ISLA
I woke to the warmth of the first ray of sunlight streaming through the window.
Slowly, I opened my eyes and stretched my stiff limbs.
I had a really good sleep last night.
Wait.
The last thing I remembered was falling asleep in the car on our way back here.
Did Alistair…
carry me all the way up?
My cheeks turned hot involuntarily.
I still don’t understand why I have these odd reactions every time I’m with him.
Shaking off my bizarre thoughts, I sat up—only to find the other side of the bed empty.
The mattress showed he had indeed slept there, but strangely, he was already up this early.
So what?
It’s none of my business anymore.
I exhaled sharply and reached for my phone on the nightstand.
A letter rested there, folded with elegant neatness.
The bold, precise handwriting of my name across the front was instantly familiar.
With careful fingers, I took the letter and unfolded it.
I’ll be out of the country for a three-day business trip.
—Alistair
That was all it said.
No greeting, no farewell.
Very much Alistair’s cold style.
Three days.
For three days, I could move without his shadow in this bedroom, breathe without the weight of his presence pressing against me.
The thought should have brought relief—yet I found myself strangely unsettled by the emptiness it left behind.
Nope.
Erase that thought.
It sounded so ridiculous.
Pushing the feeling aside, I readied myself for the day.
I got up, took a quick shower, and fixed myself before leaving the bedroom.
There, I was simply Dr.
Isla—not a wife bound in a cold marriage.
Once I stepped out of the lift, I was startled by the light, elegant laughter of women echoing from the far end of the living room, where the sitting space was located.
This mansion had always been so still ever since I came here, the silence broken only by the quiet movements of servants.
I slowed my steps, each one faintly echoing as I approached.
The lift was tucked behind the winding staircase to the second floor, usually used only by old Lady Margaret and Alistair, who lived on the third and fourth floors.
I immediately saw them—two women seated on the long velvet couch, posture refined, movements graceful as they leaned toward each other in conversation.
One glance was enough for recognition to strike me.
Liana.
My stomach tightened.
She sat there like she owned the air around her, head tilted slightly, lips curved with effortless charm.
Beside her was another woman, equally sophisticated.
Her features were unfamiliar, but she carried the same aura—polished, elegant, aristocratic.
The sound of my steps must have reached them, because they both turned.
Their gazes landed on me at once.
And just like that, the warmth in their expressions dissolved.
The laughter that had filled the room moments ago evaporated into silence.
What remained in their eyes was cold and cutting, as if I were a stain marring the perfect picture they had painted together.
A small knot formed in my chest.
I gripped the strap of my bag tighter, forcing my feet to carry me forward.
Of course.
Why would I expect anything different?
Women like them always made it clear where someone like me stood—invisible at best, unwelcome at worst.
I drew a steady breath, pressing the unease deeper into myself.
Three days of freedom, I had thought.
But maybe, freedom in this house was only ever an illusion.
Liana was the first to speak, her face lit up with that smooth, gentle smile I knew too well—so practiced, so perfectly fake.
“Isla…
what a delight to see you again.” Her eyes lingered on me, polished with false warmth.
“I must say, I hadn’t expected to find you here—at the Montgomery estate of all places…”
Her voice trailed, the smile on her lips stiffening ever so slightly. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
Before I could respond, the woman beside her stepped forward.
Her features were refined, but the disdain in her eyes couldn’t be hidden.
“So it’s true,” she said, her lips curving faintly.
“You’re the woman my brother married.” She let the words hang in the air like a challenge before continuing.
“I must admit, I had imagined his choice to be…
different.
More fitting for what our family deserves.”
Liana gave a light, musical laugh.
“Oh, Stacey, don’t be too harsh.
Perhaps we should offer Isla our best wishes.
After all, not every woman can claim to have caught Alistair Montgomery’s eye.”
Her glance slid back to me, sweetness veiling the bite beneath.
“Though I daresay, it must feel rather overwhelming.”
Stacey’s smile sharpened, brittle as glass.
“Overwhelming indeed.
Everyone believed it would be you, Liana.
You’re far more suitable to become my sister-in-law, in every way that matters.” Her disdainful eyes raked over me once more.
“She’s your twin sister, isn’t she?
Why can’t she carry even a hint of your grace?
Such a pity.”
For the first time, Liana’s expression faltered.
I knew why.
She despised being labeled as my “twin.” Every time someone mentioned it, she reacted as though the words were a curse, as if I were a disease she couldn’t rid herself of.
Both women stared at me—one cloaked in mockery, the other in naked disdain—expecting me to flinch.
But I didn’t.
Mockery had long since lost its sting; I was immune.
I glanced briefly at my watch, then met their sharp gazes head-on.
“I understand perfectly that neither of you like seeing me here.
But your opinions don’t matter.
Alistair made his choice—and whether you approve or not won’t change a thing.”
Liana’s smile wavered, anger and envy flashing in her eyes.
Stacey’s lips pressed into a thin, rigid line.
“You—” Stacey snapped, but her words were cut short by the sharp tap of a cane.
“Is this how you conduct yourselves under my roof?”
Old Lady Margot’s voice sliced through the air, commanding the room as she stepped forward.