Isla's head throbbed like someone had taken a hammer to her skull. She groaned, keeping her eyes shut against what she sensed was bright sunlight. Her mouth felt like cotton, her limbs heavy as lead.
What happened last night? The gala... Victoria's strange smile... the bitter champagne...
Slowly, memories trickled back. Victoria had given her a drink. Then everything went fuzzy. Julian had been there, worried, reaching for her. And then... nothing. Blank space where memories should be.
Isla shifted, realizing she was in a bed. Not her crisp cotton sheets though—these felt like silk, cool against her skin. And her pillow smelled different—expensive cologne with notes of cedar and bergamot.
Her eyes snapped open.
Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a panoramic view of San Francisco Bay that she definitely didn't have in her apartment. The room was massive, decorated in slate grays and deep blues. Modern art hung on the walls, and sleek furniture spoke of wealth and masculine taste.
This wasn't her bedroom.
Panic seized her throat as she realized she was wearing only a thin silk nightgown she'd never seen before. Her emerald gown from the gala was nowhere in sight.
A sound beside her froze her blood—deep, steady breathing.
Isla turned her head slowly, already knowing what she'd find but praying she was wrong.
Damien Calloway lay next to her, shirtless, his chiseled torso rising and falling with each breath. The morning light caught the sharp angles of his face, softening them slightly in sleep. He looked younger, less intimidating than he had at the gala.
Isla bit back a scream, slowly, carefully sliding to the edge of the bed. She had to get out of here. Now.
Her bare feet touched cold marble floors as she stood, fighting dizziness. The room spun briefly before settling. Whatever had been in that champagne still lingered in her system.
Where were her clothes? Her phone? Her purse?
A gleam on the nightstand caught her eye—a thick cream-colored paper with gold embossing. Isla's stomach dropped as she realized what it was. The marriage certificate Victoria had shown her at the office. The one naming her and Damien Calloway as husband and wife.
She snatched it up, scanning the details. Date: three days ago. Location: The Lotus Garden Chapel. Witnesses: Victoria Calloway and... Serena Hayes?
Isla nearly gasped out loud. Serena was her best friend and lawyer colleague. Why would her name be on this document? Had she actually witnessed this farce?
The paper trembled in Isla's hands. This couldn't be real. Yet here she was, in Damien Calloway's bed after waking up from being drugged at his stepmother's party.
A flash of fury cut through her fear. They had drugged her. They had changed her clothes. They had brought her here without her consent.
Isla spotted a closet across the room and tiptoed toward it, heart hammering in her chest. She needed clothes, keys, a phone—anything to help her escape.
The closet was a walk-in the size of her entire bathroom. To her shock, the left side held women's clothing—dresses, suits, shoes in her exact size. As if someone had prepared for her arrival.
"What kind of sick game is this?" she whispered, grabbing a simple dress and flats. She changed quickly, ears tuned to any change in Damien's breathing.
On a shelf by the door, she spotted her purse—the small clutch she'd carried to the gala. Her fingers trembled as she checked inside. Phone, wallet, keys—all there.
Thirteen missed calls from Julian. Five from her mother. Twenty-seven text messages.
She couldn't call anyone now—not with Damien sleeping a few feet away. First, she needed to get out.
A sound from the bed made her freeze. Damien shifted, rolling onto his back, one arm flung above his head. He didn't wake.
Clutching her purse to her chest, Isla tiptoed to the bedroom door and eased it open.
The hallway revealed a sprawling penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Modern furniture, minimalist art, and not a single personal photo anywhere. Cold, like its owner.
Isla spotted the front door across the massive living room. Freedom was just steps away.
"Leaving so soon, Mrs. Calloway?"
The voice, silky smooth and dangerous, made Isla's heart stop. She turned slowly.
Victoria Calloway sat at the kitchen island, sipping coffee as calmly as if she belonged there. Her silver-streaked hair was perfectly styled despite the early hour, her silk blouse unwrinkled.
"You!" Isla hissed, fury overriding her fear. "You drugged me!"
Victoria raised an eyebrow. "Such accusations. I merely offered you champagne. How was I to know you couldn't handle your alcohol?"
"That's a lie and you know it." Isla's fists clenched. "What did you do to me? Why am I here?"
"You're here because this is your home now," Victoria said simply. "With your husband."
"He is NOT my husband!" Isla's voice rose dangerously. "This entire thing is fraud. I'll have you arrested for this."
Victoria's smile hardened. "With what evidence? Your signature is on the marriage certificate—verified by experts, I assure you. The chapel has video of your ceremony. Your best friend witnessed it. You have photos together on both your phones." She took another sip of coffee. "Face it, Isla. For all legal purposes, you are Mrs. Damien Calloway."
Isla's mind raced. None of this made sense. "Why? What could you possibly gain from forcing us into a marriage neither of us wanted?"
