An Uneasy Alliance

Chapter 2: An Uneasy Alliance

Isla sat on her couch, staring at the black envelope on the coffee table. The words from the note echoed in her mind:

"Don't trust him. He's more dangerous than you think."

Her fingers tightened around the glass of water she was holding. The message was clear—someone wanted to warn her. But who? And why?

Her thoughts drifted to Damien. He was cold. Calculating. Dangerous in ways she couldn't quite understand. But something about him didn't fit the image of a man who would trap her in a marriage.

And that unsettled her even more.

Her phone buzzed, cutting through the silence. She flinched, heart racing as she picked it up.

Damien Calloway.

For a moment, she considered ignoring it. But she needed answers. Whatever was happening, she couldn't figure it out alone. Taking a deep breath, she answered.

"Hello?"

"You're home." Damien's voice was smooth, steady—too steady.

"Yes," she said carefully.

A pause. Then, "We need to meet."

Her pulse quickened. "Why?"

"I have information. And I don't trust phones." His tone left no room for argument. "My office. An hour."

"Wait—" she started, but he had already hung up.

Isla let out a frustrated breath. Of course, he wouldn't ask. He commanded. And the worst part? She knew she'd go. Because no matter how much she wanted to walk away, she needed to know the truth.

An hour later, Isla stood in front of a sleek glass tower in the heart of the city. The Calloway Industries logo gleamed above the entrance—bold, powerful, impossible to ignore.

She hesitated for a moment before pushing through the heavy doors. The lobby was cold and polished, with marble floors and walls of tinted glass. Everything about it screamed control.

A polished woman at the front desk gave her a quick once-over. "Miss Bennett?"

"Yes," Isla said, her voice firmer than she felt.

"He's expecting you. Take the private elevator."

The elevator doors slid open silently as she stepped inside. Her heart thumped against her ribs as the floor numbers ticked upward. When the doors finally opened, Damien stood waiting.

His presence filled the room—tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a sharp black suit. His expression was unreadable, but his dark eyes locked on her the moment she stepped out.

"You came," he said.

"You didn't leave me much choice," she replied, lifting her chin.

A flicker of something—amusement, maybe—crossed his face before he turned and gestured to his office. "Come in."

Isla followed him inside. The space was just as imposing as the man himself—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, shelves lined with leather-bound books, and a massive desk that looked like it belonged to a king.

"You said you had information," she said, crossing her arms. "What did you find?"

Damien leaned against the edge of his desk, watching her for a long moment before speaking. "I had my team trace the marriage records. According to the system, our marriage is legally binding."

Her stomach twisted. "That's impossible. I never signed anything."

He handed her a folder. Inside was a copy of their marriage certificate—her name, his name, and their signatures at the bottom.

The signature next to her name looked real. But she hadn't written it.

"This is forged," she said quietly.

"I know." Damien's voice was colder now. "And whoever did it wants us trapped together. The question is—why?"

Isla's mind raced. None of this made sense. Who would go to such lengths to bind them together? And for what reason?

She met his gaze. "Do you have any enemies?"

His lips curved into a humorless smile. "Plenty. But there's one person who fits the profile."

"Who?"

"Victoria Hale."

The name sent a chill down her spine. "Who is she?"

"My stepmother," Damien said, his voice tight. "And she's the kind of woman who doesn't take no for an answer."

A million questions flooded Isla's mind, but one stood out. "Why would your stepmother want us married?"

Damien pushed off the desk and walked toward the window. His shoulders were tense, like he was holding back something dangerous. "Control. She wants to control my company—and my life. If she orchestrated this, it means she's after something bigger."

His words sent a shiver down her spine. She barely knew Damien, but it was becoming clear—he was tangled in a web of secrets, and now she was too.

"I should walk away," Isla said, more to herself than to him. "This isn't my problem."

"You can't," Damien said quietly, turning back to her. "Not anymore."

His words hung heavy between them. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. Whoever did this wasn't done. Walking away wouldn't stop them.

"What do you want from me, Damien?" she asked, her voice softer now.

"I want answers," he said. "And until we find them, we stay married."

Her heart pounded in her chest. "You're serious?"

"Completely."

Isla shook her head. This was insane. But the truth was—she wanted answers, too.

"Fine," she said. "But if we're doing this, I want full transparency. No more secrets."

A flicker of something—approval, maybe—flashed in his eyes. "Agreed."

She took a step closer, her nerves tightening. "And one more thing—I found a note in my apartment. Someone's watching us."

His expression darkened instantly. "What did it say?"

Without a word, she pulled the crumpled note from her pocket and handed it to him. Damien's jaw clenched as he read the words.

"This changes everything," he said quietly. "We're not just dealing with Victoria. Someone else is involved."

A chill swept through her. Whoever was behind this wasn't going to stop.

"What now?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Damien folded the note and slipped it into his pocket. "Now, we play the game. But we play it our way."

For the first time since this nightmare started, Isla didn't feel completely powerless. She still didn't trust Damien—but right now, he was the only person who could help her survive whatever was coming next.

And something told her—it was only the beginning.