The apartment was perfect.
Isla had spent three weeks making it theirs. Choosing furniture. Hanging art. Creating a space that felt like home instead of a showroom.
But today, she was leaving it behind.
Temporarily.
"You don't have to do this," Killian said, watching her get dressed from the bed. "You could stay here. Safe. Away from all of it."
"We've been over this." Isla selected a blouse. Professional. Elegant. Armor for what came next. "I'm not staying locked away while you run an empire. I want to be part of it."
"You are part of it."
"As your wife. I want to be part of it as your partner. In business. In everything."
Killian sat up, wincing slightly. His wounds had healed, but they still bothered him sometimes. Reminders of how close they'd come to losing everything.
"My world isn't kind to women. Especially women married to me. They'll see you as weakness. As leverage. As something to exploit."
