The soft hum of waves crashed against the shoreline, a rhythm too calm to match the storm brewing in Bianca's chest.
She sat on the edge of the bed in a silky white robe, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet of the five-star suite on the private island Kayden had whisked her away to. The ocean stretched endlessly beyond the glass doors, golden light spilling into the room, but none of it reached her.
Her fingers absentmindedly brushed the diamond wedding band on her finger. A beautiful trap.
Kayden was in the shower. She could hear the water running—steady, controlled—just like him. Everything about this trip screamed romance: champagne on ice, rose petals on the bed, a private dinner under the stars. But her heart felt hollow.
She should have felt like a bride—glowing, blushing, blissfully in love. Instead, she felt like a shadow playing dress-up.
She drew in a shaky breath and closed her eyes.
And just like that... the memory came crashing back.
Flashback –
The silence was unbearable.
Bianca stared at Kayden, her lips parted but frozen. Her heart pounded in her ears, loud and relentless. Around her, the whispers had started to rise, a buzz of confusion washing over the guests.
She could feel her father's eyes burning into her from the front row. Naomi, seated just a few feet away, wore an unreadable expression—except Bianca knew her too well. There was satisfaction hidden beneath her glossy pink smile.
Say it, Bianca. Just say it.
Her throat tightened. Her chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. For a second, she thought she might throw up.
Kayden's hand was steady in hers. Too steady.
"Bianca," the officiant gently persuaded, his voice trying to cut through the weight in the air. "Do you take Kayden––"
"I do."
The words tumbled out too fast, too low. She had forced them, like a swallowed scream.
Relief rippled through the crowd. Smiles returned. The officiant continued, Kayden slipped the ring on her finger, and the ceremony rolled on.
But Bianca... Bianca felt nothing.
Just a roaring silence in her chest.
The ballroom sparkled under the golden glow of chandeliers, guests swirling around with champagne flutes in hand and conversations laced with envy and admiration.
Bianca moved from table to table like a ghost in silk. Her smile was polite, her words measured, but her eyes... they scanned. Always scanning.
For him.
She'd caught a glimpse earlier—just a flicker of his frame as he took his seat in the far back under a different name, like Naomi promised. He shouldn't have come. And yet, a part of her knew he would.
Bianca's heart raced as she moved between guests, careful not to draw attention to her unease. But then—
"Bianca."
That voice.
That name in that tone.
She froze. She didn't need to turn around. She knew it. Every cell in her body remembered him.
Liam.
He stepped close, too close for a man who had no right. Dressed sharply in black, he blended with the crowd but stood out to her in every way. His eyes, once soft, now burned with the weight of betrayal.
"You look... miserable," he said under his breath, a smirk twitching at the edge of his lips. "Marriage looks good on you."
"What are you doing here?" she whispered, eyes still fixed ahead, pretending to greet a guest. "You shouldn't have come."
"Why? Scared someone will find out?" he hissed quietly, his tone laced with mockery. "You think you can erase me and him that easily?"
Bianca's breath hitched. Her eyes darted to Kayden across the room—he was watching. Of course he was. He never missed a thing. And now, his brows were furrowed, steps slow as he started to move toward her.
"I'm not here to make a scene," Liam continued. "But you're not going to keep me in the shadows. I'm done hiding. Sooner or later, the truth will come out."
She finally turned to him, panic barely masked behind practiced elegance. "Please, not here. Not today."
Liam gave a tight smile and stepped back, blending into the crowd again like smoke.
Bianca turned quickly, willing herself to breathe, to smile, to pretend it never happened. But Kayden was almost at her side now, his expression unreadable.
Just as he made his move to step in—
"Trouble in paradise?"
The voice was low, amused.
Mr. Daniel.
He stood with a glass of champagne in hand, eyes on Bianca and then on Kayden with a knowing smirk. He leaned in slightly. "You should keep an eye on your bride. She looks like she's holding something in."
Kayden's jaw tensed.
He glanced back in Liam's direction—just in time to catch a flicker of eye contact.
Bianca had already slipped away.
Bianca exhaled shakily, dragging herself out of the memory that refused to stay buried. The sound of the shower water stopped, and moments later, the bathroom door creaked open, letting out a slow spill of steam into the room.
She turned, and there he was—Kayden.
Towel wrapped low around his waist, droplets of water tracing paths down his sculpted torso, he moved with the kind of confidence that wasn't forced—it was born, built into his very bones. Every part of him screamed control, elegance, danger. The soft light from the balcony danced across his skin, highlighting the dips and ridges of his abs, the sharp cut of his jaw.
