The last person Isla expected to see at the hospital was Derek Castellan—her ex-fiancé, tech mogul, and the man she'd left three years ago when his controlling behavior became unbearable.
He appeared in Ryder's doorway wearing a thousand-dollar suit and a concerned expression that didn't quite reach his eyes. 'Isla. Thank God you're safe. I've been trying to reach you for days.'
'Derek.' She stood, positioning herself between him and Ryder's bed. 'What are you doing here?'
'I heard about everything. The stalking, the attacks, your family's conspiracy.' He stepped closer, forcing her back. 'I wanted to make sure you were okay. To offer support during this difficult time.'
'I'm fine. I have support.' She gestured to Ryder, who was watching Derek with undisguised suspicion.
Derek's gaze slid over Ryder dismissively. 'Your bodyguard. Yes, I've read the stories. Quite the scandal you've created.'
'We haven't created anything except a relationship based on trust and honesty. Something you wouldn't understand.' Isla kept her voice level despite growing anger.
'Isla, come on. Be realistic.' Derek's tone was patronizing, familiar in the worst way. 'You've been through trauma. You're not thinking clearly. This man is paid to protect you. He's doing his job. You've confused professional obligation with genuine feeling.'
'Get out.' Ryder's voice was quiet, deadly.
'I'm sorry, was I talking to you?' Derek didn't even look at him. 'Isla and I have history. Real history. Not some crisis-born fantasy.'
'We broke up three years ago because you were controlling and manipulative. Nothing about that has changed.' Isla crossed her arms. 'So I'll ask again—what are you really doing here?'
Derek's pleasant mask slipped fractionally. 'I'm here because I care about you. Because I can offer you things he can't. Stability. Status. A life without constantly being shot at.'
'You're here because you saw an opportunity. I'm vulnerable, my family's imploding, and you thought you could swoop in and play hero.' Isla's voice hardened. 'But I don't need rescuing. Especially not from you.'
'Don't be naive. Look at him.' Derek finally acknowledged Ryder. 'He's a hired gun with PTSD and a savior complex. You think he actually loves you? He loves the mission. The protection. Take away the danger, and what's left? A broken soldier with nothing to offer.'
Ryder moved to get out of bed despite his injuries. Isla put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. This was her fight.
'What's left is a man who's seen me at my absolute worst and loves me anyway. Who's taken literal bullets for me. Who's honest about his damage instead of hiding it behind expensive suits and fake concern.' She stepped closer to Derek. 'You want to know the difference between him and you? Ryder makes me feel safe. You made me feel trapped. Now get out before I call security.'
Derek's expression turned cold. 'You're making a mistake. When this infatuation fades and you're left with nothing—no family, no company, no future—don't come crying to me.'
'I won't. Because I'll still have the one thing that matters. Love that's real and earned and mutual.' She opened the door, making her message clear. 'Goodbye, Derek. Don't contact me again.'
He left, but not before giving Ryder one last contemptuous look. The door closed behind him, and Isla sagged against it, suddenly exhausted.
'Old boyfriend?' Ryder asked carefully.
'Ex-fiancé. We were engaged for six months before I realized he was trying to control every aspect of my life. Where I went, who I saw, what I wore. He called it protection. I called it prison.' She returned to Ryder's bedside. 'I broke it off, and he's never fully accepted it.'
'He's still in love with you.' It wasn't a question.
'He's in love with owning me. There's a difference.' Isla kissed Ryder softly. 'Don't let his garbage get in your head. You're nothing like him.'
'I am though. A little.' Ryder's expression was troubled. 'The protectiveness. The control. The need to keep you safe even when it means making decisions for you. That's not so different.'
'The difference is you ask. You listen. You adjust when I push back. Derek never did. He just tightened the leash and called it love.' She framed his face in her hands. 'You trust me to make my own choices. Even when those choices terrify you. That's real love. Not possession.'
'Sometimes the line feels thin. Between protection and control.' His vulnerability was raw, honest. 'I worry I'm too damaged to love you properly. That my need to keep you safe will eventually become suffocating.'
'Then we'll talk about it. Set boundaries. Figure it out together.' She settled beside him carefully. 'That's what healthy relationships do. They communicate instead of dictating.'
'You make it sound simple.'
'It is simple. Complicated people make it complicated. But the core is just... choosing each other. Every day. Even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard.' She laced her fingers through his. 'I choose you. Your damage and mine. Your protectiveness and my independence. All of it.'
Before Ryder could respond, Isla's phone rang. Agent Kimball. She answered on speaker.
'Adrian's release has been blocked. We found evidence linking him directly to the poisoning—he orchestrated it from his hospital bed using a burner phone Sophia smuggled in. He's not going anywhere.' Relief flooded Kimball's voice. 'And there's more. We've connected him to your mother's death. He was only twelve, but he helped disable her car's brakes. This goes deeper than we thought.'
'How deep?' Isla could barely process it.
'Your entire extended family was involved. The cousins, the uncles, even your grandmother. They saw your mother as a threat to the family fortune and conspired to eliminate her. Adrian and Sophia were raised with this twisted sense of family loyalty. Taught that removing obstacles was acceptable. Even necessary.' Kimball sighed. 'We're looking at RICO charges. Conspiracy spanning decades. This is going to destroy the Thornton name completely.'
'Good. Let it burn.' Isla's voice was cold. 'They murdered my mother. Tried to murder me. They deserve whatever comes.'
After the call ended, she lay beside Ryder in silence, processing everything. Her family—her entire family—had been corrupt. Murderous. Evil hidden behind charity galas and corporate respectability.
'I don't want the Thornton name,' she said finally. 'I don't want their money, their company, any of it. It's all poison. Built on lies and murder and—' Her voice broke. 'How do I build a life after learning everything I knew was false?'
'You start small. One choice at a time. One day at a time.' Ryder pulled her closer. 'First choice—do you want to stay in New York?'
'I don't know. Maybe not. Too many memories. Too much media attention.'
'Second choice—do you want to stay with me?'
'Yes. Always yes.' No hesitation.
'Then that's where we start. We leave New York. Find somewhere quiet. Build something new that's just ours. No family legacies. No corporate obligations. Just us.' His hand found hers. 'What do you say? Ready to disappear with a broken soldier and see what life looks like when we choose it for ourselves?'
Isla kissed him, pouring everything—fear and hope and desperate love—into the contact. 'Yes. Let's disappear. Together.'
CLIFFHANGER: A nurse entered to check vitals, then paused. 'I'm sorry, are you Isla Thornton?' Isla nodded warily. The nurse's expression was sympathetic. 'Your father is in the ICU. Heart attack about an hour ago. They've been trying to reach you. You should come now. They don't think he has much time left.'