Chapter 1
Divorce Aldenville, Willowbrook Manor. Isabella Hawthorne lounged on the plush Grand Sofa in the expansive hall, her bare leg crossed over the other, savoring some imported cherries that glistened like little jewels in the light. She relished the sweet tang, letting it linger on her tongue as she flipped through her phone, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing just beyond her front door. Suddenly, her phone buzzed, breaking her reverie. “Boss, you’re not pregnant. When the bump shows, everyone will know it's a fake!” Nope, she wasn’t pregnant. But that didn’t stop her from concocting a wild tale about being with Edward Blackwood after a chaotic night out where she had tried to play the hero for him. The plan was simple: save the charming man and snag a hefty payday doing it. Yet, instead of cash, she ended up in his bed—no money, just a whirlwind of regret. And when her controlling husband, William Hawthorne, had pushed her into a marriage with an older man for business reasons, she had spun an elaborate web, claiming she was expecting Edward's child to deter any thoughts William had about her worth. Honestly, she thought it would scare them away. But the very next day, Richard Blackwood, Edward's father, knocked on her door with a proposal, a hand-me-down she never agreed to inherit. 'What a mess this has become,' she thought, resigned as she stared at a message on her phone. “Better hurry and divorce him. You might get half the assets…” Isabella caught the unmistakable sound of an engine cutting off outside. Panic prickled her skin, and she quickly swiped her phone screen off. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the housekeeper casting her a strange look as the front door swung open. In walked Edward Blackwood, tall and striking, with sharp features and an intensity that could cut glass. His deep-set, piercing eyes bore into her with a mix of curiosity and annoyance. He had a slight swagger about him—definitely a mix of rugged confidence and cool detachment. Isabella's heart raced, and her earlier calmness was replaced with a whirlwind of emotions. She put on a vulnerable face, hoping to win him back. “Edward, darling,” she breathed, stepping forward with what she thought was charm. But he merely frowned, that sharp gaze freezing her in her tracks. As she lunged towards him, hoping to bridge the gap, he deftly sidestepped her, leaving her stumbling forward, nearly falling. She caught herself just in time, a pang of realization hitting her. She needed to play her cards right. If she really was pregnant, there was no way he would treat her coldly. “Edward?” She looked up, seeing him standing before her, arms crossed and an icy glare directed her way as he tossed a document at her feet. “What’s this?” she feigned innocence, widening her eyes like a doe caught in the headlights. His jaw tightened, veins in his forehead becoming prominent as he clearly fought back the urge to explode. “Open it and see for yourself.” Curiosity piqued, she tentatively flipped open the folder. Staring back at her was a report with the undeniable truth: barren. No baby. It was all starting to make sense. “Did you set me up?” He advanced towards her, his voice low and dangerous. “Isabella, who do you think you are?” “Someone who believed you might care!” she protested, her voice rising. “You think I wanted to play this game?” “Sure sounds like it. ‘Oh, Edward, I’m pregnant!’ Did you practice that line in the mirror?” As tears rushed to her eyes, she poured on the theatrics, her voice cracking. “But you know how much I love you! I’ve loved you for ten years…” He scoffed, his gaze narrowing at her. “Ten years ago, you were still a kid.” It was true; she was barely eighteen, and he was closing in on thirty. “Do you have a single truthful word left in that mouth of yours?” Edward shot back, obvious disgust bleeding through his perfectly composed facade. “Please, I was just so confused… I don’t know what I was thinking…” “Here's the divorce agreement. Sign it.” He signaled to his assistant standing a few steps behind, who promptly delivered the document, sharp corners crisp and eye-catching. She glanced down at the terms. A part of her was ready to flip the table. Five million? For all this melodrama, that was all she was worth? She couldn’t help but bark, “Seriously? After all this, five million is what you think I deserve?” Edward crossed his arms, his expression unmoved. “Take it or leave it.” She fumed, plotting her next move as she scanned the documents—her mind racing faster than her heart ever could.