Victoria set down her cup. "Who says neither of you wanted it?"
Before Isla could respond, a door slammed somewhere in the apartment. Heavy footsteps approached.
"Victoria? Why are you here so early?" Damien's deep voice preceded him into the room. He appeared wearing only pajama bottoms, hair damp as if he'd just showered. He stopped short when he spotted Isla. "You're awake."
"No thanks to your stepmother," Isla snapped. "She drugged me last night."
Damien's eyes narrowed as he turned to Victoria. "Is this true?"
Victoria waved a dismissive hand. "Your wife had too much champagne and fainted. Julian was creating a scene, so I suggested you bring her here to recover. Nothing sinister."
"I had ONE sip!" Isla protested. "And I'm leaving. Now."
Damien studied her face, his expression unreadable. "Did you look at your phone?"
The question caught her off guard. "What?"
"Your phone," he repeated. "Check your photos."
Something in his tone made her stomach twist. Isla pulled out her phone, opening her photo gallery.
What she saw made her knees weak.
Photo after photo of her and Damien together. At restaurants she'd never visited. On a boat she'd never been on. Kissing at sunset on a beach she didn't recognize. All dated over the past three months.
"This isn't possible," she whispered. "These are fake."
"Check your text messages," Damien said quietly. "Our conversation history goes back months."
With shaking fingers, Isla opened her messages. There it was—a thread with Damien Calloway. Hundreds of texts. Romantic, casual, intimate exchanges between lovers.
"Someone hacked my phone. Changed my photos. This isn't real!" Panic rose in her chest, threatening to choke her.
Victoria stood smoothly. "I'll leave you two to sort this out. Damien, remember you have the board meeting at ten." She glided to the door, pausing with her hand on the knob. "Oh, and Isla? Do call your mother. She's worried sick about you."
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Isla alone with Damien.
"What do you remember about the night before the gala?" he asked suddenly.
Isla blinked. "What?"
"Before the gala. Before Victoria showed you our marriage certificate. What were you doing?"
Isla frowned, trying to think back. "I... I was at my apartment. Working late on case files. Then I went to bed."
"Alone?"
"Julian was at a business dinner in Oakland." Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"
Damien ran a hand through his damp hair. "Because I have the same problem. I was working late at my office, then went to my condo to sleep. Alone. Then the next morning, I woke up with a marriage certificate on my nightstand and photos of us I don't remember taking."
Isla stared at him. "You really don't remember marrying me either?"
"No more than you remember marrying me." His blue eyes were intense, searching. "Someone did this to us, Isla. And I intend to find out who and why."
Isla's lawyer mind kicked into gear. "The certificate looked legal. The chapel exists. Serena's signature—she's my best friend. Why would she sign as a witness if this never happened?"
"We need to talk to her," Damien said. "And check the chapel's security footage."
Isla nodded slowly, then froze as a new thought hit her. "If we were drugged into this marriage, what else happened that we don't remember?"
Damien's jaw tightened. "That's what worries me."
Isla's phone buzzed—a text from Julian.
Where are you? I've been worried sick! The hospital said you checked out last night. Are you okay?
"Hospital?" Isla looked up at Damien.
"After you collapsed, the paramedics came," he explained. "But Victoria convinced them to release you into my care since we're... married."
The word hung heavy between them.
Another text from Julian appeared: Just saw the news. Call me NOW.
"What news?" Isla whispered.
Damien grabbed a remote, turning on a massive wall-mounted TV. He flipped to a business news channel.
Isla's heart stopped as she saw the headline scrolling across the bottom of the screen:
BREAKING: BILLIONAIRE DAMIEN CALLOWAY AND TOP ATTORNEY ISLA BENNETT SECRET WEDDING REVEALED. BUSINESS MERGER OR LOVE MATCH?
And there it was—a photo of them from the supposed wedding, her in a white dress she'd never worn, smiling up at a man she'd never met before yesterday.
"This isn't happening," Isla whispered.
Her phone began ringing—Julian calling. At the same moment, Damien's phone rang too. The name on his screen made Isla's blood run cold.
Cassian Wolfe. Damien's business rival.
"Don't answer that," Damien warned, nodding at her phone. "Not until we figure this out."
But Isla had already backed away toward the door, shaking her head. "No. I need to talk to Julian. I need to go home." She grabbed the door handle. "This isn't my life. You're not my husband."
Damien's expression darkened. "Running won't solve this, Isla."
"Watch me," she snapped, yanking the door open.
"There's something else you should know before you go," he called after her, his voice tight.
Isla paused in the doorway, not turning around.
"Victoria had your things moved here yesterday," Damien said quietly. "Your apartment lease has been terminated. According to all records... this is your home now."
Isla's blood froze as the full weight of her situation crashed down on her. Someone had erased her life and created a new one—with a stranger for a husband.
And they'd done it so perfectly that no one would believe it wasn't her choice.