Isla's POV
The champagne glass slipped from my fingers.
I didn't hear it shatter. The room was too loud—three hundred people laughing, talking, celebrating. Celebrating me. Celebrating my engagement to Marcus Wellington, the man every woman in Manhattan wanted.
But I heard what Marcus said next. Everyone did.
"I can't do this anymore."
The microphone made his voice boom across the ballroom. The music stopped. Conversations died mid-sentence. Three hundred heads turned toward the stage where Marcus stood, spotlight shining on his perfect face.
My feet wouldn't move. I stood frozen in the middle of the dance floor in my silver engagement dress, wondering if this was a joke. Some kind of surprise he planned.
"I'm in love with someone else," Marcus said.
The room gasped. My heart stopped beating.
This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.
"Victoria," Marcus called out. "Come up here."
No. Not Victoria. Anyone but Victoria.
My stepsister glided through the crowd like a queen. Her red dress sparkled under the lights. She climbed the stage steps, and Marcus pulled her close, kissing her right there in front of everyone.
In front of me.
My legs finally moved. I pushed through the crowd, people stepping back like I had a disease. Their faces showed pity. Some looked away. Others pulled out their phones, recording my humiliation.
I reached the stage. "What are you doing?" My voice came out small, broken.
Marcus looked down at me. Not with love. Not even with guilt. With annoyance, like I was bothering him.
"We've been together for six months, Isla," he said into the microphone. Everyone heard. "I tried to love you. I really did. But Victoria... she's everything you're not."
Victoria smiled. Not a nice smile. A winning smile.
"You knew?" I looked at my stepsister. "You did this on purpose?"
"Oh, Isla." Victoria's voice dripped with fake sweetness. "You're so naive. Did you really think Marcus loved you? Nobody could love you."
Laughter. Someone in the crowd actually laughed.
I searched the room for my family. My stepfather Leonard stood by the bar, watching with cold eyes. My stepmother Patricia sipped champagne, looking bored. Neither moved to help me.
They knew. They all knew.
"The wedding is cancelled," Marcus announced. "Obviously."
He pulled the microphone closer. "Oh, and Isla? I need you out of the penthouse by tomorrow. It's in my name. You have nothing."
More gasps. More phones recording.
I wanted to scream. To fight. To make them hurt the way they hurt me. But my throat closed up. Tears burned my eyes, and I refused to cry. Not here. Not in front of them.
I turned and ran.
Behind me, the party music started again. They were celebrating. My destruction was just entertainment.
I made it to the hotel bathroom before the tears came. Violent, ugly sobs that shook my whole body. I gripped the marble sink, staring at my reflection.
Pathetic. Weak. Stupid.
How did I not see this coming?
The bathroom door opened. I didn't look up.
"The car's waiting." My best friend Alessa's voice, sharp with anger.
"How long?" I asked. "How long did everyone know?"
Alessa's face in the mirror looked furious. "I found out tonight, I swear. If I'd known earlier, I would've burned his house down."
"Six months," I whispered. "He cheated for six months while planning our wedding. While I picked out flowers and tasted cakes like an idiot."
"You're not an idiot. They're monsters."
My phone buzzed. A text from my stepfather Leonard: Family meeting tomorrow, 9 AM. Don't be late.
Then my stepmother Patricia: You embarrassed this family tonight. There will be consequences.
Then Victoria: Told you nobody wants you. Not even your own mother did. That's why she died and left you with us.
I threw my phone across the bathroom. It hit the wall and cracked.
"Let's go," Alessa said gently. "You're staying with me tonight."
"I can't go back to the penthouse anyway. It's Marcus's." I laughed, but it sounded broken. "Everything is Marcus's. The apartment, the car he bought me, even my job at my stepfather's company. I have nothing."
"You have me."
"That's not enough, Alessa." I met her eyes. "I trusted them. All of them. I made myself small and quiet and perfect because I thought if I just tried hard enough, they'd love me. But they never did. They just wanted someone to push around."
"So push back."
"How? I have no money, no home, no job. By tomorrow, I'll have nothing."
Alessa grabbed my shoulders. "Then we make them pay. We destroy them the way they destroyed you."
"With what? My broken heart and ruined reputation?"
"With anger," Alessa said. "You're done being nice Isla. It's time to be dangerous Isla."
I wanted to believe her. But looking in the mirror at my red eyes and smudged makeup, I just looked like a victim.
We left through the back exit to avoid reporters. Alessa's tiny apartment felt like a cage after Marcus's penthouse, but at least it was safe.
I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Marcus kissing Victoria. Saw three hundred people watching my humiliation. Heard Victoria's words: Nobody could love you.
At 3 AM, I gave up and sat on Alessa's couch, staring at nothing.
My phone—cracked screen and all—buzzed with notifications. Social media had exploded. #IslaMonroe was trending. Videos of Marcus's announcement played over and over. Memes of my shocked face. Comments calling me pathetic, saying I deserved it, asking what was wrong with me that Marcus chose her stepsister.
The world was laughing at me.
Then I saw the bank notification. My trust fund—frozen. My stepfather had locked me out.
An email from HR at Monroe Industries: Your employment has been terminated, effective immediately.
A text from Marcus's lawyer: You have 24 hours to vacate the premises. Personal belongings only.
They'd planned this. Every step. They wanted me to have nothing. To be nothing.
Rage boiled in my chest, hot and sharp.
Alessa was right. Nice Isla got destroyed. It was time for someone new.
At 8:30 AM, I walked into my stepfather's office for the family meeting. Leonard sat behind his massive desk. Patricia perched on the leather couch. Victoria leaned against the window, smiling.
"Sit down, Isla," Leonard said.
I remained standing. "What do you want?"
"To discuss your situation." Leonard folded his hands. "You've become a liability to this family's reputation. Your trust fund will remain frozen until you learn some humility."
"You stole my money."
"I'm managing it. There's a difference."
Patricia laughed. "Oh, Isla. You really thought that money was yours? Your mother left it to Leonard to manage for you. He can do whatever he wants with it."
"That's theft."
"Prove it," Victoria said sweetly.
I looked at the three of them. My family. The people who were supposed to love me.
"You're right," I said quietly. "I was naive. Stupid. Weak."
Leonard smiled. "Finally, some self-awareness."
"But I'm done being those things." I met his eyes. "You made a mistake. You pushed me too far. And I'm going to make you regret it."
Patricia laughed. "With what? You have nothing."
"Not yet," I said. "But I will."
I walked out of that office with no money, no home, and no plan.
But I had something more dangerous.
I had nothing left to lose.
One week later, I sat alone in the darkest dive bar in Manhattan, three empty shot glasses in front of me. The alcohol burned, but not as much as the betrayal.
A man in an expensive suit sat down next to me. He looked completely out of place in this dump.
"Rough night?" he asked.
I laughed bitterly. "Rough life."
He signaled the bartender. "Two more shots. Top shelf."
I looked at him. Storm-gray eyes. Sharp jaw. The kind of handsome that belonged on magazine covers.
"I know you," he said. "You're Isla Monroe. The girl from the videos."
My stomach dropped. "Great. A fan of my humiliation."
"Not a fan. An opportunity." He held out his hand. "Dante Salvatore."
The name hit me like lightning.
Dante Salvatore. The Corporate Reaper. The billionaire who destroyed companies for fun. The most dangerous man in Manhattan.
"What do you want?" I asked.
He smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.
"To make you an offer you can't refuse."