Chapter 2
**Chapter: The Divorce Dilemma** Isabella Hawthorne was in full meltdown mode. There she was, practically throwing herself off the coffee table, crying and wailing, "Edward, please don't divorce me! I truly love you!" With a dramatic flair only she could muster, she tied one end of the rope to the chandelier, her teary eyes challenging him. “If you go through with this, I swear I’ll hang myself!” Edward Blackwood simply crossed his arms and leaned back, an unimpressed smirk playing on his lips as he arched an eyebrow. He looked at her like she was a dog barking at the moon. "Go ahead, Isabella. I’m just waiting for the show." The grip on the rope faltered—this bastard really knew how to push her buttons. But there was Edward, that same eyebrow still raised, as if to say, "What’s taking you so long?" Isabella cast a lingering gaze his way, her tone softening. “But how could I? You’re my world!” Meanwhile, her inner monologue was rolling its eyes. "What a joke." “Trust me, sign the papers, or I’ll lawyer up, and you won’t see a dime,” he warned, impatience dripping from every syllable. Isabella’s eyes flickered with a sly glimmer. “Oh really? We’re married, right? So by law, I should get half of everything, including your precious Silverstone Holdings, which has skyrocketed into the billions. I think it's fair to say I deserve something….” Finally, the mask slipped. A harsh, twisted smile crept onto Edward's face, his eyes darkening. “You truly are deluded, aren’t you?” "Isabella, don’t blame me for the warning. The Hawthorne family has kicked you to the curb. Without this money, you can kiss your university days goodbye." “All I’m worth is five million?” she shot back, fists clenched in disbelief. From his vantage point, Edward looked down at her with barely concealed disdain. “If it weren’t for my grandfather, you wouldn’t see a cent from me.” During their marriage, Isabella had often accompanied Edward to visit his grandfather, charming Richard Blackwood to bits. If she didn’t serve some purpose, he would’ve thrown her out of the Blackwood estate long ago. A woman designed to fit his needs didn’t deserve to bear his child. “Miss Hawthorne, five million should keep you comfortable,” his assistant chimed in, trying to be the voice of reason. “You’d better sign before Mr. Blackwood changes his mind.” “No way! I’m not signing anything!” Isabella pouted, plopping down onto the sofa, her cheeks puffed up like a petulant child. "Fine, we’ll just call your family then. I’ll have them come get you," Edward's face turned cold, the threat lingering in the air. It was just a divorce. He didn't want to waste any more time over this mess. “Wait, wait! I’ll sign! Just give me a second to breathe,” Isabella huffed, reluctantly raising her hands in surrender. Cheapskate, paying such a low divorce settlement. She thought about those sugar daddies who dished out splendid amounts. Five million—was that all she was worth? Sure, it could buy her a few years of fun, but still… “Can you make it just a bit more? A little something on top…” she twiddled her fingers like a child begging for candy, her expression a mix of hope and desperation. “Thomas, change that to a million…” As soon as Edward tried to cut her payout, tears brimmed in Isabella's eyes. “No, I take that back! I’ll sign! Just give me the papers!” This man, always trying to screw her over! The depths of capitalism, she thought bitterly. With a resigned sigh, she scribbled her name, all while feigning a broken-hearted expression. Inside, though, she was bubbling with excitement. Freedom at last—hello, singledom! “Hey, wait—” Edward’s gaze snapped back to her, and Isabella feigned innocence, batting her lashes. “Are you regretting our divorce? We could always remarry…” Her eyes sparkled like starlight, innocent and teasing. Edward was left speechless, his jaw hanging open.
