Love Triangle Begins

Julian Mercer was not a man who backed down easily. Isla's sudden, inexplicable marriage had left a gaping wound in him filled with betrayal, confusion, and an ache he couldn't shake. He had spent years envisioning their future together, and in the blink of an eye, it had been stolen from him.

But by what? By whom?

Julian had spent days trying to rationalize it. Maybe Isla had been blackmailed. Maybe Calloway forced her into some business deal. Maybe God help him. She had simply chosen someone else. None of it made sense.

So he did what any man with an obsessive need for answers would do.

He started digging into her past. Maybe something there will answer the question he has been thinking of.

Julian's first instinct was to go back to the woman he had known for years. The woman who had fought her way to the top, who never let anyone dictate her choices. 

But as he traced through Isla's past, something began to unsettle him. It started with a small inconsistencies. A case she had supposedly worked on but left unfinished. A hospital she never mentioned. Business trip that didn't line up with the actual record. 

At first, he brushed them off. People forgot details. Schedules changed. There may be a reason why Isla didn't tell him even thou she always tells him everything while they were together.

But then, he noticed something bigger. Entire months, years-whole stretches of time-were missing. It was subtle. In her firm record, in her credit card transaction, and even in her calendar. There were pockets of her life that simply didn't exist. And she had never questioned it. It was as if someone had taken an eraser to parts of her history or made them disappear. The new question is why and how does it relate to her marriage with Damien?

Julian sat at his desk, staring at the timeline he had pieced together. Notes were scattered across the table, printouts pinned on his board. His hands curled into fists.

The Isla he knew- the Isla who planned every detail of her life-would have noticed something like this…

Unless...

She couldn't.

Julian had spent weeks convinced that Isla had betrayed him. That she had made a choice, that she had abandoned him for Calloway. But what if she hadn't?

A chill crawled down his spine. What if this wasn't a clerical error? What if something happened to her-something she had been made to forget?

What if her marriage to Calloway wasn't a mistake as she claimed it was? What if it is a cover-up for something worse?

Julian inhaled sharply, his resolve hardening. He needed to talk to Isla. But more than that he needed to find out what had been done to her. No matter what it took, he was going to find the truth. And he was going to find out who had been pulling the strings all along.

Even if it destroys everything in the process.

Damien was waiting for Isla when she stepped into the dimly lit study. He stood by the floor-to-the-ceiling windows, a glass of whiskey in hand, the skyline of New York casting long shadows across the room. Isla wasn't sure if he had called her in for a conversation or a confrontation. With Damien Calloway, it was always both.

"You called for me?"

"You are meeting with my stepmother today," he said without turning around. It wasn't a question. 

Isla crossed her arms. "How very perspective of you."

A dry chuckle left his lips. He finally turned around, his sharp gaze locking onto her fierce eyes. "Victoria doesn't request meetings. She orchestrates them. You should be prepared for whatever she had planned."

She arched a brow. "And what exactly would that be?" 

Damien took a sip of the whiskey in his hand. "That depends on whether she sees you as an asset….or a problem."

"So which am I?" she asked looking irritated.

He leaned against the window frame, studying her. "That's what she'll decide today."

The weight of his word pressed against her ribs, but Isla refused to let it show. Instead, she met his gaze head-on. "If she's anything like the drama I watch and the cases I handle, I already know how this is going to end."

Damien smirked. "And how is that?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know, leave my son, name your price and I'll send you money. Ma'am it wasn't as if I wanted the marriage in the first place."

His expression changed, and Isla noticed it. Was that amusement? Before she could decide on that, they went back to the same stoic and cold expression he always had. "It's not."

She eyed him up before she chuckled drying. "You don't get to decide that."

"I'm not the one who arranged this, Isla. Neither are you." His voice was calm, and measured =, but his grip on the whiskey bottle tightened. "Yet here we are."

Then Isla tilted her head, a bitter smirk forming. "What, you think some invisible hand forced us into marriage for some grand conspiracy."

Damien didn't answer immediately. Instead, he swirled the whiskey in his glass, his expression calculating.

"I think people with power rarely do things without reason," he finally said. "And whatever reason for this? It wasn't love and we are going to find out."

