Chapter 1
Isabella felt utterly exhausted by her marriage. “I admit, I still have feelings for Margaret. Can you really erase your first love from your mind? Isabella, getting tangled up in this before we’re ready could create real problems. So let’s take a step back and be apart for now.” William’s words rang hollow to her on their wedding night. In Isabella's view, this was nothing short of shameless. If he couldn’t forget his old flame, why marry her in the first place? “I can give you time, William, but you can only choose one of us,” she told him then. What she didn’t realize was how difficult that choice was for him, since three years had passed without resolution. For three long years, they lived like husband and wife in name only. … A sudden flash of lightning tore through the sky, followed by a tremor of thunder that pulled Isabella from her reverie. She stood by the window, her pale fingers pressed against the icy glass, tracing the raindrops as they slid downward like tears on a sorrowful face. She felt bone-weary, as if this marriage was a weight she couldn’t carry anymore. A sharp knock at the door was followed by a figure bursting in. Isabella turned to see Fiona striding in, her high heels clicking sharply against the floor. “What are you doing here, not on set during a shoot?” Isabella frowned, feeling her annoyance bubble up. “Your husband has replaced me as the lead with his new darling. Don’t you know?” Fiona snapped. Isabella’s well-groomed brows furrowed. Really? She was the producer, and somehow she hadn’t heard about a major casting change? How ridiculous. Without a word, Isabella turned on her heel and left the room. She took the express elevator straight to William's executive office. “Sorry, Ms. Hawthorne, you can’t go in right now,” the secretary said, her anxiety practically written all over her face. “Step aside, and don’t make me say it again,” Isabella replied, her voice low and cool, the kind that demanded attention. The ornate mahogany doors opened slowly, and the sight inside froze her in place. William lounged in his chair, lost in the Luxurious touch of a woman behind him, her hands working magic on his shoulders. His head rested against her curves in a way that screamed relaxation. “Who are you? You should’ve knocked before barging in,” the woman said, startled as she scrambled to get away from William. In stark contrast to her panic, William remained comfortably in his chair, casting a lazy glance at Isabella. Isabella kept her composure, her gaze ice-cold as she shifted to the woman in a well-fitted outfit. “You’re fired. Please leave.” “On what grounds?” The woman looked bewildered, her eyes darting back to William in a plea, “Sir Blackwood…” William shifted slightly, a smirk playing on his lips as he responded, “Didn’t you hear? Ms. Hawthorne told you to get lost. Should I call security?” After the woman stormed out, he pushed himself up and strolled over to Isabella, his strikingly handsome eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, you’re finally ready to talk to me?” Isabella tightened her fists. Right—the silent treatment had almost slipped her mind. They were very much still in a standoff.
Chapter 2
**Wisdom in Simplicity** A month ago, Isabella Hawthorne found herself holed up in a hospital room, her stomach bleeding from stress after trying to land a crucial project for William Blackwood. Just when she thought things couldn’t get more chaotic, she stumbled upon him at a clinic, tenderly guiding a sniffling Margaret Bennett to see a specialist. The scene had played out like a soap opera—too dramatic to be real. Since that moment, they had been locked in a silent war, and now, here they were face-to-face again. With a sharp motion, Isabella slammed a stack of files down onto William's grand desk. “William Blackwood, I couldn’t care less who you’re trying to charm, but stay the hell away from my projects.” “Okay, I get it.” He replied smoothly, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. “This is a small issue; no need to fly off the handle.” Or maybe this was just his clever way of breaking the ice. Having said her piece, Isabella turned to leave, but as she moved, William unexpectedly caught her by the arm. “Not interested in sticking around for a chat?” he asked with a playful smile. Isabella shrugged off his hand, a chill in her eyes that cut through the warm tension in the room. “What do you want me to say? I’m not playing by your rules with those other women.” She glanced at her watch. “Finn O’Connor's interview is on in five minutes, and I need to get the scoop on him if I’m going to cater to his tastes. I hear O’Connor Enterprises is looking to invest in entertainment, and I don’t want anyone else to snag that juicy opportunity.” “Catering to his tastes, huh? If his taste happens to be women, are you planning to throw yourself into the mix?” William smirked, a wicked gleam in his eye. “I’ll