Chapter 3
“Let’s keep this between us for now, alright?” Edward Blackwood's voice was icy, his eyes cold as he commanded, “Don’t breathe a word of the divorce to Grandpa.” Isabella Hawthorne couldn’t suppress a smirk. With a playful flick of her wrist, she extended a delicate hand. “You mean a little ‘hush money’ wouldn’t go amiss?” Edward’s brow twitched with barely contained irritation. “You really think you can just throw cash around like that?” She could feel the air crackle between them, the tension taut like a wire about to snap. Sensing she was pushing her luck, Isabella sighed theatrically, casting herself as the magnanimous martyr. “Fine, let’s call it compensation. After all, I’m the one who betrayed your trust—made you lose your precious innocence…” He clenched his jaw, the words hanging in the air like a poison. God, this woman! There was something about her that made him want to strangle her—and love her all at once. From his post nearby, Thomas Greenwood almost stumbled over his own feet. This girl, young and brash, had the audacity to hold her ground in the presence of Edward Blackwood, the titan of industry. “Don’t push me, Isabella,” Edward warned, narrowing his dark eyes, a hint of danger lacing his tone. Isabella merely held up a finger to her lips, signaling him to zip it. “Pack your things and get out. One hour.” His voice dripped with disdain as he turned away, his back to her, striding out of the room as if she were nothing more than an inconvenience. As soon as the engine roared to life outside, Isabella made her way upstairs, rolling her eyes, still fuming. “As if I’d ever care about an old man like you!” she huffed, pouting as she tossed her belongings into a suitcase. “I’m eighteen and blooming; you’re—you’re just old jerky!” In a burst of inspiration, she shot off a text. “Sister, I’m free tonight! Let’s hit up Nightshade and snag some eye candy. Get me the best of the best.” Seconds later, her phone vibrated with a reply: “You got it!” With a brightened mood, Isabella flitted around her room, humming a carefree tune as she packed. “Goodbye, loser! Tonight, I’m living it up…" “Don’t worry about me; I’ve got my own money, my own happiness…” “Madam, I’m sorry…” A servant rushed in, immediately filled with remorse. It was her fault that Isabella was getting tossed out like yesterday’s trash. Isabella placed a comforting hand on the woman’s shoulder, giving her a gracious smile. “No worries! Thanks to you, I’m finally free from that jerk!” The servant's eyes widened in shock. Oh no, the lady must have lost her mind! Before she could even think to question it, Isabella had zipped up her bag and was out the door, skipping down the street in an impossibly good mood. As she twirled down the sidewalk, a sleek Maybach glided past. Thomas turned, recognizing the silhouette of the woman on the curb. “Mr. Blackwood, isn’t that your wife?” Edward’s attention snapped to the window, his eyebrows knitting together in irritation. Was that Isabella Hawthorne, casually grazing her lips over a lollipop, flinging her excitement out into the world? “Seems like she’s having a great time,” Thomas ventured cautiously. “Enjoying misery, more like,” Edward scoffed, an amused snort escaping him. “Let’s speed up,” he ordered, eyes narrowing as he withdrew his gaze. “Yes, sir.” Sorry, Isabella, but the game’s not over yet. Just then, as Isabella sailed along with a carefree bounce in her step, a roar of an accelerated engine shot by her, blasting fumes so thick they stole her breath. “Ugh, gross!” She coughed, spitting out air, indignant as she glanced back, spotting the license plate that sparked a flicker of recognition—a string of six eights. “Edward!” She seethed, stomping her foot in frustration. “What’s the deal with your fancy car? Just because you have money doesn’t mean you have to flaunt it like some overgrown child!” Edward, glancing back through his rearview mirror, couldn’t help but crack a small grin at the sight of her flustered expression. Who would’ve thought that watching Isabella unravel like this would be so entertaining? “Edward Blackwood, you better hope I don’t catch you slipping up. Otherwise, I swear, you’ll regret it!” Isabella growled, grabbing her phone and hitting dial. “Droplet Fund, I need to donate five million.”
