Isla's POV
I walk into the warehouse knowing it's a trap.
But I don't care anymore. I'm done being the victim. Done running. Done being afraid.
If Natasha wants to finish this, then let's finish it.
The building is dark and smells like rust and old rain. My footsteps echo on the concrete floor. My ankle still hurts from the accident, but I ignore the pain. I've gotten good at ignoring pain.
"Natasha!" My voice bounces off the empty walls. "I know you're here! I got your message!"
Silence.
Then, from somewhere in the shadows: "You actually came. I thought you'd be too scared."
Natasha steps into a shaft of light coming through a broken window. She looks perfect as always—blonde hair, designer clothes, the smile that used to be my sister's smile before it turned poisonous.
"I'm not scared of you," I lie.
"You should be." Derek appears beside her, his arm around her waist. He looks different than I remember. Harder. Meaner. "You cost us a lot of money, Isla."
"Money? What are you talking about?"
Natasha laughs. "God, you really are clueless. This was never about love. Derek never loved you. I never wanted him. This was business."
The words don't make sense. "Business?"
"Your grandfather's trust fund." Derek's smile is cruel. "Two billion dollars that becomes yours in eight months. We knew about it before anyone else did. I was supposed to marry you, get access to the money when you turned twenty-four, then divorce you and split it with Natasha."
My stomach drops. "You... you knew about the inheritance?"
"Of course we knew. Dad's lawyer told us two years ago when your grandfather died." Natasha walks closer, circling me like a predator. "The old man hated Dad. Left everything to you. But there was that stupid clause—you couldn't access it until you proved you could survive alone. No family help."
"So you destroyed me." The realization hits like a slap. "The engagement party. Getting Dad to cut me off. All of it was to make sure I'd fail the test."
"Exactly!" Natasha claps her hands. "If you failed, the money would go to charity. And we'd have nothing. But then your mother had to go and marry Richard Steele. Suddenly you had a backup plan. A new family. A way to survive."
"So you tried to kill me."
"That was just supposed to scare you. Make you run away from the Steeles. Make you too afraid to trust anyone." Derek's eyes are cold. "But you survived. You always survive. It's so annoying."
"And then you tried to frame Caspian." My mind races, pieces clicking together. "You stole his car. Hacked his phone. Made it look like he was working with you."
"That part was genius, if I say so myself." Natasha grins. "Turn you against the one family that could actually help you. Make you isolated. Desperate. Easy to manipulate."
"But I'm not easy to manipulate anymore." I take a step back. "I know what you are. I know what you've done. And the police know too. They have evidence. Video footage. Text messages."
"Evidence we'll destroy." A new voice comes from behind me.
I spin around and freeze.
My father steps out of the shadows.
James Monroe. The man who called me difficult. Who cut me off. Who blamed me for everything.
"Dad?" My voice breaks. "You're part of this?"
"I'm the architect of this." His face is cold. Empty. "That money should have been mine. My father should have left it to me. But he never forgave me for how I treated your mother. So he gave it all to you—his precious granddaughter who never even knew him."
Tears burn my eyes. "You're my father. How could you—"
"You're not my daughter. You're an obstacle." He walks toward me, and I back away. "An obstacle to two billion dollars. Money that could save my company. Money that rightfully belongs to me."
"The trust has rules. I have to survive on my own—"
"Unless you die before your twenty-fourth birthday. Then it goes to the next blood relative." His smile is terrible. "Me."
The world tilts.
They're not trying to scare me away from the money.
They're trying to kill me for it.
"You won't get away with this," I whisper. "People know I'm here. The police—"
"The police think you ran away. Your mother thinks you're having a breakdown." Natasha holds up my phone—the one I thought I'd lost. "We've been texting everyone from your number. Telling them you need space. That you're fine. By the time anyone realizes something's wrong, you'll be gone."
"And it'll look like suicide." Derek steps closer. "Poor Isla Monroe. Publicly humiliated. Cut off by her family. Nearly killed by her stepbrother. The pressure just became too much."
I look around frantically for an exit. There's the door I came through. Windows too high to reach. A staircase leading to a second floor that might collapse.
No way out.
"I called someone before I came here," I say desperately. "Told them where I was going. They'll come looking for me."
"No, you didn't." Dad pulls out a device—some kind of signal jammer. "We've been blocking your phone since you left the penthouse. You couldn't have called anyone."
