Caspian's POV
I chase her through the parking garage.
My dress shoes echo on the concrete. She's moving fast, almost running, her wet dress clinging to her legs as she searches for a car that probably isn't here.
"Isla!" My voice bounces off the walls. "Stop!"
She doesn't stop. Doesn't even slow down.
I catch up to her near the elevator, grabbing her arm before she can press the button.
She spins around, jerking away from my touch. "Don't. Touch. Me."
The hatred in her eyes makes my chest tight.
"I need to talk to you—"
"You already talked. Remember? You called me a gold-digger. Said I was desperate and pathetic." Tears stream down her face, but her voice is pure steel. "You don't get to say more. You're done."
"I was wrong—"
"I don't care." She jabs the elevator button over and over. "Leave me alone."
"My investigator just called. He told me about your grandfather. About the trust fund. About—"
Her hand flies up so fast I barely see it coming.
The slap cracks across my face like a gunshot.
My head snaps to the side. My cheek burns. For a second, I'm too shocked to move.
"You investigated me?" Her voice shakes with rage. "You had someone dig into my life? My private information? My family?"
"I needed to protect my father—"
"From what? From me? I'm not a threat! I'm just a girl who's had the worst year of her life!" She's yelling now, and I deserve every word. "My fiancé left me for my sister in front of three hundred people! My father disowned me! I lost everything! And you—you—"
She can't finish. The tears are coming too hard now.
I stand there like an idiot, my face stinging, watching her fall apart.
This is my fault. All of it.
"Isla—"
"No." She holds up her hand. "Don't say my name. Don't apologize. Don't do anything. Just leave me alone."
The elevator dings. The doors slide open.
She steps inside and hits a button. Our eyes meet for one second before the doors close between us.
And I see it. The exact moment she decides I'm her enemy forever.
I find Liam at the bar, drowning his third whiskey.
He takes one look at my face and whistles. "That's a nice handprint. Let me guess—Isla?"
I don't answer. Just signal the bartender for the strongest thing they have.
"What did you do?" Liam asks.
"I told her she was a gold-digger. Called her desperate. Said she was invading my home." The words taste like poison. "Then I chased her down to tell her I was wrong because my investigator found out she's actually a secret heiress worth two billion dollars."
Liam chokes on his drink. "You what?"
"Her grandfather left her everything. There's a trust. She can't access it until she's twenty-four, which is in eight months. She has to prove she can survive on her own first." I down the whiskey the bartender slides over. It burns, but not enough. "She's not a gold-digger. She's richer than my entire family."
"And you called her a gold-digger anyway."
"I didn't know!"
"Did you ask? Did you give her a chance to explain herself? Or did you just assume the worst because you're so busy protecting your father that you forgot to be a decent human being?"
The accusation stings worse than the slap.
"I was trying to help—"
"You were trying to control." Liam's voice is hard. "You always do this, Cas. You see a problem, and you attack it. You don't think. You don't feel. You just destroy first and ask questions later."
"That's not fair—"
"It's completely fair. You destroyed that girl tonight. You saw someone who was already broken, and you broke her more. Why? Because you were scared your father might get hurt?" Liam shakes his head. "Well congratulations. You just made an enemy out of the woman who's about to live in your house for the next eight months. Hope you're proud of yourself."
I'm not proud. I feel sick.
"I need to fix this," I say.
"Good luck with that. She looked ready to murder you."
"I'll apologize. I'll explain. I'll—"
"You'll what? Tell her you're sorry for invading her privacy and judging her without knowing anything real about her? Tell her you're sorry for kicking her when she was already down?" Liam stands up. "Some things can't be fixed with words, Caspian. Some damage is permanent."
He walks away, leaving me alone with my guilt and an empty glass.
I don't go back to the reception. Can't face my father's happiness. Can't pretend everything is fine.
Instead, I sit in my car in the parking garage and stare at my phone.
The investigator sent me Isla's full file. Everything about her life. Her childhood. Her engagement. Her father's cruelty. The memes. The online harassment. The three jobs she's working just to eat.
And the photos.
God, the photos.
Her at the engagement party, face frozen in shock. Her running from the hotel, crying. Her working at the coffee shop, exhausted and hollow-eyed. Her on the subway, staring at nothing.
Every image shows a woman who's been destroyed and is barely holding on.
And I just made it worse.
My phone rings. Dad's name flashes on the screen.
I consider not answering. But that's cowardly, and I'm already enough of a coward tonight.
"Hello?"
"Caspian." Dad's voice is tight. Controlled. Angry. "Victoria just told me what you said to Isla. What you called her. How you treated her."
My stomach drops. "Dad, I can explain—"
"No. You listen." I've never heard him this furious. "That girl has been through hell. Absolute hell. And you—my son, who I raised to be better than this—you added to it. You made her feel small and worthless and unwanted."
"I didn't know—"
"You didn't ask! You didn't try to know her! You just assumed and attacked!" He's yelling now. "She's Victoria's daughter. She's about to be family. And you treated her like garbage."
"I was protecting you—"
"I don't need protection! I need my son to be a good man! To treat people with kindness and respect! Especially people who are suffering!" He takes a shaky breath. "Isla called Victoria from a subway station. She's not coming to live with us. She said she'd rather sleep on the streets than live under the same roof as you."
The words hit like a punch to the gut.
"Dad, I'll fix this—"
"How? How will you fix making someone feel like they're not worthy of basic human decency?" His voice cracks. "I'm disappointed in you, Caspian. More disappointed than I've ever been."
He hangs up.
I sit in the dark car, my father's words echoing in my head.
I ruined everything. Hurt someone who didn't deserve it. Made an enemy out of someone who was supposed to be family.
And the worst part?
I can't stop thinking about her eyes. Those green eyes full of pain and rage and something else. Something that looked almost like hope before I crushed it.
My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number: Congratulations. You just did exactly what I needed you to do. Isla won't trust the Steeles now. Phase one complete.
Ice floods my veins.
Natasha. Isla's sister.
I scroll up and see a thread of messages I don't remember getting. Messages about Isla. About her moving in. About how to "handle the situation."
But I never responded to these. Never even saw them until now.
Someone had access to my phone. Someone texted Natasha from my number.
And Natasha—she's been planning this. Using me.
I call the investigator back. "I need you to track something. Find out who's been accessing my phone. Find out what Natasha Monroe is planning. And find out—"
A photo message comes through. It's Isla, walking alone on a dark street. Taken minutes ago.
Another text from Natasha: She looks so vulnerable all alone like that. Would be a shame if something happened to her. Tell your father the wedding was a mistake. Make him divorce my mother. Or Isla pays the price.
My blood turns to ice.
This isn't about the wedding. It's about hurting Isla.
And I just helped Natasha do it.
I start the car and peel out of the parking garage, trying to remember which subway station Dad mentioned.
My phone rings. Unknown number.
I answer. "What?"
"Mr. Steele." A man's voice. Professional. Cold. "This is Detective Marcus Chen. I'm calling about Isla Monroe. She's been in an accident."