Chapter 25 You don’t get to leave me.
Isla's POV.
The late afternoon sunlight caught on the marble floor as I paused at the edge of the grand hallway, fingers tightening around the small stack of doucuments I had brought with me.
My heart kept racing from what had happened earlier.
I should have felt relived when I stepped into the mansion. But I didn’t. Relief had abandoned me long ago.
Anxiety was the only thing that ran through my veins, a reminder that nothing ever comes without a price.
I had the power now. Damian had made me a shareholder, he had given me the leverage I didn’t expect.
The board, the staffs, they all treated me differently now. Not with awe or with fear, but with acknowledgment. With recognition.
Recognition that had nothing with being Dante’s wife. Or with family ties.
And yet, the acknowledgment was a double edged sword. Every glance carried a warning. Handle it wrong and you’ll fall.
I pressed my palm to my chest, trying to slow the heart rising in my body. My hands trembled just slightly.
I didn’t want anyone to know to know why my stomach twisted like this. Why my heart had jumped the moment my phone vibrated with Josie’s name on it.
The meeting room was empty when I arrived. My father’s shadow alway felt larger when the room was empty.
No crowd to hide behind, and no withnesses to soften the blow of confrontation.
I placed the documents on the desk carefully. I didn’t want them shuffled too loudly. Every sound echoed in the quiet room.
Reminding me that I was alone.
I didn’t want Damian’s eyes on me right now. His concern…. Was comforting, yes.
Dangerous, yes. And it wasn’t something I could rely on, not yet. Not when I was the one who should make the first step.
He would have handled it easily. He would have used his power, his influence, his control, and she would have been safe immediately.
But that wasn’t what I had wanted. I needed to try it in my own way.
The door opened before I could knock. My father stepped in, his smile cruel. His eyes were sharper than a knife.
“Isla,” he said, voice smooth. “We need to talk.”
I breathed.
“About what?” I asked, keeping my tone calm and controlled.
He laughed softly. Not the warm laugh of a man enjoying something, but the kind that slides down your throat and leaves a bitter taste.
“About your sister,” he said. “Josie. You already know how the arrangements works. You know the family’s future depends on it.”
My head burned. That icy electric flash that travelled from my veins to my hands.
“I do,” she said calmly. “I was here to discuss it.”
He didn’t expect my calm expression, he frowned, and then leaned back against the edge of his desk. “You’re not supposed to argue. You’re supposed to accept. Understand your place.”
“I already understand my place ,” I said. “I just… don’t agree with it.”
The words were simple, but it carried everything I couldn’t say aloud.
He smirked. “Do you think you have the right to decide? To interfere with what I’ve planned?”
“I think I have the right to protect my sister,” I said. The words came out sharper now. My chest ached. My hands clenched. “Even if it meant going against you.”
His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. I knew he was calculating, weighing. He was always calculating.
I pushed forward. Not aggressively. Not recklessly. I layed out everything I had discovered. The timeline he had set for Josie’s marriage arrangement.
Every word was precise. Every gesture was deliberate.
“You think this will work?” He asked finally, voice low. “You’re alone, Isla. You have no one to back you up.”
I didn’t flinch. “I have enough,” I said, and for a heartbeat, I believed it.
I left the office with my chest tight but my steps firmer.
Each movement carried the weight of having confronted him without crumbling. I had done it alone, and that mattered.
The office was quiet when I returned. He looked up at me from behind the desk. The question in his eyes was clear. What happened?
I didn’t answer. Not yet. Not until I fully processed what I had done, what I had survived.
He didn’t press. He never pressed. Restraint had become part of his power, and part of why I couldn’t ignored him.
My husband appeared later, like a shadow. His presence carried coldness and pressure.
“I heard,” he said, voice low. “I could help. I could…”
“No,” I cut him off. Calm and precise. “This is mine.”
His jaw flaxed. I could see the tension, the restraint. But I didn’t give him the satisfaction of saying more words.
As the day blurred, work became a background hum. My mind kept thinking about Josie. Her voice on the phone. The panic and the urgency.
I wanted to act. Now. I wanted protect her but every step I had to carried risk, and risk carried price.
Later during a quiet moment, my phone buzzed. Another call from Josie. Her voice trembling.
“Isla… He’s already pushing too far. I don’t know how to stop him.”
I gripped the steering wheel of the car, knuckles white, my pulse racing.
“You stay put,” I said firmly. “I will handle it. I promise.”
Her sobs were quiet over the line. The city outside blurred with lights.
I hung up, exhaling slowly. My hands shook. Not from fear, but from resolve.
That night, I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t. My mind replayed every word, every gesture, every threat, and every measure I needed to take.
Damian would not know… not yet. Dante would not know… not until I allowed it.
I had already chosen to act alone. And I had.
But the cost was clear. I had stepped into a game far bigger than myself. A game that would kill me if I made a slight mistake.
The last thing I thought of before drifting into a restless, fitful sleep was:
If I failed… it wouldn’t just be me who suffered.
Josie and Iris would.
And that was something I could not allow.