His Brother's Bride

chapter nine

Adrian Calloway was everything the world worshipped. The youngest CEO of Calloway Enterprises, a face gracing every business magazine with headlines that screamed success, charm, and control. His life was wrapped in luxury—an empire built on clean lines, flawless suits, and meticulous perfection. He walked into rooms and people stilled. He spoke and the air bent to listen.

But beneath the polish, Adrian lived like a man cornered by shadows. He was haunted by a hunger for control, for legacy, for keeping the family name untarnished. And perhaps, that was why he chose Isla.

She was poised. Dutiful. Beautiful in that tragic, effortless way that made her the perfect complement to his image. To the outside world, she was the crown jewel in his carefully constructed life.

Yet, he could feel her slipping.

The morning after the governor’s reception, Adrian stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his study, fingers drumming lightly against the glass. He wore a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, his jaw sharp with tension. Behind him, silence stretched like a blade.

He didn’t need to turn. He felt her—like a shift in the air. “You didn’t sleep here,” he said, voice calm but low.

At the threshold, Isla crossed her arms, shielding herself. “You didn’t either.”

He turned slowly, his eyes colder than usual, mouth set in that expression she had come to know. Calculated. Controlled. “You’re making this difficult.”

“And you’re pretending this is easy,” she replied, exhaustion in every word. Not from the night—no, from the weight of it all. From pretending.

Adrian stepped forward, but not close enough to touch her. “Your family expects this union. Our families do.”

That word—union.

She almost laughed. Almost. “So we’re just going to keep calling it that?”

“It’s what it is, Isla. You and I. We are not like them,” he said, his tone a notch too sharp.

She tilted her head. “Who’s them, Adrian? People who choose love?”

He looked at her as if she’d spoken in a foreign language. “Love doesn’t survive in our world. Power does. Legacy does. My mother reminded me of that this morning.”

“Your mother doesn’t know me,” Isla said, voice tight.

That was even an understatement. The woman barely tolerated her nor did she like Isla. Left for her, she would have chosen another woman as Adrian's wife to be.

But woman never had a say in anything in their world.

“She knows what you’re capable of. And she thinks you’re slipping too,” Adrian countered.

Isla swallowed the sting of that. She had slept in the guest suite at the far wing of the estate, and yet her every movement was known. Tracked.

Adrian stepped closer. “Don’t ruin this because you’re chasing something that doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Something?” she whispered. “That ‘something’ has a name.”

His jaw clenched. “Whatever that is... Just know that it is a distraction. One you can’t afford.”

“You mean you can’t afford,” she corrected and then without another word, turned on her heel.

---

Hours later, a message came. A quiet summons to the east wing which happened to be her family’s suite.

Isla sighed warily as soon as the message was relayed to her. She had been avoiding her parents since last night but it seemed she can't run nor hide anymore now.

Isla’s heels clicked against the polished floors as she approached the door leading to the suite, her heart a strange mix of dread and fatigue. When she entered, the room smelled faintly of jasmine and power, and her mother was sitting in an armchair, pearls perfectly placed, her posture queenlike.

Beatrice Ravenwood had always been the embodiment of elegance and pressure, wrapped in cream silk and expectations.

“You’ve been distracted,” she said without looking up from the silver tray of tea.

“No preamble then?” Isla replied as she stepped in fully into the room.

Her mother raised an elegant brow. “The engagement is weeks away. The Holloways are watching. The public is watching. Adrian’s mother called me.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” her mother said, setting down the teacup with a decisive clink. “Because the media doesn’t. The stories—they’re already turning. You’re making whispers into rumors. Cassian’s name is in your mouth too often.”

Isla's jaw clenched but she didn't say anything yet. “He’s Adrian’s brother. It's unavoidable,” she finally forced out at the last moment.

Her mother’s eyes snapped to hers. “He’s dangerous. That name carries scandal. You know that.”

Isla tried not to flinch. “Then maybe scandal is what I need,” she muttered without even blinking.

The slap of her mother’s palm against the table was sharp, jarring that nearly knocked Isla off her feet.

“This isn’t about your needs. This is about survival, Isla. Your father built everything with blood. You don’t get to burn it down because you're feeling sentimental.”

The words struck like lashes.

Sentimental. As if pain was performance. As if longing was rebellion.

Isla straightened. “I haven’t forgotten what he built. But I remember what he broke to build it.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t test me. You think Adrian will tolerate this forever? He’ll replace you with someone who will behave. Someone like Victoria. You’re lucky he hasn’t already.”

That stung more than Isla wanted to admit.

But she didn’t cry. She never cried in front of her mother.

“I’ll be ready for the engagement,” she said, standing.

“You’d better be,” her mother replied coolly. “This family doesn’t survive second chances.”

Isla walked out of the suite, spine straight even though everything inside her felt like splinters. Her feet carried her through the endless hallways until she found herself at the edge of the gardens, where the manicured hedges couldn’t hide the choking silence.

She sat beneath a stone archway, trying to breathe through the storm inside her. Her hands trembled as she pulled her phone from her coat pocket, more from hope than expectation.

Maybe… maybe he’d texted.

Cassian.

But it wasn’t his name on the screen.

Just a location pin.

Two words:

Come alone.

And beneath it, the time: 11:45 PM.

The message had no signature. No explanation.

Just enough to unravel the quiet she had fought so hard to keep.

She stared at the message, heart pounding. Her reflection shimmered in the phone screen—a girl pulled between glass walls and secrets, between two brothers, between duty and desire.

She stood, phone clutched tight, and turned toward the estate.