Isla's POV
The car ride to Manhattan is silent.
I stare out the window, watching the city blur past. People rushing to work. Tourists taking photos. Normal people living normal lives.
I'm not normal anymore.
I'm Lucas Kane's bought-and-paid-for wife. A weapon in his revenge game. A girl who sold herself to save her mother.
Stop spiraling, Lucas says without looking up from his phone.
Excuse me?
You're sitting there torturing yourself. I can practically hear you thinking. He finally looks at me. What's done is done. The contract is signed. Your mother is alive. Move forward.
Easy for you to say. You're not the one who just signed away their entire life.
No. I'm the one who spent eleven years building an empire specifically for revenge. We've both made sacrifices, Isla. Don't pretend you're the only one paying a price.
Your sacrifice was making money. Mine is becoming property.
You're not property. You're my wife.
For one year. After which you throw me away with nothing.
Lucas's jaw tightens. You'll have your mother. Alive and healthy. That was the deal.
I want to argue. Want to scream that it's not enough, that he's using me, that this whole thing is cruel and wrong.
But he's right. I made this choice. Now I have to live with it.
The car pulls up outside a building in SoHo. Expensive boutiques line the street. The kind of places I used to shop before my life fell apart.
James opens the door. Lucas gestures for me to exit first.
Inside the boutique, a woman waits. She's maybe sixty, elegantly dressed, with sharp eyes that assess me in three seconds.
Clarissa Vaughn, she introduces herself. Mr. Kane hired me to handle your wardrobe transformation.
Transformation. Like I'm some project that needs fixing.
Isla doesn't need I start.
Isla needs everything, Clarissa interrupts, circling me like a predator. Decent bone structure. Good height. But these clothes... She wrinkles her nose at my thrift store outfit. Unacceptable. When is the wedding?
Two weeks, Lucas says.
Impossible. I need at least a month to
Two weeks, Clarissa. Make it work.
She sighs dramatically. Fine. But I'm charging double for the rush job.
Done.
Just like that. Money isn't even a consideration for him.
Clarissa snaps her fingers. Three assistants appear from the back room, carrying garment bags, shoe boxes, jewelry cases.
Strip, Clarissa commands.
I freeze. What?
I need to see what I'm working with. Undergarments, measurements, everything. Strip down to your bra and underwear.
My face burns. Can we do this privately?
Clarissa looks at Lucas. He's already heading toward a leather chair in the corner, settling in with his phone.
I'll wait here, he says calmly. Don't mind me.
You're staying? My voice rises. While I undress?
We're getting married in two weeks. I'll see you in a wedding dress. This is hardly different.
It's completely different!
He finally looks up, his expression impatient. Isla. We don't have time for modesty. I have a board meeting at two. Either cooperate with Clarissa, or go back to wearing clothes from a thrift store. Your choice.
The dismissal in his tone makes me want to cry. Or throw something at his perfect face.
Instead, I turn my back to him and start unbuttoning my shirt.
Clarissa measures everything. Arms, legs, waist, hips, bust. Calls out numbers to her assistants who scribble notes.
Too thin, she mutters. We'll need to add curves. Structured jackets. Padded bras. Make her look stronger, more commanding.
I'm standing in my underwear while strangers discuss my body like I'm not even here.
This is my life now.
Try this. Clarissa hands me a dress. Emerald green silk. Beautiful and expensive.
I slip it on. It fits perfectly, hugging my body in all the right places.
Better, Clarissa says. Lucas, thoughts?
He looks up from his phone. His eyes scan me from head to toe, clinical and detached.
Fine. Add it to the order.
That's it. No compliment. No reaction. Just fine.
For the next three hours, I try on clothes. Dresses, skirts, blouses, pants, coats. Designer labels I recognize from magazines. Prices I don't even want to think about.
Clarissa selects thirty outfits. Her assistants pack them carefully while she makes notes.
Shoes next week. Jewelry the week after. Hair and makeup consultation Thursday. She hands Lucas a tablet. Total cost: two hundred forty-seven thousand dollars.
