Lucas didn’t go back to his disguised home. He didn’t need to. The plan was over now. Isla had failed his test, and he just had to move on with his life. But not before he taught her a lesson she would never forget.
If you didn’t love someone, there was no reason to lead them on in the first place. Be selfish with your desire. Say no—clearly, directly, the moment someone asks to make you the love of their life.
That would have been better. That would have made you someone who knew what she wanted and was unapologetically headed in that direction.
But to lead someone on? To agree to be their wife, only to abandon them at the altar?
That wasn’t love. That was cruelty masked in silence.
Without a second thought, Lucas headed straight to the airport. He needed space, needed to get away, to retreat to the vacation home by the beach in Jamaica. It wasn’t just about solitude. It was about thinking clearly, about processing what had happened, and most importantly, about deciding how best to move on after this.
The flight from Velmoria City took twelve hours. He arrived jet-lagged but determined.
Upon his arrival, his personal assistant, David, was already waiting. A Cadillac Escapade SUV, Lucas's favorite, was parked at the private terminal. The sleek, black vehicle gleamed under the Jamaican sun, ready to take him away from the madness.
Lucas stepped into the private arrival section, entered the SUV, and they drove down the quiet coastal road toward the beach mansion.
By sunrise the next morning, Lucas was seated at the edge of the patio, gazing over the ocean. From the vantage point of his mansion, the horizon stretched endlessly. A dolphin leapt briefly from the waves, its body glistening in the early light.
But Lucas wasn’t really watching. His mind was elsewhere drowning in memory.
He remembered Isla's smile that evening. The joy in her voice as she happily announced their engagement in front of her family. She had sounded radiant, proud like a woman who had found her forever.
He remembered how her family responded. No applause. No celebration. They remained seated at the dining table, barely reacting. Instead, they ordered the chefs to serve dinner, as though nothing had been said.
And then came her father, Ethan Quinn. He had pulled Lucas aside after the meal to offer unsolicited advice on financial literacy. Told him to hustle harder. To ensure their daughter wouldn’t suffer in marriage.
Back then, Lucas took it in stride. He believed the advice came from a place of goodwill.
But now? In hindsight?
Was it ever truly well-intentioned?
If Ethan had reservations about Lucas, why not simply tell his daughter to break it off? Why let the relationship progress only to have her humiliate him in the most public way possible abandoning him at the altar?
Lucas reached for his phone. This vacation home was just that. They didn’t live there, so he didn’t have a local SIM card.
Thankfully, he had enabled roaming. With one tap, he called David.
“Stop the donation to her business,” he said calmly, his tone sharp. “She doesn’t need it anymore.”
“Yes, sir. Doing that right now,” David replied, respectful and swift.
Two years ago, back when Lucas still loved Isla deeply, he saw her passion for fashion. She had dreams of owning her own brand separate from the Quinn family’s empire.
Her father refused to support her. “It’s either the family business or nothing,” he had said, sparking a heated fight between them.
But Lucas had seen her talent. He believed in her. So, he stepped in silently. Every month, he donated no less than fifty thousand dollars to keep the brand afloat. Thanks to that, the once non-existent label had grown into one of Velmoria City’s most sought-after fashion brands.
Now, ironically, Ethan Quinn was back in the picture apologizing and beaming with pride at what his daughter had “achieved on her own.”
Lucas had never needed recognition. But Isla’s silence, her failure to even once acknowledge the help she didn’t know she had cut deeper than he cared to admit. Even disguised as an orphan janitor at her company, he scrubbed floors, cleaned the glass walls, and ensured every seat sparkled just to be close to her dream.
Yet she never said thank you. Never looked twice.
She praised her father the same man who had refused to lift a finger for her.
Lucas scoffed bitterly. The memory felt ridiculous now. Everything he had done in the name of love? It was laughable.
“Let’s see how well she performs without me in the background,” he muttered, eyes drifting back to the ocean’s endless blue.
***
Elsewhere, Isla pulled her lips away slowly from Micah Santiago’s. They had been locked in a sensual kiss for what felt like forever, their tongues exploring each other in lazy satisfaction.
“You’re really evil, babe,” Micah murmured, staring into Isla’s eyes. Every time he looked at her, he swore he felt butterflies flutter in his stomach.
“Really evil? About what?” Isla grinned playfully. She knew what he meant. She just wanted to hear him say it aloud. The pride she felt needed to be stroked by his words.
“You stood up a whole man—a man who loved you more than his own breath—on your wedding day,” Micah chuckled. “How wicked can you be?”
He leaned in again, kissing her as they collapsed back onto their wrinkled bed, the same bed where they had spent the night entangled in lust.
“He should’ve known,” Isla scoffed, pulling her mouth from his again. “I would never marry a person like him. Doesn’t he know I’m a Quinn?”
Their laughter echoed in the room. Micah cupped her breasts, licking her nipples with practiced hunger.
Between muffled moans, he whispered, “Of course. You can only be with me, a Santiago.”
Rising slightly, he shifted above her, ready to move her G-string aside and plunge into her again. But just then, her phone rang.
Isla stretched toward the nightstand, eyes narrowing at the screen. She was expecting good news, perhaps another donation. Her latest fashion line, a revolutionary blouse, was about to launch, and every call was a potential lifeline or breakthrough.
She answered the call while sliding Micah’s aroused dick into her again, eager to hear the news as pleasure simmered inside her.