"Well, I don't care what their reasons were. This marriage is a mistake and it's temporary."

"You keep telling yourself that."

She hated how his voice made it sound like a challenge.

He took a step forward, still composed. He simply lifted his glass in a mock toast. "Enjoy your tea with Victoria."

There was something about the way he said it like he knew it wouldn't be just tea. For the first time since this entire mess began. Isla wondered if she was walking straight into a trap.

The moment Isla stepped into the lavish parlor, she knew accepting the invitation was a mistake. It was a world filled with elegance and quiet menace- the kind of place where whispered threats were served alongside fine porcelain cups and the air smelled of old money and polished deception.

Victoria, always poised, sat across from her, legs crossed, a serene smile on her lips. She looked every bit of a refined socialite, but Isla knew better. The woman isn't just Damien step mother-she was a power player. Someone who operated in shadows, who never spoke without purpose. And she had called her here.

The housekeeper silently poured tea, the clinking of china. The only sound in the room. Isla watched as Victoria lifted her cup, taking a delicate sip before finally speaking.

"You're quite the talk of the city these days, Isla," Victoria said, voice smooth as silk. "Marrying Damien is such an…unexpected turn of events. Quite a shock to everyone."

Isla's fingers tightened around her cup. "It was a shock to me as well."

Victoria hummed, settling her cup down with a soft click. "I'm sure it was."

Isla gazes at her sharply. What does she mean by that statement? She puts a smile on her face. "Don't worry ma'am. We won't be married for long. The annulment process begins son and we will off each other back." 

A beat of silence. Then Victoria tilted her head slightly, amusement flickering in her sharp gaze. 

"Annulment? Oh, darling…" she chuckled, it was low and knowing, as if Isla just suggested something absurd.

A chill ran down Isla's spine.

Victoria's perfectly manicured fingers glided along the rim of her teacup. "Let me give you some advice, Isla. You won't leave this marriage. Do not leave this marriage."

"And why is that?"

Victoria smiled like a predator indulging in a game. "Because, my dear, this is not just about you and Damien. This marriage….. it's woven into something far more intricate than you realize." Victoria's voice dropped slightly, a whisper meant to unsettle. "Walking away now? That would be…..unwise darling."

Isla's pulse kicked up. "What are you saying?"

Victoria took a sip of her tea again, her expression unfazed. "I'm saying that mistakes don't just happen in families like ours. And neither do marriages." She took another sip, unbothered by Isla's growing unease. "Some things are designed to be."

"So you're saying my marriage to your stepson was planned?"

Victoria dropped her cup carefully and looked at Isla. "

I'm saying you should be careful dear. Very careful. Some doors, once opened cannot be closed again…"

Victoria stood up gracefully, smoothing out an invisible crease in her dress. "Enjoy the tea, darling. And think very carefully about your next move.

With effortless poise, she walked away, leaving Isla gripping her cup with cold fingers, her mind racing with questions. This wasn't just a mistake. It was something much, much bigger. And she hates to think for once that Damien was right.

Damien adjusted the cuffs of his suit as he stepped into his private office at Calloway Industries. The skyline of New York stretched before him through the glass walls, but he barely paid it any mind. His thoughts were elsewhere—on Isla, on the twisted circumstances that had tied them together, and now, on Victoria's cryptic warning.

He had spent the night poring over surveillance footage, business records, and anything that might give him a clue as to how he ended up married to Isla Bennet. But the deeper he looked, the more the puzzle pieces refused to fit.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sharp click of the door opening. His secretary's voice followed, polite but cautious.

"Mr. Calloway, Cassian Wolfe is here to see you."

Damien's jaw tightened. "Send him in."

Cassian strolled in with the casual confidence of a man who enjoyed getting under his rival's skin. He was dressed impeccably, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he surveyed Damien's office.

"Nice view," Cassian mused. "But then again, you've always liked looking down on people."

Damien leaned back in his chair, unimpressed. "Cut the theatrics, Cassian. Why are you here?"

Cassian took his time settling into the chair across from him, crossing one leg over the other. "I heard the most interesting piece of news this morning. Isla Bennet… now Isla Calloway?" He let out a low whistle. "Marrying your business rival's golden girl? Bold move, even for you."