consider sending your little bevy of ladies your way. They’d bring the best value,” Isabella shot back, her expression stone-cold. William smiled, genuinely amused for a fleeting moment. But the light dimmed quickly as she continued, her tone dripping with disdain. “If sending Margaret Bennett to bed with Finn O’Connor lands us a deal with O’Connor Enterprises, would you be game, William?” As the words left her lips, she saw the shift in William’s face—his amusement vanished, replaced by a chilling seriousness. “Isabella, don’t joke about that.” She held his gaze, taking in the striking features of his face, feeling a strange tightness in her chest, as if invisible blades were slicing through her heart. She had always known William to be a blend of warmth and cruelty, saving his tenderness for his other women while reserving the harshness for her. --- Isabella hurried back to her office, the live feed of Finn O'Connor's interview already underway. There he was on the screen, dressed impeccably in a custom-tailored black suit, his chiseled features almost too perfect, exuding an undeniable air of privilege. Having navigated through the cutthroat world of entertainment for years, Isabella thought she had seen it all, but Finn was different—complex, restrained, his underlying arrogance barely concealed beneath a polished exterior. He reminded her of a sleek, dangerous predator lying in wait. A reporter asked, “I hear you’re a medical doctor who funded the construction of a new medical building at your alma mater. What made you give up practicing?” Finn smiled slightly, his voice steady and low, carrying an unusual maturity for someone his age. “I have ambition. And not everyone is worthy of their dreams.” The reporter continued, “You’re engaged to Emily Langford—does this marriage reflect your ambition too? Do you really think you can maintain a loveless union for life?” Without missing a beat, Finn calmly asked back, “What makes you think I don’t love her?” The reporter shot back, “A woman who seems more interested in partying and spending money—what could you possibly love about that?” Finn smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Wisdom often hides behind simplicity; sometimes, a woman without complexities is the most charming of all.” ---
Chapter 3
Isabella Hawthorne switched off the television, massaging her temples as another wave of headache threatened to crash over her. Nathan O’Connor, in all his dangerous glory, was a force to be reckoned with—whether considered an enemy or a potential ally. It was all too easy to get caught in his web and lose more than just her pride. “What’d you turn it off for?” Fiona Whitaker demanded, still glued to the screen with a dreamy look in her eyes that bordered on ridiculous. If she were any more enamored, she might actually drool. “Knock it off with the infatuation. Nathan O’Connor isn’t a guy you can rein in. You’d just be asking for trouble,” Isabella warned, her tone serious. Fiona rolled her eyes, a dramatic gesture that suggested a generation gap between them. She pointed a finger skyward, shaking it as if she were lecturing a child. “Finn O’Connor is a god. You don’t control him; you fantasize about him!” “But I’m only interested in the cash he’s sitting on,” Isabella retorted, a sly smile dancing on her lips. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. Whenever that look appeared, Fiona knew Isabella was scheming something. And sure enough, Isabella pulled a file from her bag and handed it over. It included a photograph. “This guy is Edward Underwood—Finn O’Connor’s executive assistant. I’m giving you a week to get the scoop on Finn through him. Word is, he’s a big fan of yours. Shouldn’t be too hard for you.” Fiona flipped through the documents, her interest piqued. Edward wasn’t all that handsome, but his polished demeanor and unwavering idolization made him a prime target. She recalled him attending her fan meet-and-greets, but she’d never really noticed him before. “Alright, I’ll see what I can do,” she said, closing the file with determination and flashing Isabella a thumbs-up. In this fast-paced world, it was rare for the white goddess to speed things up, but within a week, she and Edward were thick as thieves. On the phone, she sounded downright ecstatic. “Isabella, you better have some serious rewards lined up for me. Edward dropped some intel on Nathan O’Connor. He’s hosting a dinner tonight at Regal Feast Hall, and it’s happening at ...” After hanging up, Isabella hopped into her car and sped off to Regal Feast Hall, determined to find Nathan. But when she arrived, she scoured the venue, only to find out Finn O’Connor was nowhere to be found—not even a ghost of him. “That Fiona Whitaker is becoming increasingly unreliable,” Isabella muttered under her breath as she navigated the high heels that clicked angrily on the floor of the Lavender Restroom. Washing her hands in front