My last hope dies.
I'm alone. Trapped. And nobody knows where I am.
"Any last words?" Natasha asks, pulling something from her purse.
A gun.
She's holding a gun.
"You won't shoot me," I say, but my voice shakes. "The police will know. They'll investigate—"
"They'll find a suicide note typed on your laptop. A gun purchased in your name three days ago. Gunshot residue on your hands." Derek's smile is poisonous. "We've thought of everything."
Natasha raises the gun.
This is it. This is how I die. Murdered by my own family for money I never even wanted.
But then I hear it.
A sound from the second floor. Footsteps. Fast and heavy.
Everyone looks up.
And Caspian Steele crashes through a window on the upper level, glass exploding around him, landing in a crouch between me and Natasha.
His gray eyes are wild. Furious. Deadly.
"You want to kill someone?" he growls at my family. "You'll have to go through me first."
Natasha swings the gun toward him.
And everything explodes into chaos.
Caspian lunges at Derek, tackling him to the ground. They slam into a pile of old crates, wood splintering. Dad grabs my arm, yanking me toward him. I scream and fight, kicking at his legs.
The gun fires.
The sound is deafening in the empty warehouse.
I freeze, looking down at myself, checking for blood.
But I'm not shot.
Caspian staggers backward, his hand pressed to his shoulder. Red seeps between his fingers.
"No!" I scream.
Natasha aims again, her hands shaking. "This wasn't the plan. You weren't supposed to be here—"
Police sirens wail in the distance. Getting closer.
"You called the cops?" Dad's face goes purple with rage. "You stupid girl! You ruined everything!"
"I didn't call anyone—"
"I did." Caspian's voice is strained but strong. "Before I came here. Told them about the warehouse. About the murder plot. About all of you." He looks at me, and despite the blood, despite the pain, he smiles. "You really think I'd let you walk into a trap alone?"
"You followed me," I whisper.
"I've been following you since you left the penthouse. Tracking your phone. Waiting for them to make their move." He winces. "Though getting shot wasn't part of my plan."
The sirens are right outside now.
Natasha drops the gun and runs for the back exit. Derek scrambles after her. Dad stands frozen, watching his plan collapse.
"You chose them over me," I say to him. My voice doesn't shake anymore. "Your own daughter. And you chose money."
"You were never my daughter." His words are venom. "You were just a way to get what I deserved."
The police burst through the doors, guns drawn, shouting orders.
Dad, Natasha, and Derek are tackled to the ground. Handcuffs click. Rights are read.
I stand in the middle of it all, watching my family get arrested, and I feel... nothing.
No sadness. No anger. Just empty.
Caspian collapses beside me.
"Caspian!" I drop to my knees, pressing my hands over his wound. "Stay with me. Please stay with me."
"Not going anywhere." His eyes find mine. "Had to protect you. Had to make sure you were safe."
"Why?" Tears stream down my face. "Why would you do this? You hate me. You said—"
"I lied." His hand covers mine, sticky with blood. "I lied about everything. I don't hate you, Isla. I never did."
"Then what—"
"I've been falling for you since the wedding. Since I first saw you. And it terrified me. So I pushed you away. Hurt you. Tried to make you hate me." He coughs, and more blood appears. "I'm so sorry. For everything."
Paramedics rush in, pushing me aside. They work on Caspian, talking in medical terms I don't understand.
I watch them load him onto a stretcher.
He reaches for me with his good arm. "Isla—"
"I'm here. I'm right here."
"Don't leave. Please."
"I won't. I promise."
They wheel him toward the ambulance, and I follow, ignoring the police trying to ask me questions.
Detective Chen stops me at the door. "Miss Monroe, we need your statement—"
"Later. Right now, I need to be with him."
"He saved your life."
"I know." I look at Caspian being loaded into the ambulance. "And I think I might have saved his too."
I climb in beside him, holding his hand as the sirens wail and we race toward the hospital.
His eyes close. His breathing gets shallow.
"Caspian? Stay awake. Talk to me."
His eyes flutter open. "Isla?"
"I'm here."
"There's something... need to tell you..." His words slur. "About that night... the wedding... I saw you and..."
His eyes close.
The monitor beside him starts beeping frantically.
"He's crashing!" a paramedic shouts.
And I watch helplessly as they fight to save the man who just saved me.
The man who hates me.
The man who says he's falling for me.
The man I might be falling for too.