The days that followed James's proposal were... surreal.
He kept things simple — no flashy interviews or billionaire press releases. Just us, the rooftop, the scent of rain-soaked roses, and quiet smiles we hadn't known how to share before.
For once, I felt peace.
And maybe, foolishly, I thought that would last.
---
Three days later, while reviewing documents with Sophia at her temporary residence, James called me.
His voice was tight. Controlled. Too calm.
> "She's here."
> "Who?"
> "Her."
I didn't need to ask.
There was only one woman James had never spoken about.
Only one woman whose name vanished every time I tried to ask.
His ex-fiancée.
> Isabelle Sterling.
---
By the time I arrived at James's estate, the tension was thick.
His security had let her through without alerting anyone — she still had biometric access.
That told me everything I needed to know.
I stepped into the drawing room, and there she was.
Tall. Poised. Blonde hair tucked into a flawless chignon. Not a wrinkle on her dove-grey suit. She looked like she had just stepped out of an international runway, or an enemy's chessboard.
Isabelle turned toward me with a sharp, knowing smile.
"Amelia," she said, like we were old acquaintances. "You're even prettier than the tabloids make you out to be."
I stared at her. "And you're exactly as I imagined you'd be."
She laughed softly. "Touché."
James stood between us, stiff. "Isabelle came uninvited. She was just leaving."
"I haven't even poured my tea," she replied sweetly, lowering herself onto the velvet sofa. "But I suppose I'll make this quick."
I crossed my arms. "Why are you here?"
"To warn him," she said, her eyes flicking to James.
"About what?"
She leaned forward.
> "The board of your Dubai tech arm has filed a motion for control. A quiet coup. Using the instability caused by the Windsor takedown."
James blinked. "That's impossible. I consolidated last quarter—"
"They found a loophole," she said. "And they're using it. You think you're safe because the enemy is in prison? James… they are the enemy now."
---
I felt the air shift.
"Why are you helping him?" I asked.
Isabelle looked at me then — really looked.
And for the first time, I saw something beneath the gloss of perfection.
Loneliness. Regret. A history I didn't understand.
"Because I did love him once," she said. "And maybe a part of me still does."
James flinched.
"But not in the way that matters anymore," she added. "I came to warn him because I owe him that. Not to steal him back."
She stood, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve.
"And Amelia?" she said, pausing near the door.
"Yes?"
"He's yours now. Just make sure you don't lose him trying to protect him from the very world he built."
Then she left.
---
Silence.
I turned to James, searching his face.
"You never told me about her."
"I couldn't," he said. "Not without remembering the person I used to be."
"And who was that?"
He exhaled. "A man who thought power would fill the hole grief left behind. A man who almost married a woman he didn't love — just to prove he wasn't empty."
I stepped closer. "Do you love me, James?"
He looked straight into me.
> "I breathe because of you."
I swallowed the tears.
"But if there's something coming," I said slowly, "we face it together. No more shadows. No more secrets."
He nodded.
"Together," he whispered.