Chapter 4
**Blood on the Horizon** "Damn it, using this man's money just brings bad luck!" "Isabella, did you hit the jackpot?" a voice piped through the phone. "Not quite; I think this money is cursed. I'm scared to spend it!" Isabella Hawthorne replied, rolling her eyes. "You can’t be serious. I’m not afraid of bad luck." “Blood on the horizon!” she quipped, a playful grin painting her lips. She hung up and immediately decided to treat herself to a day at Silvercrest Hall, indulging in decadent food and rich wine. If she hadn’t received that call from the Hawthorne Estate, she might have enjoyed the entire day without a care in the world. Stretching her arms, Isabella listened to the soft tone of her sister’s voice on the other end, feeling both amused and annoyed by the conversation. "Isabella, Dad wants you to come over for dinner this weekend. And… he would like you to bring Edward, your husband." Catherine Hawthorne stumbled over her words, nearly spilling the beans. Isabella saw right through her stepsister’s intentions. Catherine had eyes only for Robert Blackwood, clearly hoping to snag him for herself. Ever since Catherine had laid eyes on Robert, she couldn’t hide her desperation. It was glaringly obvious she wanted Isabella out of the picture. As the so-called "good sister," there was no way Isabella would make that easy. “Oh, he’s just so busy. Time slips right by him!” she feigned disappointment. Then, she let out a melodramatic gasp. "Oh, what are you doing? Don’t be a pain; I’m on the phone with my sister..." “Oh come on, really?” Catherine’s voice was filled with exasperation. On the other end, Catherine nearly lost it. "Are you kidding me? This is torture!" "Is your husband next to you?" Catherine asked cautiously, tightening her grip on the phone. “Yep, but don't bring it up—he's being such a nuisance right now!" Isabella smirked, knowing exactly how to rile her sibling. With a click, Isabella hung up, leaving Catherine on the edge of a meltdown. At the Hawthorne house, tension filled the air. Just back from abroad, Catherine was throwing a fit on the couch. "Mom, didn’t you say things were rocky between Isabella and Blackwood? They were supposed to be getting a divorce!" "But when I called, he was right there with her. They were... acting all lovey-dovey!" “How am I supposed to become Mrs. Blackwood like this?” Catherine whined, on the verge of tears. “Are you sure you heard right?” Eleanor Goldsmith questioned. "Her voice was downright sweet, Mom!" Catherine sniffed in jealousy. William Hawthorne sat in contemplation. "I can’t believe Blackwood would choose that girl. "It’s impossible. If he really liked her, he wouldn’t have coerced Isabella’s mom into that whole mess," he sighed. "He took the easy way out—may want to rile you up.” “Dad, if the Blackwoods owe us, why not just let me marry into their family?” William grumbled. Did he really want to consider such a thing? His hands were tied; Mr. Blackwood insisted that Isabella was to be his daughter-in-law. Eleanor chose that moment to comfort her daughter. “Catherine, don't fret! I’ll make sure I become Mrs. Blackwood. Isabella is just a poorly cared-for orphan; she’s no match for you.” Catherine felt a little better. She knew Edward Blackwood was the president of Silverstone Holdings, looking every bit like a Hollywood heartthrob, and with a fortune to boot. In Aldenville, he was the dream date of every socialite. Isabella? Just an unknown girl with no claim to such a man. Without that trick of using a kid to secure a marriage, Isabella would be toast. If only she herself were pregnant with Edward's child—then Isabella would be nothing. On her end of the call, Isabella laughed aloud. The solo act and duet routine of family drama was quite the challenge! Woken from her thoughts, she lost any desire to stay in. After dinner, she hopped in a cab and headed to The Midnight Club. This upscale lounge was exclusive; you had to shell out at least fifty grand just to step inside. Isabella pulled out her golden, diamond-studded WIP card from her purse. The server’s eyes lit up upon seeing it, his voice shifting to a respectful tone. “Welcome, Miss. Right this way, please.”
