The media circus started before they even left the hospital.
Cameras surrounded the building. Reporters shouted questions as Isla tried to navigate to Ryder's room. The story had exploded—heiress not actually an heiress, decades-long family conspiracy, murder, attempted murder, forbidden romance with a bodyguard. It was tabloid gold.
'Isla! Is it true you're not Malcolm Thornton's biological daughter?'
'Did you know about your mother's affair?'
'Are you in a relationship with your bodyguard?'
'Is it true he's using you for money?'
The questions came from all sides, invasive and cruel. Isla kept her head down, security guards clearing a path, ignoring every query. But the damage was already done. Headlines were being written. Her life was being dissected by strangers.
Inside, Ryder was already being harassed by reporters disguised as hospital staff. Isla found three of them trying to interview him while he was literally in recovery from surgery.
'Get out.' Her voice was quiet but absolute. 'All of you. Now. Or I'll have security remove you and press charges for harassment.'
They left, grumbling about freedom of the press, but they left. Isla locked the door behind them, then collapsed into the chair beside Ryder's bed.
'This is insane,' she breathed. 'They're everywhere. Asking about my paternity, my mother, us. Nothing is private anymore.'
'That's what you get for having an interesting life.' Ryder's voice was rough from anesthesia. 'Can't be boring and in the tabloids.'
'This isn't funny. They're destroying what's left of my reputation. Saying I seduced you for protection. That you're using me for money. That our relationship is—' She stopped, unable to continue.
'Fake? A gold-digger scenario? Let them talk.' He reached for her hand. 'We know the truth. That's all that matters.'
'Is it? Because I'm supposed to run Thornton Holdings someday. How can I lead a company when the media is painting me as illegitimate? When my own family tried to kill me? When every headline questions my credibility?'
'Then don't run Thornton Holdings.' Ryder said it simply, like the answer was obvious.
Isla stared at him. 'What?'
'You've spent your entire life trying to live up to your mother's expectations. To prove you deserve the Thornton name. But now you know the truth—you're not a Thornton. Malcolm isn't your father. Your mother had reasons to want out. Maybe it's time you wanted out too.'
The words hung between them, radical and terrifying and somehow liberating. Not run Thornton Holdings. Not carry the weight of the family legacy. Not spend the rest of her life proving herself worthy of a name that wasn't even hers.
'What would I do instead?' The question felt dangerous, hopeful.
'Anything you want. Start your own company. Travel the world. Write a tell-all book about your dysfunctional family.' He smiled. 'Live for yourself instead of for their approval. That's what freedom looks like.'
'I've never been free.' The realization hit hard. 'Not once. Every choice I've made has been about meeting someone else's expectations. My mother's. Malcolm's. The board's. I don't even know who I am without all that pressure.'
'Then figure it out. Take time. Heal from everything. Then decide what you actually want rather than what you've been told to want.' Ryder squeezed her hand. 'I'll be here either way. Whether you're running a corporation or living quietly somewhere. I love you. Not the Thornton name. Not the money. You.'
Before Isla could respond, her phone rang. Malcolm. She answered on speaker. 'Father?'
'We need to talk. About everything.' Malcolm's voice was tired, older than she'd ever heard it. 'I'm outside the hospital. Can I come up?'
Ten minutes later, Malcolm Thornton stood in Ryder's hospital room looking diminished. The arrest, the revelations, the conspiracy—it had all taken a toll. He looked at Isla with something that might have been regret.
'I know what Sophia told you. About your mother. About the affair.' He couldn't quite meet her eyes. 'It's true. All of it.'
'Did you know? When you married her? When I was born?' Isla needed to understand the depths of the lie.
'I knew about the affair. Chose to forgive it, move forward. I believed you were mine until your mother confessed otherwise when you were five. By then...' He shrugged helplessly. 'By then you were my daughter in every way that mattered. I'd raised you. Loved you. The biology seemed irrelevant.'
'But you approved killing her.' Isla's voice was hollow.
'No. I knew about the accident after it happened. Knew it wasn't really an accident. But I didn't order it.' Malcolm's expression was bleak. 'My family—my cousins, my uncle—they handled it without telling me. Presented it as fait accompli. Your mother was gone. Her affair partner dead. The scandal contained. And you were safe because you'd stayed home sick from school that day.'
'Safe.' Isla laughed bitterly. 'I was traumatized. Lost my mother. Spent sixteen years thinking it was random tragedy when it was actually murder.'
'I know. And I'm sorry. For all of it. For not protecting her. For not telling you the truth. For letting you grow up under the weight of false expectations.' Malcolm finally looked at her directly. 'You don't have to be a Thornton. If you want to walk away from the company, from the family, from all of it—I'll understand. I'll even help. Set you up independently, no strings attached.'
'Why would you do that?' She didn't trust the offer.
'Because you're my daughter. Maybe not by blood, but by choice. And I've made enough mistakes. I won't force you into a life you don't want just to preserve the family name.' He glanced at Ryder. 'Kane's a good man. If he makes you happy, that's enough for me.'
Ryder didn't respond, just squeezed Isla's hand in support.
'I need time,' Isla said finally. 'To process all of this. To figure out what I want rather than what's expected. But Malcolm?' She used his first name deliberately. 'Thank you. For telling me the truth. Finally.'
After Malcolm left, Isla curled up in the chair beside Ryder's bed, exhausted and overwhelmed. Outside, cameras still flashed. Reporters still shouted questions. The media frenzy showed no signs of stopping.
'They're calling us a fake relationship,' she said quietly. 'Saying you're using me. That I'm desperate and naive. The comments online are...' She trailed off, unable to finish.
'Ignore them. People who don't know us get no vote in our relationship.' Ryder's voice was firm. 'We know what this is. That's enough.'
'Is it? Because right now it feels like the entire world is against us.' Tears pricked her eyes. 'Family tried to kill me. Media is destroying my reputation. I don't even know who I am anymore without the Thornton name. And you—' Her voice broke. 'You keep almost dying for me.'
'Hey.' He pulled her onto the bed beside him, ignoring the pain. 'Listen to me. We're going to get through this. The media circus will die down. Your identity crisis will resolve. And I'll stop taking bullets once people stop shooting at you. We just need to survive the storm. Together.'
'What if the storm never ends? What if this is just who we are now—targets, spectacles, people whose trauma gets broadcast for entertainment?'
'Then we move somewhere the storm can't reach. Change our names. Start over completely.' He kissed her forehead. 'I don't care where we are or who we're supposed to be. As long as we're together, nothing else matters.'
CLIFFHANGER: Isla's phone buzzed with a news alert. She unlocked it, then went pale. 'Ryder. Adrian woke up from his coma. And he's claiming Sophia acted alone. That he was actually trying to protect me. That everything was misunderstood. He's... he's being released pending new trial.'