IN HIS EYES

CHAPTER FOUR

The train rattled toward the far side of the city, Isla pressed her fingers against her temple and exhaled shakily. It was just a job. Just a damn job. One she desperately needed. But fate—cruel and twisted—had handed her the very man who had shattered her world.

She hadn’t expected him to recognize her. Not after five years, and not after the life she’d built on a name that wasn’t hers. But he had. Of course he had.

The taxi ride from the station to her apartment was a blur. When she finally unlocked her door, the warmth of home wrapped around her like a balm. The smell of fresh linen and children’s soap lingered in the air. Lights were low, cartoons murmuring softly from the TV.

“Mommy?”

The soft voice reached her from the hallway. Eli padded into view, rubbing his eyes, dragging his favorite plush rabbit behind him. His curls were tousled, cheeks flushed with sleep.

Her heart clenched.

“Hey, baby,” she whispered, kneeling down to scoop him into her arms. “What are you doing up?”

“I waited for you,” he mumbled against her neck. “You promised to read tonight.”

Guilt twisted in her chest. “I’m sorry. Let’s go to bed now, okay?”

He nodded, heavy with sleep, and she carried him into his small room. It was filled with the chaos of childhood—books, Legos, paper drawings taped to the walls. She tucked him in gently and sat on the edge of his bed.

“Tell me a story,” he murmured.

She hesitated. But something about tonight demanded one.

“Alright,” she whispered. “Once upon a time, there was a girl named Amelia…”

She paused, letting the name settle like dust in her throat. Eli blinked sleepily up at her.

“She was a dreamer,” Isla continued. “She believed in fairy tales. In love. In… happy endings.”

A beat passed.

“She met a boy with eyes like storms. Everyone warned her not to trust him. He was trouble. Fire in a suit. But she fell anyway.”

She looked away, her voice catching.

“He made her feel seen for the first time. Like maybe… she wasn’t just a girl from nowhere. They laughed. They fought. They kissed under stars. And when she was about to tell him about his child

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“He left.”

Eli’s small hand found hers.

“Did she cry?”

“Every night,” Isla said honestly, brushing a hand through his curls.

“But… she had you. And you were the light that saved her from the dark.”

He smiled faintly, eyes drifting closed.

“She sounds like you.”

“She is me,” she whispered.

A few minutes later, Eli was asleep. Isla sat in silence, staring at the stars taped above his bed. Her chest ached. Roman hadn’t changed. The intensity in his eyes still burned, but there was suspicion now. Guilt, maybe. Or confusion. He’d never believed her.

He never even let her explain.

She rose and walked to the living room, wrapping a cardigan over her arms. Outside, the city pulsed beneath the rain. She remembered that last fight as if it were yesterday—the venom in his voice, the betrayal in his eyes. Someone had fed him lies, and instead of coming to her, he vanished. Just like that.

And now… fate had placed her back in his path.

But this time, she wasn’t the girl with stars in her eyes.

She was a mother with everything to lose.

And Roman Creed would never—never—know that Eli was his son.

FLASHBACK

It had all started six years ago.

She had just turned twenty-two. Back then, she wasn’t Isla,She was Amelia Hart — naïve, stubborn, and desperate.

She’d moved to the city with nothing but a suitcase, a phone on five percent battery, and a half-paid lease on a shoebox apartment with a cracked ceiling. Her mother had just passed away, and her scholarship had vanished with her distraction and declining grades.

She needed a job. Any job.

The listing came from a university bulletin board. “Executive Assistant. Confidential. High Pay. Discretion Required.”

She almost didn’t apply.

The man who interviewed her wore an expression so unreadable, it was like staring into stone. Polished shoes. A suit that looked like it cost more than her rent. His voice was clipped. Efficient.

“Name?” he asked.

“Amelia Hart.”

He looked up briefly. His eyes were Ice blue — cool and sharp. She swallowed.

“Experience?”

“None, really. I worked part-time in admin during college. And at a bookstore. And I’m very organized.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. Barely.

“You do realize this is a high-pressure position, Miss Hart. I need someone who can handle long hours, constant travel, intense confidentiality, and my schedule — which isn’t exactly forgiving.”

“I can do that,” she said, even though she had no idea if she could.

He looked at her, long and slow, as if measuring something she couldn’t see.

“You start Monday.”

She blinked. “Wait… I got the job?”

Roman Creed stood, closed the folder, and said, “I don’t offer things twice.”

He was intense. That was the first thing she noticed. Roman Creed didn’t speak unless necessary. He didn’t smile. He didn’t explain.

But somehow, she learned to read him — the tension in his jaw when meetings dragged, the shift in his tone when he was irritated, the way his fingers tapped rhythmically when deep in thought.

He learned her too.

She caught his glances when he thought she wasn’t looking. The way he lingered in doorways longer than needed. The way he knew when she hadn’t eaten. Brought her coffee without asking.

But there was a wall. Always a wall.

Until the night it cracked.

It was after a charity gala. She wasn’t supposed to be there, but his usual assistant had bailed, and he hated being blindsided.

“You’ll need a dress,” he’d said without looking at her.

“I can’t afford—”

He tossed a black Amari box onto her desk.

“Now you can.”

She wore it. It fit like a second skin. And when she walked down the stairs of that marble ballroom, his gaze collided with hers like the crash of a wave meeting rock.

He didn’t touch her that night. But everything changed afterward.

The next week, he called her into his office late — papers scattered, tie undone, hair raked back like he’d fought a war with himself and lost.

“I should fire you,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I’m not supposed to look at you the way I do.”

She stepped closer.

“Then stop looking.”

But he didn’t.

And when he kissed her, it wasn’t sweet or slow. It was hungry, like he’d waited too long.

------

Isla sat beside Eli’s bed, the ache swelling in her chest.

That was the beginning. The moment everything shifted.

The love, the lies, the secrets… and eventually, the betrayal.

He had touched her like she meant everything — and left her like she meant nothing.

And now, here they were again.

Full circle.

But this time, she wouldn’t fall.

Not again.

Not when her son’s life was woven into the cost.