Bianca's eyes lingered longer than she meant to. There was a flicker of something hot and sharp in her chest, something that shouldn't be there—not after everything.
"Did I interrupt something?" His voice broke through her thoughts—low, smooth, with just the faintest edge.
She blinked. "What?"
"You were... staring," he said, his tone unreadable, though a slight smirk played on his lips.
She rolled her eyes to cover the heat rising in her cheeks. "You wish."
He chuckled and walked past her, the scent of his cologne teasing her senses—woodsy, masculine, expensive. It clung to the air, intimate.
Then, as he slipped on his watch, he said it—so casually it caught her off guard.
"At the wedding... the man who spoke to you. He didn't look like a stranger."
Her heart lurched.
Bianca stilled, her fingers tightening around the edge of her robe. She forced herself to breathe, to look at him.
"He's… no one." she replied, too quickly.
Kayden held her gaze longer than necessary. "Everyone's someone, Bianca. Just depends on what they cost."
He studied her for a moment, lips parting like he wanted to say more... Then he shut it down.
"I've arranged dinner," he said. "It's on the beach."
She nodded slowly, unsure what to make of the shift.
He stepped closer, just close enough that the space between them felt like a game.
"Wear something red," he added, his voice lower now. "It suits the storm behind your eyes."
And just like that, he was gone—leaving her in the suite with nothing but her racing heart and the weight of questions she didn't know how to ask herself.
The sun had melted into the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of amber and rose gold, casting a soft glow across the private island. A gentle breeze rolled in from the ocean, carrying with it the scent of sea salt, jasmine, and anticipation.
Bianca stepped out of the villa and into the evening air—a vision designed to captivate.
The red silk dress clung to her like a second skin, flowing around her curves in all the right places. It was daring—intentionally so. The plunging neckline teased just enough without giving everything away, and the thigh-high slit allowed her legs to glide through the fabric with every slow, deliberate step. The dress shimmered with every movement, catching the last golden rays of the sunset and making her look like a flame come to life.
Her skin glowed—smooth, rich, and kissed by the island's warmth. Her curls cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, framing her delicate features and those expressive eyes that had held too many secrets for too long.
A touch of red shimmered on her lips, sultry and bold. The kind of red that dared someone to look away. And her heels, strappy and golden, clicked softly against the cobbled path that led toward the beach.
She wasn't just walking.
She was making an entrance.
And she knew it.
Every sway of her hips, every calculated breath—it was all intentional. Tonight, she wanted Kayden to see her. Not the fragile girl caught in a web of secrets, not the pawn in his family's twisted plans—but Bianca. The woman. The goddess. The flame he couldn't contain.
The torches lining the beach flickered to life as she approached, casting shadows on the sand. In the distance, she spotted the table—low and elegant, draped in white linen, surrounded by candles and lanterns that danced in the wind. And there, standing beside it in a dark, fitted shirt that hugged his frame too perfectly, was Kayden.
He hadn't noticed her yet.
But he would.
She smiled to herself and slowed her steps, giving the night—and Kayden—every chance to drink her in.
Kayden's eyes lifted—and for a split second, he froze.
Bianca.
The woman walking toward him didn't look like a bride forced into a marriage. She looked like temptation wrapped in silk and confidence, her beauty softened only by the glow of the setting sun behind her.
But just as quickly as the awe crossed his face, he blinked it away, replacing it with his usual mask of cool arrogance. His signature smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Well, well," he said, taking a slow sip from his wine glass. "Didn't know I married a goddess."
Bianca rolled her eyes, though the compliment didn't go unnoticed. "Nice setup," she said casually, sliding into the cushioned chair across from him. "I'll admit... I'm impressed."
Kayden leaned back in his seat, clearly pleased with himself. "Only the best. You should get used to being spoiled, Mrs. Russo."
She raised an eyebrow, a small laugh escaping her lips. "Spoiled, or distracted?"
He leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Why not both?"
They shared a small moment—light, teasing. The flicker of candlelight between them made everything feel softer... almost normal. For a heartbeat, it was just two people sharing dinner on a beach.
But then… the spell cracked.
Kayden's phone vibrated.
He reached for it instinctively, face tightening just a fraction when he glanced at the screen.
A name flashed—Sabrina—before he declined the call with a swift tap of a finger and slid the phone face-down on the table like nothing happened.
Bianca noticed.
