all. Her smile is cold. May I come in?
No.
Suit yourself. But you should see what's in this envelope before you make any decisions about Damien Blackwood's future.
She holds it out. I don't take it.
I know you think you love him, Victoria says. I thought I loved him too, once. Before I realized what he really is.
You don't know anything about us.
Don't I? I know he spent six years isolating you. Controlling you. Making you dependent on him for everything. Her eyes narrow. Did he ever tell you about the other girl?
My blood runs cold. What other girl?
Before you. Before he became your guardian. Victoria's smile sharpens. Her name was Emily. She was nineteen, an intern at his company. Beautiful, naive, completely infatuated with him.
I don't want to hear this.
She disappeared three years into their relationship. The official story is she moved to Europe. But I know the truth—Damien made her disappear because she started asking too many questions about his business practices.
You're lying.
Am I? Victoria opens the envelope and pulls out photos. This is Emily Morrison. Notice anything familiar?
The girl in the photo has dark hair, doe eyes, a delicate face.
She looks like me.
He has a type, Victoria says softly. Young, vulnerable, easy to control. You're not special, Isla. You're just the latest version of his obsession.
My hands shake as I take the photos. Where is she now?
I don't know. Nobody does. She vanished six months before your parents died. Victoria leans closer. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? What Damien's capable of when someone becomes inconvenient?
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes.
A text from an unknown number: Don't believe her. Emily Morrison is alive and well in London. Victoria is lying to turn you against Damien. Meet me at the old Hartley Tech building, fifth floor, noon today. I have proof of everything. –A Friend
I look up at Victoria. Who's sending me these messages?
What messages?
Someone's been texting me. Giving me information, telling me where to look for evidence.
Victoria's expression shifts—surprise, then calculation. What kind of information?
About Damien. About my parents. About— I stop. Why am I telling her this?
Isla, someone is playing you. Victoria's voice turns urgent. These messages, the leaked story, the fake quotes—it's all connected. Someone wants you to destroy Damien, but it's not about justice. It's about something else.
What?
Your inheritance. If Damien goes to prison and you're declared incompetent or unstable, your uncle Julian becomes your legal guardian. And he gets control of Hartley Tech.
The pieces click into place.
Julian's behind this?
Maybe. Or maybe it's someone else entirely. Victoria hands me the envelope. Read these files. Make up your own mind. But Isla? Trust no one. Not me, not Julian, not even the man you think you love.
She walks away, leaving me standing in the doorway with an envelope full of secrets.
I go back inside and open it with shaking hands.
Inside are documents, photos, financial records. Everything Victoria claimed, and more.
But there's also something else. A USB drive with a note attached:
Security footage from the night of the accident. Damien didn't kill your parents. But he knows who did. And he's been protecting them for six years.
I stare at the drive, my heart pounding.
Who is Damien protecting?
And why would he go to prison for someone else's crime?