ISLA'S POV
I woke up at 5 AM with my mind already made.
I was going to that café. Meeting that stranger. Breaking every rule.
The penthouse was silent. Damien's bedroom door was closed—he was either sleeping or already gone to early meetings.
I had seven hours until noon.
Seven hours to plan my escape.
Mrs. Lin arrived at eight, cheerful as always. Good morning, Miss Chen! Breakfast is ready.
I forced down toast and coffee while she chatted about the weather, the news, anything normal.
Normal. I barely remembered what that felt like.
Will you need help preparing for anything today? Mrs. Lin asked.
No. I'm just staying in. Reading. Resting.
She smiled, buying the lie. Mr. Cross left early for meetings. He said he won't be back until six.
Perfect.
At eleven-thirty, I put on simple jeans and a sweater—my own clothes I'd smuggled in despite Damien's orders. If I wore his expensive designer outfits, I'd stand out.
The penthouse had cameras everywhere. I'd spent two weeks studying them, finding their blind spots.
The emergency stairwell had a camera, but it pointed at the door, not the corner beside it. If I moved fast enough, I could slip past.
My heart pounded as I opened my bedroom door.
Mrs. Lin was in the kitchen, humming while she cleaned.
I moved silently toward the emergency exit, pressing against the wall, staying in the camera's blind spot.
The door handle was cold under my fingers.
This was it. The moment I became a rule-breaker. A rebel.
Or just a girl desperate for answers about her dead mother.
I slipped through the door and ran down fifteen flights of stairs, my legs burning, my lungs screaming.
The lobby had security, but they knew me as Mr. Cross's companion. They'd seen me come and go with him.
I walked out like I belonged there, like I had permission.
No one stopped me.
Outside, the city air tasted like freedom.
I caught a bus toward the address—Golden Phoenix Café in a neighborhood I didn't know.
The café was small, tucked between a laundromat and a bookstore. Old-fashioned. Quiet.
I walked in at exactly noon.
A woman sat alone in the corner booth. Older, maybe fifty. Sharp eyes. Business suit.
She looked up as I entered, her expression unreadable.
Isla Laurent? she asked quietly.
My blood turned cold hearing that name spoken aloud. How do you know
Sit down. We don't have much time.
I slid into the booth across from her, my hands shaking.
Who are you? I demanded.
Someone who worked for your mother. Elena Laurent. The woman pulled out a folder. My name is Grace Chen. I was her personal assistant for ten years before she died.
Chen. My father's last name. Are you related to
Your father and I are cousins. Distant. He asked me to watch over you. Keep you safe. Grace's eyes were sad. I failed. I lost track of you after James took you into hiding. It took me years to find you again.
My head was spinning. Why now? Why reach out now?
Because you're in danger. Victor Laurent is asking questions about you. After seeing you at the gala, he's suspicious. Grace leaned closer. He knows Elena had a daughter. He's spent sixteen years making sure that daughter stayed dead or hidden. If he confirms you're alive—
He'll kill me like he killed my mother.
Yes. Grace pushed the folder toward me. This contains everything I managed to save before Victor destroyed the evidence. Financial records. Witness statements. Proof that he tampered with Elena's car.
My hands trembled opening the folder.
Inside were documents, photos, testimony from a mechanic who'd been paid to cut the brake lines.
Proof. Real proof of murder.
Why didn't you go to the police? I asked.
I tried. Victor paid them off. Threatened witnesses. Made evidence disappear. Grace's voice was bitter. He owns half this city. No one touches him.
Then what am I supposed to do with this?
Wait. Build power. Get leverage. Grace's eyes hardened. And whatever you do, don't let Victor know who you are. He's already suspicious. One wrong move and
The café door chimed.
A man in a suit entered. Not ordering coffee. Not sitting down.
Just watching us.
Grace's face went pale. We need to leave. Now. Different exits.
What
That's one of Victor's men. He followed you. Grace stood quickly. Go out the back. Run. Don't go home. Find somewhere safe
I can't just run
Isla, GO!
I grabbed the folder and ran toward the back exit, my heart pounding.