I choke. Two hundred
Approved, Lucas says, signing the screen without hesitation. Have everything delivered to the penthouse by Wednesday.
He just spent a quarter million dollars on my clothes. Like it's nothing. Like I'm worth that kind of investment.
Except I'm not worth it. The clothes are. The image he's creating. The weapon he's building to destroy my father.
I'm just the body wearing them.
We leave the boutique at 1:30 PM. My head throbs. My feet hurt from trying on a hundred pairs of heels.
Lunch, Lucas says. You haven't eaten since the bagel this morning.
I'm not hungry.
You will eat anyway. You're too thin. Clarissa is right, you need to look stronger.
Stop telling me what to do.
I'll stop when you start taking care of yourself.
James drives us to a restaurant in Midtown. The kind with white tablecloths and waiters in suits. The kind where a single entrée costs more than I used to make in a day.
Lucas orders for both of us without asking. Steak, salad, vegetables, water.
I don't like steak, I say stubbornly.
You need protein. Eat it anyway.
The food arrives. It's delicious, perfectly cooked. I hate that I'm hungry. Hate that I'm eating his expensive food in his expensive restaurant wearing clothes he bought me.
Hate that I have no choice.
Your father knows, Lucas says casually, cutting his steak.
My fork freezes halfway to my mouth. What?
I had James deliver a message this morning. Edward Thornton now knows his daughter is marrying me in two weeks.
Panic floods through me. You told him already? I thought
You thought what? That we'd keep it secret? This isn't a secret, Isla. It's a declaration of war. His eyes are cold. I want your father to know. Want him to panic. Want him to realize his daughter chose his enemy over him.
I didn't choose you. I chose my mother's life.
Same thing. He takes a sip of water. He called me three times this morning. I didn't answer. Let him sweat.
My stomach churns. What if he tries to stop the wedding?
He can't. You're twenty-six. Legally independent. He has no power over you anymore.
He has money. Lawyers. He could
He could try. He'll fail. Lucas leans forward. I've been preparing for this fight for eleven years. Your father is a shark, Isla. But I'm the ocean. And I'm going to drown him.
The viciousness in his voice makes me shiver.
This is the real Lucas Kane. Not the calm businessman. Not the generous benefactor who paid for my mother's surgery.
This is the man consumed by revenge. Who sees me as nothing more than a tool.
What happens after? I ask quietly. After you destroy him. After the year is up and we divorce. What happens to me?
You survive. Like you've been doing for the past six months.
With nothing. No money. No shares. No
You'll have your freedom. Your mother's health. A year of experience being married to a billionaire. Use it wisely.
That's not enough.
It's more than your father gave you. His voice hardens. Edward threw you away the moment you became inconvenient. Derek betrayed you. Natalie humiliated you. Your entire family treated you like garbage. And you survived all of it. You'll survive this too.
He's not wrong. But it doesn't make it hurt less.
My phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number: Isla, this is your father. Call me immediately. We need to discuss this insanity with Lucas Kane.
My hands shake holding the phone.
Another text: You're making a terrible mistake. Kane is using you for revenge. Don't be stupid. Call me.
Then a third: If you marry him, you're no longer my daughter. Choose carefully.
The words hit like physical blows.
Lucas sees my face. Let me guess. Edward's threatening you.
I show him the texts.
He reads them, his expression darkening. Then he takes my phone, types something, and hands it back.
I look at the screen. He sent a message from my number: I'm not your daughter now. You made that clear six months ago. The wedding is in two weeks. Don't bother showing up.
You can't I start.
I just did. Lucas stands, throwing cash on the table. Come on. We have one more stop.
Where?
The courthouse. To file our marriage license.
My heart stops. Already?
The clock is ticking, Isla. Two weeks until the wedding. We need the paperwork filed today.
This is really happening. In two weeks, I'll be Mrs. Lucas Kane.
Married to my enemy.
Trapped for a year.
All to save my mother's life.
James drives us to the courthouse. Inside, we fill out forms. Names, addresses, previous marriages (none for either of us), witness information.
