Chapter 7

Ever since Isla had signed a contract with Damien, she had become familiar with a new kind of freedom. A life that was the complete opposite of the one she shared with Nate.

Back then, she had been a full-time housewife, but there had always been something to do. She would run the errands for his grandparents, do the shopping, oversee the house maintenance, and even scrub the damn floors herself.

In Damien's world, that life was nonexistent. Isla felt like a ghost in the big house with its numerous staff.

There was even a time she had attempted to cook just to remind herself of the life she once lived but one of the maids, Amelia, had stopped her with a look so grave it was as though she had attempted to commit a crime.

"Mr. Blackwood doesn't like his wife working."

It was perhaps after that particular encounter that the realization came upon her like a heavy cloak. If she stayed like this doing nothing, she would suffocate. The boredom would destroy her before the contract even ended. So she had decided: no matter what, she would find something to occupy herself.

Now, days later, she was putting the first phase of her plan into action. The glow of her laptop lit up her determined face as she drafted a business plan, researching loans, potential investors, and licensing requirements.

It was a fashion boutique, a dream she nurtured since her teenage years. For the first time in a long time, she felt truly alive.

Across town, Damien sat in his CEO's office at Blackwood Holdings. However, his attention wasn't on work; rather, It was on the large TV screen mounted on the opposite wall, playing a muted feed from the security cameras back at his mansion. Isla appeared engrossed in something on her laptop.

His been observing her like this since they got married. Over a week now, he had started to notice a change in her.

This was not the broken woman he had married or surveilled for weeks. There was this new glint in her eye now that he had yet to understand the source.

He was still thinking when the sudden ring of his phone interrupted his thoughts. And when he looked down to check the ID of the caller, it was none other than Lynn Collins, his best friend.

Damien exhales slowly before answering the phone. A moment of silence stretched between them before a smooth, playful voice laced with meaning came through the other end.

"Haha...So you finally found her?"

Damien ground his teeth but didn't answer. His grip on the phone tightened. His eyes dimmed, and across his face, a knowing shadow started to pass.

That evening, Damien returned home to find Isla asleep at the table, her face softly lit by her laptop screen.

"Workaholic?" he murmured with quiet amusement as he approached.

Tapping the keyboard, the screen brightened to reveal meticulously organized documents and financial spreadsheets - a comprehensive business plan for a fashion retail store.

So, this was what had been consuming her time. Before he could examine further, Isla stirred awake.

Blinking sleepily, she registered his presence.

Damien said nothing, he just watched her with his frame against the table.

And then, in a movement so swift and impulsive, Isla suddenly reached for Damien's briefcase, just as she had done countless times before in her former marriage with Nate.

But the moment her fingers touched the handle, her senses returned; slowly, her face met with Damien, who was still watching her with his typical amused expression.

Then he arched a brow at her. The corners of his lips twitched, and then a chuckle came out.

Isla blinked twice as her cheeks rose. Then, before she could stop herself, a laugh bubbled up from her chest.

And just like that, they both burst out laughing at the same time. The sound echoed through the vast house.

For the first time since they had started living together, the tension between them disappeared replaced by something unfamiliar and yet strangely easy.

When the laughter died down, Isla cleared her throat, suddenly feeling too self-aware and shy.

"I... I should go to bed," she muttered quickly, stepping back.

"Good night, Mr. Damien." Without waiting for a response, she hurried away before he could respond.

In her bedroom, Isla sank onto the bed, pressing her palms to her temples. That moment had felt too natural, too easy. This was supposed to be transactional - so why did her heart race remember his laughter?

The next thing that sounded was her phone, pulling her out of her thoughts.

But when she glanced at the screen knowingly thinking it was Sophia, her face rumpled when she saw the unexpected name. It was that beast, that traitor, her ex-husband.

Nate!

Her face hardened. What? Why was he calling her now?

The phone kept ringing, but she didn't answer. She wouldn't.

[3 missed calls]

Seconds later, the screen lit up again but this time, it was covered by a flood of messages from the same number.

[5 new messages]

The sender was still Nate. Her heartbeat quickened as she tapped to read them.

"So it's true. You really married him."

"We got divorced a month ago, Isla. And now you're with Damien?"

"Have you been seeing him behind my back? Were you cheating on me the whole time?"

Isla scoffed and could not help but draw a bitter smirk.

She held the phone tighter to stop herself from cursing, then she began typing a reply.

"Nate... We both know our marriage was never about love. It was practical."

But it did not last long before, another message popped up.

"I want us to see, Isla. Look, Damien isn't right for you. You'll see that soon enough. Please, let's meet."