Isla's POV
The night my children almost burned alive, it wasn't an accident.
It was Sofia Carlucci-my husband's cousin. The orphan he raised like a sister.
Flames roared through the nursery wing. Smoke clawed down the hallway as I fought my way inside, choking on the heat.
My son was screaming, trapped behind a fallen beam. My daughter was coughing weakly in her bed, her tiny body curled like a ball of ash.
I dragged them both out with blistered hands, skin raw from the fire's bite. By the time the firefighters arrived, the ceiling had collapsed. The nursery was gone.
At the hospital, doctors pumped oxygen into my children's lungs. My daughter would recover. My son’s skin bore burns he’d never outgrow.
When the investigation report landed on my desk the next day, the truth nearly split me in half.
Sofia had slipped out of the house minutes before the fire began. The security cameras caught her.
I brought the report to Javier. My hands shook as I threw it in front of him.
"She did this. Sofia set the fire on my three year olds!."
He didn't even flinch. He only lit a cigar, the smoke curling around his unreadable eyes.
"She panicked," he said. "She was drunk. It was a mistake."
My throat scorched. "A mistake? She nearly killed our children and deserves prison!"
"She lost her entire family in a plane crash," he replied calmly. "I promised my uncle I would take care of her. I won't send her to prison."
"Javier!" My voice cracked. "Look at our son’s burns! Look at his face! He’ll carry these scars forever because of your precious cousin you protect like a queen!"
His gaze hardened. “Enough. Drop it, Isla.”
“No,” I spat, trembling. “I already pressed charges. I won’t stop until she pays.”
The silence that followed was worse than shouting. His eyes went flat, cold, and I knew then—he wasn’t shocked. He was waiting for this.
“You left me no choice,” he said, pulling out his phone. A single tap. Within minutes, a breaking headline flashed across the television mounted on the wall.
CEO’s Wife’s Recklessness Nearly Kills Children—Sources Say Isla Started A Fire.
Photos of me outside the house scrolled across the screen, my hair singed, my hands shaking.
I froze. “What… what did you do?”
Javier’s lips curled, satisfaction dark in his eyes. “I told the world you left candles burning. That you were careless. Unstable. Public opinion already agrees with me.”
The blood drained from my face. “You… you painted me as a monster?”
He exhaled smoke, slow and deliberate. "If you keep pushing this, I'll petition for custody. You'll lose the children in court before you can blink. And don't forget about your mother's foundation."
My chest seized. "No—"
"Donors are already calling me," he cut in smoothly.
"They don't want your name tied to theirs. Drop this, Isla, or the board will vote you out by morning."
It hit me like ice water. He knew exactly where to cut deepest. My children—and my mother’s legacy.
After her death, I had poured everything into that foundation. Building scholarships, shelters, food drives. I had promised her it would live on.
And the bitter twist? It was my mother’s board that voted to save Javier’s company when it was circling bankruptcy.
And now he was using it as a knife against me.
“I can still repair your reputation,” he added silkily. “I’ll call a press conference. Say it was rumors, exaggeration by the media. But only if you drop this nonsense about Sofía.”
I couldn’t ruin my mother’s life work. Or risk losing my children.
Not after dragging them out of the fire myself.
Hot tears stung my eyes. "Fine," I whispered.
"I would drop it."
Relief flickered in his expression. He reached for my hand, almost tender.
“I knew you’d understand,” he said softly. “When this blows over, we’ll celebrate. We’ll rebuild the nursery.
We’ll be a family again.”
Family.
The word was ashes in my mouth.
He smirked, kissed my temple as if I were a fragile child, and then strode out.
Only when the door shut behind him did I crumble. Silent. Empty.
Nurses passed by, whispering as if I couldn't hear. I didn't. Not really. My body was already somewhere else, moving like a ghost.
By the time I reached home, I was on autopilot. Step after step, hollow and numb, until I found myself in my bedroom.
My fingers dug past silk and lace until they struck wood. A hollow space. An envelope yellowed with time.
My mother’s last gift.
Inside lay the deed to a villa in Madrid, tied to an offshore account Javier knew nothing about. A lifeline I had never dared to touch—until now.
I clutched the deed so hard it almost tore. This was how I would break free. This was how I would take my children and run.
My hands shook as I pulled out my phone and dialed the only person I could trust— Claire, the attorney that had been by my mother’s side.
She answered on the second ring. "Isla?"
I swallowed hard. "I want to file for divorce.
Immediately. And I need help selling a property-quietly."
Silence. Then a sharp intake of breath. "If you're serious, you need to move fast. I’d be able to prepare the papers—three days, minimum. As for the villa, I have trusted contacts in Spain. I can liquidate it in the same time frame."
A bitter smile curved my lips.
Three days. By the end of it, I’ll show Javier and Sofia what fire feels like!
