Chapter 16: The Contract Exposed
1176 Words
Isla stopped by the Hazel Brew Coffee shop after work on the evening of Friday.
Just as she settled in waiting for her order, she suddenly noticed the squinting eyes of an elderly man a few tables away.
His white narrowed brows and parted lips hinted that he recognized her.
Isla could not help but squint back, then, realization struck them both at the same time.
"Mr…Mason?" she murmured in disbelief.
"Isla!" he echoed with a surprised grin breaking across his face.
Isla could not help but let out a short, incredulous laugh.
Mason Hart was her former boss from the Crimson Lounge, the name of the bar she had served years ago before graduate school.
“Never thought I would see you in the headlines, kid. You always kept to yourself back then.”
The old man jokes. Isla forced a smile, suppressing the discomfort that always came with mentions of her public status.
“Guess life has a twisted sense of humor.”
Coffee soon arrived, and by then Mason’s initial amusement faded slightly, replaced by something a little serious.
“You know… after you left the bar, some men came looking for you. Not the usual type. They didn’t seem drunk or dangerous, too well-dressed for that. But they were determined.”
Isla left her cup hanging mid-air, her brows lifted curiously,
“Men? When?”
“A few years ago.”
“They didn’t say much, but one of them… he had this stare. Cold.”
Isla's frown deepened. “What did they say they wanted?”
Mason let out a deep breath, shaking his head as if to say it was a question he, too, had asked before, but it was unsuccessful.
“That’s the thing they never said. Just asked about you, then left. But something tells me they weren’t done looking.”
Isla felt her chest tighten a little, her gaze shifted towards one of the windows.
Who could they have been then? And why? She had no recollection of dealing with anyone fitting that description.
When her thoughts yielded no helpful memory, she waved, and her head, offering a dismissive smile.
“Probably a case of mistaken identity.”
Mason studied her for a moment before giving a slow nod.
“Maybe.”
~~~
Minutes later, Isla bid Mason farewell before stepping out to start heading for home.
She checked her watch, mumbling under her breath when she realized how late it had gotten,
“Goodness, it's 7pm already?”
She gasped and was about to hasten her footsteps when the atmosphere around her suddenly shifted.
The weather had not changed yet there was just this coldness she could not explain.
Something was off. Before she could process it, her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw Sophie’s name on the screen.
She hummed and was just about to answer when “Boom!”
A sudden break of blinding lights hit her face with force.
“Cameras”
There were so many of them, and they were flashing without control; microphones were jutting forward. Voices were rising in simultaneous chaos.
Isla staggered back, speechless. Her heart pounded—wild, erratic, like a war drum.
“What’s going on?”
That was all she could whisper before the first clear question from the reporter cut through the noise and made her freeze on the spot.
“Mrs. Blackwood, what do you have to say about your fake marriage?”
“What?”
Her heart almost stopped.
Another journalist who seemed to be expecting her to say that suddenly pushed forward from the crowd and thrust a document toward her.
Without thinking, Isla took it, her fingers were shaking as she stared down at the papers.
The world around her was becoming faint as the document in her hands almost rendered her blind with alarm.
“The contract!”
Her marriage agreement with Damien. How did this get out? Who gave this out?
The flashes had tripled now and tens of voices were clamouring.
Isla swallowed hard, but her mouth was bone-dry, her throat tightening with dread.
Before she could gather herself, the distant roar of an engine made her jump and turn in startlement.
A sleek black car tore through the chaos, tires screeching as it halted. Silence fell like a heavy curtain; then, that well-built, unmistakable figure stepped out.
“Damien.”
He stood majestically with his gaze sweeping over the scene before landing on her.
The glow in his fiery eyes pinned her in place.
“Get in the car, Isla.”
The command in his tone was unquestionable. Isla's lips parted but closed again.
Even though she felt as weak as a withered branch, she forced herself to move, slipping into the car without protest.
The door shut behind her as silence returned between them, but when they started to drive off, inside, her head returned to utter chaos.
“What in God's name is going on?”
Moments later, back at the mansion, Damien was now standing by the bar, his back stiff as he poured himself a drink.
Unlike other times when he would pour with a flourish, the swiftness of his hands showed that he was fighting something inside; Isla could sense his blood boiling.
Meanwhile, she lingered a few feet away, her arms wrapped around herself,
Her breath was shallow as she was still looking dazed.
Then, without turning to face her, Damien finally spoke, "Who leaked this?"
Isla blinked twice at the quiet menace in his tone. The threatening harshness.
Her lips parted but still could not form words. She genuinely didn’t know.
She had been hoping that he did. But instead, he was interrogating her.
So even he did not know?
Jesus, even the edge in his tone was sending her heart into a more frenzied rhythm.
Who could have done it then?
Damien exhaled sharply, holding his glass tighter as if to crush it.
A muscle in his jaw appeared to be ticking.
"There are only a handful of people who have access to this contract."
He continued with the same deadly tone.
Isla felt her knees losing their blood as she watched him because, for the first time, she was seeing it.
Not the man she had come to know as the typical composed businessman who played the world like a grandmaster. Not even the calculated strategist with his dangerous precision and effortless power.
No, now she was staring at that part of him that made people pee on themselves with fear.
The mask of the refined billionaire was gone, peeled away to reveal something primal, a beast with black holes in his heart.
That force of nature that never bowed to rules, only retribution.
It was the mask of the devil himself.
Damien turned, slow and deliberate. His gaze—dark, bloodshot—locked onto hers, and Isla felt her body turn to ice.
"Whoever did this…"
He paused, to drop his voice lower, colder, scarier. "I just hope they’re ready to burn."
- Writer
