The Forbidden Game

The Truth

Isabella

I stood outside Cole's apartment building, my hand hovering over the doorbell.

I had been standing there for what felt like an eternity, replaying the events of the past twenty-four hours in my head. The gala. The dance. Mia's warning. Cole's silence when I asked if he was like his father.

I didn't know what I was walking into.

But I knew I had to know the truth.

I pressed the doorbell.

The door swung open, and there he was.

Cole stood in the doorway, still wearing his work clothes but with his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up. He looked tired. Vulnerable. Like he hadn't slept either.

"You came," he said.

"I told you I would."

"I know. But I didn't expect you to."

I stepped past him into the apartment. It was the same as before—cold, minimal, carefully controlled. But tonight, it felt different. Tonight, it felt like a confessional.

"So," I said, turning to face him. "Talk."

He let out a breath, ran a hand through his hair, and nodded.

"Sit down," he said. "This is going to take a while."

I sat on the couch. He sat across from me.

For a long moment, he didn't speak. He just stared at his hands, like he was searching for the right words. I watched him struggle, watched the walls he'd built so carefully begin to crack.

"Like I told you before," he began, "I grew up with nothing. My father built his empire from the ground up. But he didn't build it honestly. He destroyed people along the way. Ruined lives. Took everything from families who trusted him."

I stayed silent, letting him speak.

"I wanted nothing to do with it. I walked away when I was eighteen. I built my own career from scratch. I told myself I was different. That I wasn't him."

"But?"

He looked at me. "But when I came to your company, I wasn't just a new VP. I was hired to investigate. To find evidence of corruption. Your company was on a list of targets. Your father was on a list of people who had done business with mine."

I felt the air leave my lungs. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I was sent to find something. Anything. To expose your father and bring the whole thing down."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I had suspected something, but hearing it out loud made it real. Made it hurt.

"You were using me," I said. "From the very beginning."

"No." His voice was firm, almost desperate. "At first, yes. The blackmail was real. The fake relationship was real. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about the investigation."

I shook my head. "Then what was it about?"

He met my eyes, his gaze steady and raw. "You. It's always been about you, Isabella."

I wanted to believe him. I really did.

But Mia's warning was still fresh in my mind. I could still hear her voice, sharp and certain: "Whatever Cole has told you about himself… it's not the whole story."

"Mia said you're not who you claim to be," I said quietly.

Cole exhaled slowly. "Mia is angry. She worked for my father. She saw the worst of it. And she blames me for not stopping him."

"Did you try?"

He was silent for a long moment. I watched his jaw tighten, his hands clench into fists.

Then: "I tried. But I was young. I was scared. I didn't know how to fight him. He was everything to me—and I was terrified of becoming him."

"Cole—"

"I'm not making excuses." He stood up abruptly, walking toward the window. "I should have done more. I should have stopped him. But I didn't. I ran. I built my own life and pretended the past didn't exist."

"Until now."

He turned to face me. "Until you."

The room was still. The air between us felt thick, heavy with everything unspoken.

I stood up and walked toward him. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you asked me to. Because you deserve to know the truth. Because..." He paused, his voice dropping. "Because I'm tired of pretending. Tired of hiding. I'm not like my father. I've spent my whole life running from that fear. But maybe the only way to prove I'm not him is to stop running."

I stared at him. In the dim light of his apartment, he looked younger. More vulnerable. Less like the ruthless man who had blackmailed me and more like someone who had been running for so long he'd forgotten how to stop.

"Are you?" I asked again, my voice barely above a whisper. "Like him?"

"No." His voice was steady. Certain. "I'm not him."

I wanted to believe him.

And maybe, for the first time, I did.

---

I left his apartment an hour later.

The night air hit my face, cold and sharp, but I barely felt it. My mind was still spinning, replaying everything he'd said. I wanted to trust him. I wanted to believe that he was different.

But Mia's card was still in my pocket.

I didn't go home. I stood outside his building, the cold air biting at my skin, and pulled Mia's card out of my pocket.

One call.

One question.

One truth that could change everything.

I stared at the number. My thumb hovered over the screen.

I thought about Cole. About the way he'd looked at me when he said, "It's always been about you."

I thought about Mia. About the way she'd warned me: "Whatever Cole has told you about himself… it's not the whole story."

I didn't know who was telling the truth.

But I had to find out.

I dialed the number before I could change my mind.

The phone rang once.

Twice.

Then a voice I didn't recognize answered.

"You called."