of the mirror, she heard faint sobbing from one of the stall doors. The ghostly sound sent a shiver down her spine. It was a lonely, eerie sound in the dimly lit restroom. Despite being a staunch realist, Isabella felt her heart quicken. Gripping her bag tighter, she instinctively followed the sound. Peering into the last stall, she hesitated before slowly nudging the door open. To her surprise, a small boy named Oliver Green jumped into view. He was perched on the toilet seat, his cherubic face stained with tears, and his wide, innocent eyes looked up at her, filled with pity. “Oh, so it’s just you crying in here,” Isabella said, feeling the tension lift as she squatted down to his level. She gently wiped a tear from his cheek with her fingertip. “What’s wrong, little guy? Did you lose your mom? Come on, let me help you find her, okay?” Offering her hand, she smiled warmly at the child, ready to bring him back to safety.
Chapter 4
“Daddy says I was a bonus.” Oliver Green didn’t hesitate, slipping his tiny hand into Isabella Hawthorne’s palm, a disgruntled pout on his face. “I don’t have a mom. Daddy says I was a bonus.” Isabella Hawthorne paused, caught off guard. “Bonus? I didn’t know Celestia Communications had started offering that.” With a bemused smile, she led the little boy out of the lavenders-scented bathroom, her heart warm yet bewildered. She had asked around the Regent Hotel, but no one recognized Oliver Green or could say where he came from. In exasperation, Isabella decided to call the cops, her next move was to take the boy home. Isabella’s apartment in Golden Estates was modest—a two-bedroom unit she had moved into right after her wedding night. Three years had slipped by since, and tonight was supposed to be a quiet evening. She poured a glass of orange juice and handed it to him, ruffling his hair. “What’s your name, little guy?” “I’m Sebastian.” He replied, punctuating his words with a slurpy sip through the straw. As Isabella cut up some fruit and pulled out a few snacks, Sebastian made himself at home, munching away while demanding, “Pretty lady, I want to watch cartoons!” “Alright, I can do that.” Isabella flicked on the TV, settling into the couch with the child beside her as they dove into the animated world of “Bear Adventures.” Before long, with his tummy full, Sebastian nestled against Isabella’s shoulder, surrendering to sleep. The room was peaceful, punctuated only by the gentle hum of the show, a sweet scene unfolding that felt surreal. Suddenly, the door swung open, and Fiona Whitaker stepped in. She froze, her jaw dropping as she spotted the unusual duo on the couch, sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains, casting dappled patterns on their resting forms. “Where’d this little dude come from?” Fiona asked, bewildered. “I found him,” Isabella replied, shooting her a warning glare. “You better not come too close. I nearly wrecked the royal banquet thanks to you.” Fiona huffed, throwing her hands up defensively. “Hey, that’s not on me! There was an emergency at the O’Connor estate. Someone went missing—so the dinner got canceled last minute.” Before Isabella could retort, the doorbell rang, and Fiona practically dashed to answer it, relief washing over her. As she swung the heavy door open, her eyes widened, and she rubbed them vigorously. No way this was real. “Mr. O’Connor?” “Hello. Are you the one who called the cops? I’m Sebastian’s father.” His deep, magnetic voice had a way of drawing attention, instantly silencing any small talk. “Oh, the kid… he’s in here.” Fiona stammered, the elegant woman fumbling over her words in the presence of his commanding aura. Finn O’Connor barely nodded as he stepped inside, his demeanor both polite and chillingly distant. “What’s going on?” Isabella called from the couch, only to stop as she caught sight of Finn striding through her living space. He was dressed to the nines in a tailored black suit, his hair slicked back impeccably. The slender lines of his physique screamed sophistication, while the faint scent of tobacco mingled with the rich aroma of whatever fine whiskey he had just enjoyed hung in the air behind him. As he passed her, Finn merely offered a curt acknowledgment, his gaze appraising, his presence striking and unyielding. He paused by the couch where Sebastian had peacefully dozed off, careful not to wake him. With practiced ease, he slipped off his blazer, casting it over the child’s little frame. The contrast between his cold demeanor and the tenderness of his actions was stark. There was a subtle elegance in the way he handled the responsibility of a child, revealing a new layer of his persona that stirred something unexpected within Isabella. She stared, caught between awe and regret. If only she had known this precious little boy belonged to Finn O’Connor. There was no way she would have let him nap on the couch—she would have treated him like royalty.
