Isabel Jones felt like she was one breath away from breaking. Her voice shook with raw emotion as she faced Maximilian Riley. “You're proposing—and you want me to help your fiancée...? Maximilian, how are you any different from your sister? Why are you so cruel to me?”
Maximilian's expression hardened. “Are you really going to make a scene?” Frustration bled into his voice.
Isabel could barely breathe. The realization crushed her: Maximilian would never give her what she truly wanted. Then he spoke again. “Even if I don't end up marrying Kayleigh, I'll still marry someone else in the end. Maybe a Fitzgerald. Maybe a Lennox. But never you. Do you understand?”
His words cut deep. Isabel let out a bitter laugh. “I never expected you to marry me. I know my place... I knew we'd end eventually.”
“Isabel, be realistic. We're adults. As long as you behave, when this is over, I won't leave you high and dry. You can pick any house in Silver Bay. I'll give you a car, money—whatever you need.” Maximilian rose and closed the distance between them. “Be here first thing tomorrow.”
“Maximilian, I want to get married too,” Isabel said, numb. Her voice was flat, hollow, stripped of hope.
Maximilian paused and glanced back at her. Tears welled in her eyes, uncontrollable. “I'm serious,” she said.
“Get some rest. I'll pretend you're just acting out. When you're really ready to end this—and you want marriage—let me know. I'll find you a promising young man from a modest family—someone on the company staff.” Maximilian said it as if he were granting her a grand favor, then left.
He was confident that, with Isabel's background, she'd never land a decent man. He believed he'd been more than patient with her. Marriage and legitimacy were off the table—but in every other way, he could satisfy her.
Isabel smiled bitterly and sank weakly to the floor. Maximilian had used her for four years. Now that he was tired of her, he planned to marry her off to some low-level employee he could keep under his thumb. He controlled her now, and he expected to control her future marriage, too.
Maximilian's cruelty had no limits.
But it didn't matter. Tonight, Isabel was going to meet Mr. Alexander—someone even Maximilian wouldn't dare cross. Marrying Mr. Alexander would put an end to everything.
...
The next day, at Riverview Villa, unease settled in Isabel's stomach. The lavish mansion was a world away from her small rented apartment—the one Maximilian had provided, less a home than a gilded cage.
“Ah, the assistant has arrived,” Kayleigh Fernandez greeted her, offering a smile that looked almost genuine. Kayleigh wore the role of hostess like she'd been born to it—as if the mansion itself had been waiting for her.
Isabel had once dreamed of marrying Maximilian and becoming the lady of the house. But thoughts like that only reminded her how badly she fit into this world of luxury.
“I brought you a gift,” Isabel said, holding out a box of homemade spiced honey cake—a gesture more sentimental than valuable. It was the same cake she often made for the children at the orphanage.
Kayleigh glanced at the cake, then at Maximilian. “Oh? I think I saw this same cake in Maximilian's car,” she said, her smile sweet but barbed.
Maximilian's expression darkened, his mood shifting on a dime. He assumed Isabel had brought it on purpose—maybe to provoke Kayleigh. But Isabel hadn't known he'd ever kept her cake in his car.
“I made a batch once and left some at the office because Maximilian kept skipping breakfast,” Isabel rushed to explain, her fingers trembling with anxiety. Her depression had begun to manifest physically, worsening over time.
“I see. Maximilian must really like your cake if he took it with him,” Kayleigh remarked, her voice smooth and edged with quiet malice.
Isabel stood there awkwardly and lowered her head, desperate to avoid more misunderstanding. Maximilian would surely think she was trying to stir up trouble.
“Probably tossed them out. My assistant salvaged them for himself and left them in the car,” Maximilian replied dismissively.
Isabel's body went rigid. Trash. To Maximilian, the cake she'd painstakingly made—burning her hands in the process—was trash.
Kayleigh motioned for Isabel to follow, handing her disposable slippers while everyone else wore house slippers. The message was clear: Isabel was only temporary here.
Maximilian noticed the difference but said nothing—silently agreeing that Isabel's presence was only temporary.
“Let me introduce you to my friends,” Kayleigh announced, leading Isabel into the coffee room.
Isabel gave a quick bow. When she lifted her head, it felt like she'd plunged into an icy abyss.
Six people sat in the coffee room. Three of them were her old college classmates—the ones who had tormented her mercilessly.
Among them were Francis Wood, David Fernandez, and Lydia Jones...
Isabel's body locked up. She was trembling all over, unable to stop. She looked at Maximilian helplessly.
Maybe Kayleigh didn't know her history—but Maximilian surely did. He had known Kayleigh would invite these people, and he'd still forced Isabel to come.
Was he trying to push her past her breaking point?