Damien didn't flinch. "Is there a point to this conversation, or are you just here to waste my time?"

Cassian's smirk widened. "Oh, I always have a point, Damien. And right now, my point is her."

Damien's fingers tightened around his pen, but he kept his expression impassive. "Stay away from her."

Cassian chuckled. "Now, why would I do that? Isla's sharp. Ambitious. A woman like that doesn't just marry a man like you overnight without a reason."

Damien's eyes darkened. "You don't know anything about Isla."

Cassian leaned forward, his gaze gleaming with something dangerously close to amusement. "Don't I? Because from where I'm standing, she looks like a woman in need of an escape. And I'm more than happy to provide one."

Damien's patience snapped. "She's not your concern."

Cassian raised his hands in mock surrender. "Relax. I'm not here to steal your wife. I'm here to make an offer."

Damien's gaze remained sharp. "What kind of offer?"

Cassian's smirk turned predatory. "Give her to me."

The room went deathly silent.

Damien's grip on the pen nearly snapped it in half. "Excuse me?"

Cassian tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Isla's wasted on you, Damien. You see her as a problem, something to be contained. But me? I see potential. I'm offering her a way out—a position in my company, far away from this circus you've trapped her in."

Damien's expression was unreadable, but inside, something cold and possessive coiled in his chest.

"And what makes you think she'd accept?" he asked smoothly.

Cassian's smile widened. "Because Isla isn't the type to be caged. And right now? You're her biggest prison."

Before Damien could respond, the door to his office swung open.

Isla stepped inside, looking every bit the composed, confident woman she was known to be. But there was tension in her shoulders, and Damien didn't miss the way her sharp gaze flickered between the two men.

"Am I interrupting something?" she asked, her voice cool.

Cassian stood, flashing her a charming smile. "Not at all. I was just telling Damien here that I have a very lucrative offer for you."

Isla arched a brow. "Is that so?"

Cassian stepped closer. "You're a smart woman, Isla. You don't strike me as the type to settle for a life dictated by a marriage you didn't choose. So, let me give you an alternative."

Damien watched her reaction carefully. Isla's lips parted slightly, but instead of answering immediately, she studied Cassian, weighing his words.

After a moment, she spoke.

"I appreciate the offer, Mr. Wolfe," she said, voice smooth and unreadable. "But you seem to have misunderstood something."

Cassian's grin didn't falter. "And what's that?"

Isla stepped closer to Damien's desk, placing a hand on its polished surface, her body language exuding quiet authority.

"I don't need saving," she said simply.

Cassian chuckled, clearly entertained. "A shame. You could do wonders outside of Damien's shadow."

Isla didn't take the bait. Instead, she glanced at Damien, then back at Cassian. "I choose where I stand, Mr. Wolfe. And if I ever decide to leave, trust me—I won't need your help."

Cassian held her gaze for a beat longer before laughing softly. "Noted."

He turned to Damien, amusement dancing in his eyes. "You better hold on to her, Calloway. Women like Isla? They don't stay where they're not valued."

With that, he walked out, leaving an unsettling silence in his wake.

The moment the door shut behind him, Isla exhaled.

Damien studied her carefully. "You shouldn't have entertained him."

She met his gaze, fire flickering in her own. "And you shouldn't assume you get to dictate who I talk to."

He leaned back, his jaw tightening. "Cassian doesn't do things out of goodwill. If he's interested in you, it's because he thinks he can use you."

Isla crossed her arms. "So does that make us even?"

Damien stiffened.

She let out a bitter laugh. "You don't trust me, Damien. And I don't trust you. But I won't be a pawn in whatever game you and your rivals are playing."

He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he studied her—the way her eyes flashed with defiance, the steel in her voice.

Then, he surprised them both with his next words.

"If you ever decide to leave," he said slowly, "I won't let him be the one you run to."

She blinked, caught off guard.

For the first time, Damien wasn't just seeing Isla as an inconvenience. He was seeing her as something else entirely.

Something dangerous.

Something he wasn't sure he wanted to let go of.