Chapter 5
Isabella Hawthorne hit a brick wall. Just as Finn O'Connor was about to leave with Oliver Green cradled in his arms, Isabella snapped back to reality and hurried to block his path. Here she was, scouting for a golden opportunity and ready to seize it. She couldn’t let this slip away easily. “Mr. O'Connor, hello! I’m Isabella Hawthorne with Lynwood Guild Media…” Finn paused, his gaze piercing. It held a depth that spoke volumes—there was so much unspoken emotion swirling behind those dark eyes, a complexity that felt anything but distant. But they were supposed to be strangers. “Sorry, but I don’t do business outside the office. If you need something, go through my assistant.” His voice was cold and devoid of any warmth. Ugh—Isabella had encountered a stiff wall. Finn continued his way out of the Willowbrook Apartments, making his way downstairs where a car was waiting. Edward Underwood, his faithful assistant, promptly opened the door and tentatively asked, “Sir, do you want me to write a check for her?” Finn was known for his desire to settle up. In his world, problems were usually resolved with cash. He paused, instinctively glancing at the well-lit window above, where the golden glow flickered in his dark eyes for just a moment. “No need. She doesn’t require that.” The car glided smoothly along the wide streets, Oliver fast asleep, nestled against the plush leather of the seat. From the passenger seat, Edward turned to Finn, who was buried in paperwork. “Sir, Ryan’s school is having a parent-child event tomorrow. You….” “My schedule is packed. Have Benjamin Fletcher take him.” Finn’s tone was flat, his attention focused on the documents as his long fingers brushed over critical notes. Edward sighed, used to this behavior but unable to stifle his concern. “Sir, forgive me for being outspoken, but a father should spend time with his son. Ryan needs that connection.” “Then learn to keep your mouth shut next time.” Finn’s icy stare switched to Edward, sending a clear message. Finn was untouchable, and no one dared to question him, not even his closest confidants. Sweat prickled Edward’s palms as he realized he’d crossed a line. “I apologize, sir. I’ll be more careful next time.” Oliver didn’t stir as Finn carried him into the Rosewood Villa, placing him gently in the small crib in his room. He undressed the child and tucked him in with practiced ease, the dim amber light of the room creating a warm, comforting atmosphere. Finn sat on the edge of the crib, carefully adjusting the blanket around his son. He couldn’t help it; he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss onto the soft, tender cheek. How he longed to be close to his own flesh and blood! But facing that truth was another matter entirely. Ryan’s dark, expressive eyes mirrored his mother’s, a poignant reminder of what Finn wished to forget. * That night, Isabella Hawthorne dreamed of a long, winding alley in a rain-soaked southern town. She found herself pressed against a moss-covered wall by the towering figure of George, his chest hard against hers, their noses barely grazing. Panic swirled as she gazed into his deep, slightly melancholic eyes, which flickered like stars in a twilight sky. “Do you like me?” His voice slithered around her, alluring and mischievous. Even in her dream state, Isabella felt her heart race wildly, out of control.
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