Secrets and Lies

Chapter 8: Secrets and Lies

Isla stood frozen, her pulse pounding in her ears as Damien's grip tightened around her wrist. His words echoed in her mind.

"Victoria will destroy anyone who stands in her way. And now, she knows you're standing in mine."

For all his coldness, there was something fierce beneath his calm exterior—something that both scared and pulled her in. But she couldn't let herself get distracted. Not now.

"Let me go, Damien," she said quietly.

After a moment, his fingers loosened, and she pulled her hand back. She took a step away, trying to put space between them, but his gaze held her in place.

"You should've told me the truth," Isla said, her voice sharper than she intended.

Damien ran a hand through his dark hair, his jaw tight. "I was trying to protect you."

"I don't need protection," she snapped. "I need answers."

For a moment, he said nothing. The tension between them hung thick in the air, unspoken words crackling like fire.

Finally, he sighed and walked toward the desk, picking up the marriage certificate. His expression darkened as he studied the paper.

"I didn't know she was connected to your family," he admitted, his voice quieter. "Not until recently."

Isla's heart twisted. "And you thought I didn't deserve to know?"

His eyes met hers, sharp and unreadable. "I didn't want you to panic."

"I'm already panicking," she said, throwing her hands in the air. "Cassian was in this house, Damien. Someone inside let him in. And now, I find out your stepmother might have ties to my family? What else are you hiding?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched, but his voice remained calm. "I'll find out who let Cassian in. And as for Victoria…" He hesitated. "There's something else you need to know."

Isla's stomach twisted. "What?"

Damien crossed the room until he stood just a few inches away from her. "Victoria doesn't act alone," he said. "She has help—people in powerful places. If she's targeting you, it's because you're part of something bigger."

A chill ran down her spine. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Damien said, his voice low, "you're in this whether you want to be or not. And if you're connected to her past, she won't stop until she gets what she wants."

Isla swallowed hard, trying to push down the fear rising inside her. "And what does she want?"

His expression grew colder. "Control."

Over me. Over you. Over everything.

Later that night, Isla sat curled up on the edge of the bed, her mind still spinning. The house was quiet—too quiet. Every shadow seemed to stretch longer, every creak in the walls making her heart race.

She hated feeling like this—like prey.

The memory of Cassian's smooth voice echoed in her mind: "You'll never be free. Damien doesn't protect things—he owns them."

She shook her head. No. She couldn't trust Cassian. Not when it was clear he had his own agenda.

But could she trust Damien?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

Isla's breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she considered ignoring it. But curiosity won out, and she slid off the bed and opened the door.

Damien stood on the other side.

He had changed out of his usual sharp suits, wearing only a simple black T-shirt and dark pants. The casual look didn't make him seem any less dangerous.

"Can't sleep?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "No. Too much on my mind."

He hesitated for a moment, then held up a small silver flash drive. "I found something," he said. "Something you need to see."

Isla stepped aside, letting him in. He moved toward the desk and plugged the drive into her laptop.

A video file popped up on the screen.

"What is this?" she asked, sitting down beside him.

"A hidden camera feed from inside the estate," Damien said. "I had the security team search through the footage after Cassian's visit."

Isla's heart pounded as he pressed play.

The footage was grainy but clear enough. It showed a side entrance to the mansion—the same entrance Damien had once mentioned was only accessible by staff.

A figure appeared on the screen, dressed in a dark coat and moving quietly through the hallway.

Isla leaned closer. "Who is that?"

Damien didn't answer right away. He paused the video and zoomed in on the figure's face.

Isla gasped.

It was Martha—one of the housekeepers.

"She let him in," Isla whispered. "Why would she do that?"

Damien's face hardened. "Money. Cassian pays well."

The betrayal stung, even though Isla barely knew Martha. Someone inside these walls—someone she had passed by every day—had opened the door to danger.

"What happens now?" Isla asked.

"She's already gone," Damien said, his voice cold. "I fired her this afternoon."

The finality in his tone sent a shiver through her. Damien didn't take betrayal lightly.

"But Cassian's message was clear," she said quietly. "He's not finished."

"No," Damien agreed, his gaze dark. "And neither is Victoria."

The following morning, Isla stood by the window, watching the early sunlight stretch across the estate. The air felt heavy, as if the house itself was holding its breath.

She heard Damien's footsteps before she saw him. When he stepped into the room, his face was serious.

"We need to talk," he said.

Isla turned to face him. "About what?"

"I contacted a private investigator," Damien said, holding up a slim folder. "I wanted to know more about your family's past. About your father."

A knot of anxiety twisted in Isla's stomach. "And?"

Damien opened the folder, pulling out a faded black-and-white photograph. It showed three people—a man with dark hair, a woman with sharp eyes, and a young boy standing between them.

Isla's breath caught. She recognized the boy immediately.

"That's… my father," she said softly.

Damien nodded. "And the woman beside him?"

Her blood ran cold as realization sank in.

It was Victoria.

"I don't understand," Isla murmured, her fingers trembling as she took the photo. "What was she doing with my father?"

Damien's voice was low. "Your father and Victoria weren't strangers. They were partners—once. And something tore them apart."

A hundred questions flooded her mind. Why hadn't her father ever mentioned Victoria? And why would someone as powerful as her target Isla now?

"What did they want?" Isla asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't know," Damien admitted. "But whatever it was, it didn't end peacefully."

Isla clutched the photograph tighter, her heart pounding in her chest.

"So… this isn't just about us," she said. "It's about something bigger."

Damien stepped closer, his voice soft but unyielding. "And if we don't stop her, she'll destroy everything in her path."

For the first time since waking up married to a stranger, Isla realized the truth.

This wasn't just about power.

It was about revenge.

And the battle was only beginning.