“Ma… the anonymous donor has terminated the monthly donations,” the voice said urgently. “We’re wrecked!”
“What?” Isla gasped. She shoved Micah off her body, scrambling to her feet, heart thudding.
“You said what?” she asked again, her voice shaking, her heart beating, loud, like an African drum deep in the jungle.

Latest Chapter
Chapter Twelve Three Months Later
“You may love her to the brim, give her everything she’d always wanted. But in the end, she’d still leave you for someone else. Don’t be sad. Brace yourself and move on with your life. Know this for certain—she will come back someday, hoping to discover your worth. And when she does, she will search everywhere to find you. Because deep down, she will finally realize the truth. She’ll understand that she lost a diamond and picked up a stone.”***Lucas turned to the other side of the bed, his eyes open but blank. It had been three months since he arrived in Jamaica. Three long months of waking up alone and staring at the sunrise and sunset as though the skies would offer him healing. He had spent every single day nurturing his heartbreak because, in his belief, time was the only remedy for a person who had truly loved and been left broken.Beside him, his phone rested on the bedside stool. Normally, his mornings followed a predictable routine—he would rise from bed, drag his seat to th
Chapter Eleven The Surrender!
Isla sighed deeply. The weight in her chest felt heavier than usual. She turned the phone screen to her palm, dimmed the screen light, and then pressed and held the power button.In a blink of an eye, the phone vibrated. But she didn’t need to look at the screen to know why. She had pressed and held her hand on the dim button. This was why the phone vibrated. She wanted it off and so it did. Maybe that one simple action was all she needed to finally quiet the chaos in her mind. Maybe shutting down her phone would help her think clearly and decide what to do next.All her life, Isla had never suffered like this. Never. She was a Quinn for a reason. And in Velmoria, the Quinns were a family everyone knew—known for their class, elegance, and most of all, pride.Though, in truth, the pride was more literal than symbolic. Still, it carried weight. It gave them presence. The Quinn name turned heads, made people whisper. In Velmoria, it meant something.And now? Now Isla, a Quinn, was suffe
Chapter Ten Disappointment!
The word felt so untrue to Isla. No matter how much she thought about it, there was no possible way she didn’t own the car.She blinked at the man seated before her, her thoughts swirling in confusion. It was her name on the document, boldly written: “Isla Quinn.” She remembered signing some papers. She remembered holding the keys. So what did Mr. Fredrick mean by saying the car was not legally hers?Her breath hitched, but she held her composure. She was in public. This was not the place to lose control.Still, disbelief gnawed at her. But she knew better than to create a scene here at the bank. She was too smart for that. There was nothing Mr. Fredrick stood to gain by lying. This was one of the most prestigious financial institutions in Velmoria. They were known for their discretion and their high standards. They treated their clients, whom were society's elite, with utmost professionalism and care. So if he said the documents indicated that the car was not legally hers, then perha
Chapter Nine The Loan Officer!
Isla breathed out heavily, stepping into the corner of the hallway and pressing her back against the wall like a criminal trying to avoid arrest. Her heart thudded against her chest, but her face remained composed.She had hoped Mia wouldn't follow her. The thought of a familiar face right now was more terrifying than comforting. Mia had always tried to be her friend since their college days, always tagging along, trying to create a bond under the guise of being from the same city. But no matter the level of familiarity Mia tried to force, Isla never let her in. That door had always been firmly shut.And now, here she was, seeing Isla at the bank and attempting to greet her like old times? When Isla was here, not to invest or network, but to borrow money in secret? The timing couldn’t have been worse.Isla heard the sound of Mia’s heels approaching. Instinctively, she turned back and slipped away toward the side door without entering it, trying to remain unnoticed. From the glassy sli
Chapter Eight To The Bank
“A few moments”, Isla had said, but those moments were quickly stretching into thirty minutes. From thirty, it became a full hour. Her phone kept buzzing every twenty minutes like clockwork. But still, she didn’t pick up.She remained in her room, paralyzed by uncertainty. She didn’t know what to do, where to go, or how to get the money. Her family, who could easily help, had turned their backs on her for their own selfish reasons. And the anonymous donor who had once been her financial backbone had suddenly gone silent, vanishing when she needed them most.As the clock struck noon, the sharp chime from the wall clock echoed through the room, snapping her out of her spiraling thoughts.She hadn’t even closed her eyes, not even a blink long enough to be called a slumber, let alone real sleep, since the night before. Her eyes were red and heavy with exhaustion, but the caffeine from last night’s coffee still buzzed in her veins, pushing her body forward even as her mind faltered.She pa
Chapter Seven Acknowledgment.
Lucas sat at the dining table in the vacation house in Jamaica, the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore offering a peace he couldn't feel.He had been alone here for three days now. His personal assistant wasn’t around—he was back in Velmoria—but they had stayed in contact through frequent phone calls.The only employees available at this vacation house were the chefs, the housekeepers, and the butler. Their presence kept the estate running smoothly. Yet emotionally, Lucas may have chosen this place, but it still felt like an island—quiet, beautiful, and painfully lonely.At exactly 8:45 AM—Jamaica being eight hours ahead of Velmoria—Lucas sipped his morning coffee, letting the warmth settle in his chest as he sat at the table. The aroma filled the open-air kitchen, rich and grounding.He brought out his phone and placed it beside his cup, then began scrolling through Instagram—more out of habit than interest.The heartbreak still throbbed within him, dull and steady, like a bru
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