\u00a0<\/p>\n
Chapter 17\u00a0<\/p>\n
A gown hanging under soft lights, silver and dark and dangerous, like it was made for a queen. My queen.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I reached for it.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Another hand grabbed it at the same time.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I snapped, \u201cLet go. I saw it first.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
The woman didn\u2019t even look at me. She tugged it closer like I was invisible. \u201cNo. I\u2019m buying it.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
My blood boiled instantly. \u201cExcuse me? Do you know who you\u2019re talking to?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
She pulled harder and I stumbled, nearly falling. My face burned with humiliation.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cYou crazy bitch!\u201d I shouted. \u201cI will sue you. I will shut this whole place down.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Slowly, painfully slow, she turned.\u00a0<\/p>\n
She lifted her sunglasses.\u00a0<\/p>\n
My world tilted.\u00a0<\/p>\n
That face.\u00a0<\/p>\n
My heart slammed so hard I thought I might choke.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cIsabella?\u201d I whispered. \u201cYou\u2019re- you\u2019re dead! I watched you die.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
She blinked at me, calm, almost bored. \u201cDead? You must be confused. My name is Nadia. And you\u2019re staring at me like I murdered your soul.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t move. My legs felt like jelly.\u00a0<\/p>\n
She smiled slightly, cold and distant. \u201cWhoever this Isabella is, you must have treated her terribly. People don\u2019t shake like this for no reason.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
She turned away, handed her card to the cashier, paid without a second glance, and walked out like the world owed her nothing and everything at the same time.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I stood there like a fool.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I ran after her, but by the time I burst outside, she was already gone.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I stumbled into my car, slammed the door, gasping like I couldn\u2019t get enough air.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I muttered, gripping the steering wheel. \u201cNo no no. Isabella is dead. That woman is dead. That was just a lookalike. Just someone with the same damn face.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
My hands were shaking but I still lifted my phone and snapped a picture.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Just in case.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I followed her car from a distance, heart pounding, eyes burning. She drove straight to\u00a0<\/p>\n
11:10 Wed, Jan 28\u00a0<\/p>\n
Za\u00a0<\/p>\n
the seaside, to a massive villa that looked like it belonged in a billionaire fantasy.\u00a0<\/p>\n
And then a man walked out.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Young. Relaxed. Smiling at her like she was the only thing that mattered. She smiled back. My nails dug into my palm. But then I laughed, sharp and relieved.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not Isabella,\u201d I told myself. \u201cIf it was her, she\u2019d be crawling back to David already. That woman lived for him. She\u2019d never be here, laughing with some random guy like she forgot her whole past.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I stared at the photo on my phone, lips curling into a slow, dangerous smile.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d I whispered. \u201cNot Isabella. Just a cheap copy.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
And copies are easy to destroy.\u00a0<\/p>\n
600\u00a0<\/p>\n
ISABELLA\u2019S POV\u00a0<\/p>\n
I saw her car the second it slipped in behind me, shiny and desperate, keeping just enough distance to pretend it wasn\u2019t stalking. Roxanne never learned subtlety. I didn\u2019t speed up. I didn\u2019t slow down. I let her follow. I even adjusted the mirror so I could watch her panic bloom, inch by inch.\u00a0<\/p>\n
My lips curved. Calm feels dangerous when you earn it.\u00a0<\/p>\n
When I pulled into the villa, I took my time. Parked clean. Stepped out slow. Let her see the gates, the guards, the way this place didn\u2019t belong to someone fragile or dead.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Ax opened the door before I reached it, barefoot, hair a mess, coffee in hand like the world had not a single problem.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cDamn,\u201d he said, eyes dragging over me. \u201cYou look lethal today. What happened, did someone from your past trip over your shadow?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I set my bag down and smiled, the kind that never reaches the eyes. \u201cI ran into a ghost.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
He leaned against the doorframe. \u201cYours or theirs?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cHers,\u201d I said lightly. \u201cShe looked like she\u2019d seen hell and realized it remembered her name.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Ax laughed, sharp and pleased. \u201cPlease tell me you didn\u2019t ruin the fun. You didn\u2019t introduce yourself, did you?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I met his gaze. \u201cI told her my name isn\u2019t Isabella.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
He blinked once. Then twice. Then he grinned like a man watching a fire spread.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, that\u2019s cold,\u201d he said. \u201cYou\u2019re finally enjoying the game.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Before I could answer, I felt it. That shift in the air. Heavy. Controlled. Familiar in a way\u00a0<\/p>\n
2\/4 66.0%\u00a0<\/p>\n
87\u00a0<\/p>\n
that still twisted something low in my chest.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Colt stepped out from the back hall.\u00a0<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t say anything. He never needed to. His eyes swept over me, slow and thorough, like he was making sure I hadn\u2019t slipped through his fingers while he wasn\u2019t looking. He passed close enough that his shoulder brushed mine, heat and smoke and danger clinging to him like a second skin.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cBack early,\u201d he said quietly.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cRan out of patience,\u201d I replied. \u201cAnd dresses.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
His mouth tilted, barely there. \u201cYou found one.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cI did,\u201d I said. \u201cAnd I think someone else found me.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
His jaw tightened just a little. Enough for me to notice. Enough for me to enjoy.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Ax leaned in, voice low and teasing. \u201cBoss was worried you\u2019d disappear on him.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I laughed under my breath. \u201cI don\u2019t run anymore. And I don\u2019t steal from the man who dragged me out of hell.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Colt\u2019s eyes lingered on me for a second longer than necessary. \u201cGood.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
From the far side of the house, I heard Ryle\u2019s tutor calling out numbers, his soft voice repeating them back, steady now, focused. He was learning again. Laughing again. Healing in ways no one else could see.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I breathed easier.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u2026\u00a0<\/p>\n
That night, a box waited on my bed. White. Clean. No name. Just a ribbon tied with military precision.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Inside was a dress that clung like a promise and a threat all at once. Simple. Sharp. Deadly.\u00a0<\/p>\n
A note rested on top, written in Colt\u2019s handwriting. Clean strokes. No wasted words. Wear this tonight.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I pressed my fingers to the fabric and smiled.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Mafia gala.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Roxanne was going to be there. And this time, I wasn\u2019t the one shaking.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u2026\u00a0<\/p>\n
By evening my glam was done, soft and lethal. Barely-there shimmer on my lids, cheeks flushed like I\u2019d just sinned and gotten away with it, lips painted a quiet rose that looked innocent until you got too close. I slid into the gown and smoothed it down my hips and for once I didn\u2019t feel watched. I felt untouchable.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Chapter 17\u00a0<\/p>\n
311 67.0%\u00a0<\/p>\n
11:10 Wed, Jan 28\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cWait, that\u2019s Dr. Caius Felipe right?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, idiot, that\u2019s Colt Blackwood.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Prepare the divorce and ruin your husband by Mark Twain 17 \u00a0 Chapter 17\u00a0 A gown hanging under soft lights, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"default","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"footnotes":""},"categories":[60],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-23548","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-his-regret-my-victory-novel"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23548","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=23548"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23548\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=23548"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=23548"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=23548"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}