Behind me, I heard Grace's voice: She's no one. Just a girl asking for directions
I burst out the back door into an alley.
And ran straight into a wall.
No. Not a wall.
A chest. A man's chest.
Strong hands grabbed my shoulders, steadying me.
I looked up into furious dark eyes.
Damien Cross.
Going somewhere? His voice was ice and fury wrapped in silk.
My blood froze. How did you
Did you really think I wouldn't have you followed? His grip tightened. The moment you left the building, I knew. I've been watching you this entire time.
Tears burned my eyes. Not from fear. From frustration.
You followed me? You spied on me?
You broke the rules! His voice rose, actual emotion cracking through his cold mask. Rule number four. No contact with your previous life. No leaving without permission.
I had to
I don't care what you had to do! He pulled me closer, his face inches from mine. You belong to me. That means when I say stay, you STAY.
I'm not a dog!
No. You're someone who signed a contract promising obedience. And you just violated it. His eyes dropped to the folder clutched in my hands. What is that?
I tried to hide it behind my back. Nothing
He grabbed it from me easily, too strong to resist.
Give it back! I lunged for it, but he held it out of reach.
His eyes scanned the contents. Financial documents. Photos. Elena Laurent's name everywhere.
What is this? he demanded. Who is Elena Laurent?
No one—
Stop lying to me! He grabbed my wrist, his control finally snapping. I've been watching you for weeks. Watching you lie. Watching you hide. You're terrified of Victor Laurent. You have documents about some woman who died sixteen years ago. And you just risked everything to meet some stranger in a café.
He pulled me even closer, his breath hot against my face.
So I'm going to ask you one more time, Isla. And if you lie, our contract is void. Your father goes to county care tonight. His eyes bored into mine. Who. Are. You?
The alley seemed to shrink around us.
This was it. The moment of truth.
I could lie. Keep hiding. Protect my secrets.
Or I could trust the devil who owned me.
My real name, I whispered, is Isla Laurent. Elena Laurent was my mother. Victor Laurent murdered her. And the debt that destroyed my father? Victor created it to eliminate threats to his empire.
Damien's expression didn't change. But his grip loosened slightly.
You're Victor Laurent's niece, he said slowly. The missing heiress everyone thinks is dead.
Yes.
And you've been living with me—attending events on my arm—while plotting revenge against the man who killed your mother.
I wasn't plotting. I was surviving. The revenge... I met his eyes. The revenge is new. But yes. I want him destroyed.
Silence stretched between us.
Then Damien did something I never expected.
He smiled.
Not his cold, cruel smile. A real smile. Dangerous and sharp and full of dark promise.
Well, Isla Laurent, he said, his voice dropping to something almost gentle. It seems we have more in common than I thought.
What do you mean?
He released my wrist and stepped back, his expression shifting to something calculating.
Victor Laurent killed my parents twelve years ago. Destroyed my family's company. Left me and my sister orphaned and bankrupt. His dark eyes gleamed with cold fury. I've spent the last decade building an empire for one purpose: revenge.
The world tilted.
You hate him too, I breathed.
I don't just hate him. I've dedicated my life to destroying him. Damien studied me with new interest. Which means you and I, Isla Laurent, have the same enemy.
Are you saying
I'm saying the contract just changed. He pulled out his phone. You're not just my companion anymore. You're my partner in the most important business deal of my life.
What deal?
His smile turned predatory.
The complete and total destruction of Victor Laurent. Together.
My heart pounded. Why would you trust me? I just lied to you for weeks
Because enemies of my enemies are useful. He gestured to his car waiting at the alley entrance. Get in. We have a lot to discuss.
And my punishment? For breaking the rules?
Damien's expression turned cold again. Oh, you'll still be punished. But first, we plan a war.
I followed him to the car, my mind reeling.
Everything had just changed.
The man who owned me was now my ally.
The revenge I'd dreamed of might actually be possible.
But as I slid into the car beside Damien Cross, one question burned in my mind:
Could I trust the devil to help me destroy another devil?
Or would they both just drag me to hell?