The clerk processes everything efficiently. The license will be valid in twenty-four hours. You can marry anytime within sixty days after that.
We'll be back in two weeks, Lucas says. Friday, 10 AM.
Congratulations, the clerk says automatically, handing us the paperwork.
Congratulations. Like this is a real wedding. A real marriage. A real love story.
It's none of those things.
Outside, Lucas hands me an envelope. Your copy of the marriage license. Keep it safe.
I take it numbly. Inside is official documentation that in two weeks, I'll legally belong to Lucas Kane.
I need to go back to the hospital, I say. To see my mother.
James will take you. I have the board meeting. He checks his watch. I'll see you tomorrow morning. 9 AM. Wedding dress fitting.
I thought Clarissa said next week
I moved it up. The dress needs to be perfect. His eyes lock on mine. Everything about this wedding needs to be perfect. Because your father will be watching. The media will be watching. All of New York will be watching. And I need them to see that I won.
Won what?
Everything. He turns toward a waiting car. See you tomorrow, Isla.
He leaves. Just like that. Leaving me standing outside the courthouse with a marriage license in my hands and a future I didn't choose.
James drives me back to Mount Sinai in silence.
Mom is awake when I arrive. Groggy but smiling.
Sweetheart, she whispers. The surgery... they said it worked.
It worked perfectly. I take her hand, sitting beside her bed. You're going to be fine, Mom. Completely fine.
Because of Lucas. Tears fill her eyes. That man saved my life. I don't know how to thank him.
I think about the contract. The marriage license. The wedding in two weeks.
You don't have to thank him, Mom. Just focus on getting better.
She squeezes my hand weakly. You look different. Tired. What happened today?
Everything. My entire life changed today.
But I can't tell her that.
Just shopping, I say. Getting clothes for... for some events Lucas invited me to.
It's not technically a lie.
Mom studies my face. Isla. What aren't you telling me?
The door opens. A nurse enters with medications.
Saved by the interruption.
I should let you rest, I say, kissing Mom's forehead. I'll come back tomorrow.
Isla
I love you, Mom. Sleep now.
I escape before she can ask more questions.
Outside the hospital, James waits with the car.
Where to, Miss Thornton?
Miss Thornton. Not for much longer.
My apartment. I need to... I need to sleep.
James drives me to Queens. The contrast between Lucas's world and mine is brutal. From luxury boutiques to my falling-apart studio. From his penthouse to my radiator that doesn't work.
Two more weeks. Then I leave all this behind.
Move into Lucas's world permanently.
Become his wife.
Inside my apartment, I collapse on my bed. Pull out the marriage license.
Lucas Kane and Isla Thornton
In two weeks, that document becomes real. Legal. Binding.
I'm really doing this.
Marrying a man who hates my father more than he could ever care about me.
Signing away my freedom for one year.
All to save my mother.
My phone buzzes. Another text from my father: Last chance, Isla. Walk away from Kane and I'll help with your mother's medical bills. I'll restore your trust fund. Just call off this ridiculous wedding.
Now he offers help. Now, when it's too late.
When I've already signed the contract. Already filed the marriage license.
I type back: Where were you six months ago? Where were you when I was working three jobs and sleeping in a studio with no heat? Where were you when Mom was dying and I had nothing?
His response is immediate: You were being dramatic. I thought you'd come to your senses.
I did. I chose to survive without you. See you never, Dad.
I block his number.
Then I block Natalie's. Victoria's. Derek's.
Everyone who destroyed me six months ago.
They don't get to have opinions now.
I lie in my bed, staring at the ceiling, and make myself a promise.
I will survive this year.
I will play Lucas's perfect wife.
I will smile for the cameras and attend his galas and wear his expensive clothes.
And when the year is up, when he divorces me and throws me away—
I will still be standing.
Because I survived my father's cruelty.
I survived Derek's betrayal.
I survived six months of poverty and pain.
I can survive one year as Lucas Kane's revenge bride.
I have to.
Because my mother is alive.
And that's worth everything.