His Brother's Bride

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Rain threatened from the grey sky as Isla stared at the location on her phone screen, heart drumming a warning she didn’t want to hear. It wasn’t far—a small café tucked behind the old theatre district—but it felt like a different world.

Lilian paced in front of her, arms flailing with frustration. "You can’t be serious, Isla. A nameless message? 'Come alone'? Do you hear how that sounds?"

Isla didn’t even flinch, her grip on the phone steady. "I’m going."

"You’re not some character in a mystery novel! This is real life. Real danger. Adrian will lose his mind if he finds out."

A wry smile tugged at Isla’s lips. ‘Then maybe he shouldn’t be keeping so many secrets.’ she thought to herself as her mind briefly flashed to the sealed off servant quarters.

The message didn't tell her that the meeting would be about Adrian but somewhere deep inside her, Isla had a feeling that it would be about him.

Lilian stopped pacing, her voice gentler now. "Look, I know you're spiraling. But if this is about Cassian—"

"It’s not," Isla cut in sharply, then paused, softening. "It’s about me. And needing to know the truth before I marry someone I barely recognize."

Lilian opened her mouth to argue again, then shut it, defeated. "Just... be careful. Call me if anything feels off."

Isla smiled warmly at her best friend and then reached out and enveloped her in a tight hug. “I will be fine, I promise.”

Lilian sighed and then pushed away from the hug. “I know," she muttered. “But I am your best friend, if I don't worry about you nobody else would.”

Isla didn't respond. She didn't have to because somehow it was true.

*****

Minutes later, she was in the back of a black car, her driver instructed to stay a block away. The location pinned on her phone led her to an old cafe—closed to the public, the lights off, the entrance guarded by silence.

Isla stepped in, her heels echoing too loudly. Her eyes scanned the room and finally landed on a woman who sat by the window.

She looked vaguely familiar—elegant in a black coat, chin tilted, lips painted a precise shade of crimson. Her features were sharp, the kind of beauty preserved through silence and secrets.

She didn’t smile when Isla approached.

"You came," the woman said, voice smooth like polished steel. She tilted her head to the side, slight amusement glinting in her eyes. “Never thought you would come.”

Isla sat cautiously. "Who are you?" She asked.

The woman folded her gloved hands over the table. "No one important,” she replied with a nonchalant shrug. “At least, not anymore. But I used to run in circles where men like Adrian Calloway were gods."

A chill crept down Isla’s spine. "You messaged me?"

The woman leaned forward, a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. "What do you think? And, oh yes, Congratulations on your engagement. The pictures are lovely, you play the part beautifully."

Isla's eyes narrowed. This woman knew things about her."I'm sure you didn’t bring me here to compliment my acting skills."

The woman smiled—cold, amused. "No. I brought you here to ask you a question.” she leaned back in her seat and just gazed at her. “What do you really know about your husband-to-be?"

Isla’s stomach twisted. "Enough."

The woman arched a brow. "Is that what you tell yourself at night, when he looks at you like a possession he hasn’t quite broken in yet?"

The accusation landed like a slap. Isla recoiled, her eyes narrowing even more. "Who are you?"

The woman reached into her coat and pulled out a small envelope, sliding it across the table. "Inside are names. One in particular you should start with—Marla Devine."

The name meant nothing to Isla so she just frowned.

"She used to be someone, too," the woman added. "Until she got too close. Ask Adrian about her. See what he says."

"Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn’t. But you should trust your gut—and it’s already screaming at you, isn’t it?"

Isla stared at the envelope, her fingers twitching.

The woman stood, pulling on her gloves. "Good luck, Isla. Some cages are gilded. Others are just locked from the inside."

By the time Isla looked up again, the woman was gone like she was never there.

****

Back at the Calloway estate, Julian, Adrian’s younger cousin and personal enforcer stood just inside Adrian’s study, hands folded neatly behind his back.

"She left the estate an hour ago. Took only her phone and a scarf," he informed Adrian.

Adrian didn’t look up from the documents he was reviewing. "Where?"

"A café off Holden Street. She met with someone."

That made Adrian pause and he raised his head slowly. "Who?"

"We don’t know yet. Security footage was... inconclusive. The woman arrived earlier, left a few minutes after Isla," Julian finally said after some moments of hesitation.

Adrian stood, the leather of his chair creaking behind him. "Get me her face. Run it through the system. I want to know who she is, who she works for, and what the hell she told Isla."

Julian nodded. "And Isla?"

Adrian’s jaw clenched and then he slowly stuck his hands into his pockets. "Track her. Discreetly. If she’s digging, I want to know what she finds before she does."

He walked to the window, staring out at the sprawling estate grounds.

He could feel it—the ground shifting. Isla, slipping through his fingers like water.

He had built everything. Controlled everything. And he would not lose it to ghosts of the past.

Behind him, Julian’s phone buzzed. A text. One image.

He frowned. “Adrian," he called his attention. “You might want to see this.”

Adrian looked back and then down at the phone in his hand. Without a word, he took the phone.

It was the face of the woman Isla met.

Adrian’s expression didn’t change. But something in his eyes flickered.

Recognition. And then something akin to fear.