Another buzz. And another. He ignored each one, jaw tensing slightly as he tried to act unfazed.
Bianca's smile faded. Her eyes dropped to the vibrating phone, then back up to him. "Don't you want to get that?" she asked, her voice laced with something between irritation and curiosity.
Kayden shrugged, casual as ever. "It's nothing important."
Bianca didn't believe him. The tight way he said it, the flicker of guilt in his eyes—it said otherwise. Her throat tightened, jealousy creeping up before she could stop it.
Of course. Men like him didn't just turn off old habits overnight. There were probably women lined up from New York to Dubai still clinging to his name.
She looked away, swirling her wine like it could drown the thought clawing at her.
Her fingers gripped the stem tighter than necessary.
Bianca crossed one leg over the other, twirling her fork slowly across the empty plate, pretending not to care. Pretending she hadn't seen the name. But it echoed anyway—Sabrina.
Jealousy? No. That wasn't what she was feeling.
She lifted her glass and took a slow sip.
Okay… maybe a little.
Or a lot.
She told herself it didn't matter. That it was just some meaningless call.
But the way Kayden's shoulders stiffened with each buzz said otherwise.
To distract herself, she asked lightly, "So… what about your family?"
The question seemed to hang in the air.
Kayden's hand froze mid-reach. He didn't look at her at first. Instead, he slowly picked up the wine bottle, filled both their glasses, and leaned back with practiced calm. But Bianca noticed the slight stiffening in his shoulders, the way he avoided her eyes for just a second too long.
He exhaled. A quiet, empty sound.
"My family?" He chuckled dryly. "My father, before he died, built everything I have now. Brick by brick. He started from nothing—sweat, sacrifice, and a ridiculous amount of stubbornness."
Bianca listened closely as his voice dipped lower, more serious now.
"When I was twelve, he told me: 'Someday, I'll hand all of this to you. But only if you become the kind of man who deserves it.' That was the first and last time he ever talked about legacy with me."
Bianca tilted her head. "Sounds intense."
"It was," he said, swirling his wine. "He was obsessed with power, control. With never being poor again. My mother… She wasn't cut out for that kind of life. She left when I was seven."
Bianca blinked. "She left?"
Kayden nodded once, slowly. "Yeah… she left."
Bianca's brows furrowed. "She left? Just like that?"
He didn't speak for a moment.
"She said she was going to visit her sister, he said, voice quieter now. "She packed a small bag, kissed me on the forehead… and promised to bring me back a toy car."
Bianca stilled.
"I waited on the porch every day for a week," he continued, his eyes distant now. "Kept asking my dad if we could go check on her. He'd just grunt and go back to work. On the eighth day, he finally said, 'She's not coming back. Get used to it.'"
A sharp breath escaped Bianca's lips, but she stayed silent.
"I didn't cry," Kayden added, almost like he was still convincing himself. "I just… stopped asking. I think part of me believed she'd still show up eventually. Maybe she got lost. Maybe something happened."
He gave a soft, bitter laugh.
"She didn't get lost. She left because my dad was broke. Because the bills piled up. Because she didn't want to raise a child in a cramped one-bedroom with a man chasing pipe dreams."
Bianca's chest tightened.
"I don't hate her, but I will never forgive her," he said, almost to himself. " I learned early on that love is not enough. People leave when it's inconvenient to stay."
He reached for his glass, took a long sip, and set it down with practiced calm
His jaw clenched. "She was the first. My ex-fiancée was the second."
Bianca's eyes widened a bit. She hadn't expected that.
He gave her a tight smile. "She cheated. With my business rival. Said I was too cold, too distant. That I loved work more than her. Maybe she was right."
Bianca swallowed the lump rising in her throat.
Kayden ran a hand through his hair and looked out toward the sea, his voice a shade darker now.
"Now I have directors who think they can run me out of the very company my father bled to build. The company he handed over to me," he said, his tone laced with steel. "I'll be damned if I let people like Daniel or any of them take that from me."
There it was—that raw, driven fire underneath all his charm and teasing.
Bianca studied him in silence, understanding him more in these few minutes than she had in all their time together.
"I didn't mean to dig," she said softly.
Kayden finally turned to her, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. "It's fine. I just… don't talk about this. Not even to myself."
Bianca smiled gently. "Your secret's safe with me."
He held her gaze. This time, he didn't look away.
For the first time, Bianca didn't feel like she was lying when she smiled at him. But the secrets between them were still there.
Waiting.
And one of them was already growing old enough to ask questions.