Chapter 5
Reunion with the Ex Isabella Hawthorne breezed into the Nightshade Lounge, her practiced steps guiding her to the eighth floor with ease. The moment the elevator doors slid open, the pulse of the bass-heavy music hit her like a wave. The place was electric—bunny-costumed dancers swirled on the round platforms, their movements a blend of seduction and revelry. It was a haven for those chasing the high of hormones. Sinful beats intertwined with the sways of bodies grinding on the floor, the air thick with an intoxicating blend of sweat and desire. “Hey, one Bloody Mary, please.” The bartender barely had time to wipe the last glass when a vision in black tulle caught his eye—a striking woman with porcelain skin and eyes that sparkled like dark jewels, catching the light with a faint glimmer. Draped in a sheer wrap, her elegant curves were accentuated by a deep-cut back that showcased a vibrant rose tattoo blooming just below her neck. “Good God,” he thought, a single word tumbling through his mind: siren. Isabella sat at the bar, nursing her drink, a bittersweet pang of melancholy coursing through her. “Hey, beautiful, mind if I join you for a drink?” Another man slid up next to her. “Is that your game—hitting on lonely ladies?” “Just trying to be friendly,” he shrugged, undeterred. A flurry of flirts approached in quick succession, each more persistent than the last. Nathaniel Willowmere entered the scene just in time to witness Isabella dismiss yet another guy cruising for an easy score. “Wow, Isabella, you’ve got a magnetic pull tonight. Any chance you’re actually interested in one of these guys?” “Not a chance. They don’t hold a candle to my ex-husband.” Her stubborn pride hung in the air like a thick fog. Seriously? Edward Blackwood was practically in a league of his own. Who was out there that could even come close? Nathaniel chuckled at her audacity, raising a hand to flag down a server. “Bring us the hottest staff member you have. This lovely lady just got divorced. She might need a little distraction.” The server cast a surprised glance at Isabella, momentarily captivated. “Wait, she’s divorced? No way. What kind of blind man would let someone like that go?” “Good luck getting her to look in your direction,” Nathaniel said with a laugh. “Blackwood! Nice to see you!” Edward Blackwood emerged from a private room, his demeanor as cool as the precision of a well-tuned watch. An idle glance cast downward halted his steps. Was that—Isabella? She stood out like a beacon amidst the crowd, her back a canvas for that striking rose tattoo, legs long and elegant, clad in high heels that barely touched the ground. What on earth was she doing here? Had the sting of their divorce driven her to drink away the blues, seeking solace in this den of temptation? “Mr. Blackwood, is that your wife…?” Thomas Greenwood choked on his words, but the phrase “your wife” made Edward’s brow furrow. He clenched his jaw in irritation. Almost instinctively, Thomas corrected himself, “I meant... Miss Isabella. What’s she doing here?” His scornful laugh betrayed him. “Oh, she’s trailed me here, stalking my every move. What a persistent ghost.” But just as Edward delivered his biting remark, karma offered a swift kick to his ego. A group of dashing men loitered around Isabella, vying for her attention like she was the last lifeboat on a sinking ship. Joyful banter erupted, and Isabella appeared thoroughly unimpressed. His hands balled into fists, frustration etched into his features. “Just look at them—fancy boys strutting around. Why would she come to Nightshade to play these games?” Thomas nearly exploded with laughter at the absurdity of it all. “You gotta admit, the male servers in here are a knockout. Maybe you want me to put in an order for you, just the ten best-looking ones?” “Not interested,” Edward spat, striding down the stairs, his mind reeling. Could it really be that the glamorous woman dazzling everyone was Isabella? The woman who had once adored him, who had tirelessly fought for their marriage despite the looming shadows of his indifference...this couldn’t be her scene. Watching him retreat, Thomas experienced an unfamiliar twinge of sympathy for his boss. The man was blissfully unaware that the game had changed, his ex-wife already moving on while he remained trapped in an emotional haze.
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