Chapter 5 THE FIANCEE CLAUSE

The word fiancee detonated between them like a grenade.

Isabella stood frozen in the garage, headlights casting stark shadows across the concrete. Her heart was still racing from their escape. From the sex. From the lies. From everything she thought she was beginning to understand.

And then she appeared.

The woman was calm. Too calm. As if she'd rehearsed this moment. Her beauty was effortless-the kind of cold, cruel elegance that didn't flinch under fire.

"Who the hell is she?" Isabella demanded, voice sharp.

Grayson didn't move. Didn't even blink. "Her name is Vivienne Armand."

The woman-Vivienne-extended a perfectly manicured hand.

"I already introduced myself, darling," she said with a polished smile. "But I'll repeat it in case you were distracted. I'm his fiancée."

Isabella didn't take her hand. "This is a joke, right?"

Grayson's silence was answer enough.

Vivienne tilted her head. "Oh, honey. You didn't know?"

"You're engaged?" Isabella turned on him, every breath suddenly hard to take. "You've been sleeping with me for days and you're engaged?"

"It's not like that," Grayson said, jaw tight.

Vivienne laughed softly. "Of course it is."

"Why are you here, Viv?" Grayson asked, tone like glass. "We had an agreement."

"And you've broken it, evidently. She wasn't part of the arrangement."

Vivienne's eyes dragged over Isabella like she was something that had crawled up from the gutter.

"I'm not some secret to be arranged around," Isabella snapped.

Vivienne folded her arms. "Then I suggest you figure out what you are-because you're not his."

Grayson stepped between them. "Enough."

"No," Isabella said, backing away. "Let her talk. I want to hear it all."

Vivienne smirked. "Oh, it's simple. Our fathers struck a deal when we were kids. Merge the Langford fortune with the Armand empire. One heir. One unstoppable dynasty."

"So this is business," Isabella said.

"It's legacy," Vivienne corrected. "Grayson doesn't get his shares unless he marries me. Not fully. And with his father still holding the leash..."

Her words stabbed through Isabella like needles of ice.

"This was all a distraction," she whispered. "I was a distraction."

Grayson looked at her. "You were the only real thing in this fucking game."

"Then tell her to leave," Isabella said, eyes burning.

A pause.

Vivienne looked between them, amused.

Grayson's silence stretched.

Isabella took a shaky step back. "That's what I thought."

She turned.

"Izzy-"

But she was already storming toward the elevator.

The elevator doors shut with a hiss, but Isabella barely noticed the descent. Her mind was spinning too fast, her body still aching from his touch, from his lies.

How many women had he done this to?

How many secrets was he still hiding?

When the doors opened, she bolted out into the lobby, heels echoing. But she didn't make it more than three steps before a pair of thick arms blocked her path.

"Ms. Vega," the bodyguard said. "Mr. Langford would like a word."

Her breath caught.

"Which Mr. Langford?" she asked.

He didn't answer.

Instead, he opened the black town car parked at the curb.

Inside, Maximilian Langford sat like a spider at the center of a web.

"Get in, Ms. Vega."

She hesitated.

"I know where your mother is," he said softly.

Her world stopped.

She slid into the seat.

The door clicked shut.

Grayson stood in the garage, fists clenched. Vivienne was still lounging like she owned the damn city.

"You knew this would happen," he said.

Vivienne sighed. "I hoped it wouldn't. You always were a romantic underneath all that muscle and anger."

"You think this is funny?"

"I think it's tragic," she said. "You finally find someone you actually want, and your inheritance is what ruins it."

"She's not going to disappear," he said darkly.

Vivienne raised a brow. "You're going to fight for her?"

He stepped closer. "I'll burn this empire to the ground if it means I get to keep her."

Vivienne smiled. "That's what I wanted to hear."

He blinked.

She handed him a flash drive.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Insurance. My leverage. And possibly your salvation."

Grayson stared at it.

Vivienne leaned in. "You're not the only one who hates your father, Grayson. But if you want to keep your girl, you're going to need to take him down."

In the car, Maximilian watched Isabella like a lion watching its prey.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, voice shaking.

"I want to offer you an opportunity."

She laughed bitterly. "You already destroyed one woman in my family. Now you want to offer me something?"

His eyes glinted. "Your mother was clever. But she got too close. Started asking questions that weren't hers to ask."

"She vanished," Isabella said. "You did that."

"No. She vanished because she ran. Just like you're about to-unless you listen."

He slid a folder across the seat.

"What's this?"

"Proof. Of what your mother was trying to expose. And what your lover has kept from you."

She opened it slowly.

Photos. Documents. Bank transfers. Surveillance images of Grayson with people she didn't recognize-dark men in darker suits, money exchanges that looked more like drug deals.

"What is this?" she whispered.

"The parts of him he doesn't want you to see."

Her fingers trembled as she flipped through the pages.

A final photo-Grayson with her mother. Years ago.

He knew her.

Knew her mother.

Hadn't said a word.

"I can help you find her," Max said softly. "But you have to let him go."

---

Grayson burst into his penthouse, heart slamming.

But she was gone.

Only the faint scent of her perfume remained.

He ran a hand through his hair, the flash drive burning in his pocket.

Then he saw the folder on his bed.

He opened it.

His blood ran cold.

Vivienne had betrayed him.

Or maybe... not.

A post-it note was stuck to the last page.

"You'll need her trust back. Start by giving her the truth." - V

He grabbed his phone. Dialed Isabella.

Straight to voicemail.

Hours later, Isabella sat on the edge of a cheap hotel bed, folder beside her. The city lights blinked through dirty curtains. Everything felt surreal. Like she'd stepped into someone else's nightmare.

She replayed every moment. Every kiss. Every lie.

He knew her mother.

He knew. And he said nothing.

There was a knock at the door.

Her heart leapt-and crashed.

Grayson.

She opened the door slowly.

He stood there, rain-drenched, hair wild, eyes dark with something close to panic.

"I need to explain."

She opened her mouth-to slam the door. But something stopped her.

Instead, she stepped aside.

He walked in. Wet footprints on stained carpet.

She crossed her arms. "Start talking."

Grayson took a deep breath. "Your mother was a whistleblower. She discovered something at Langford Holdings. Money laundering. Blood contracts. Illegal arms buried in real estate deals. She came to me for help. I was young. Stupid. I didn't realize the target she'd painted on both of you."

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, voice raw.

"I was protecting you. I didn't want you dragged into this world. But then I saw you again. And it was too late. I was already in love."

Isabella's voice cracked. "So you used me?"

"No," he said, walking closer. "I never used you."

She didn't move.

His voice dropped. "I'm giving it all up. The inheritance. The company. Everything. For you."

Her eyes filled. "You don't know what you're saying."

He closed the gap between them.

"I know exactly what I'm saying."

He kissed her.

And she broke.

Mouth opening to him, hands tangling in his shirt. They fell back onto the bed, tearing at each other.

This wasn't soft.

It was desperate.

She stripped him down, nails dragging over his chest, biting his lower lip until he growled.

He flipped her beneath him, lifted her thigh and pushed into her hard, rough.

Their moans filled the tiny room.

She arched into him. "Harder, Grayson. Show me it's real."

He did.

Again. And again. Until she was sobbing his name and clawing at his back.

He whispered in her ear, voice shaking. "I'll never let them take you."

Her breath hitched. "Then don't stop. Don't ever stop."

But then,

Her phone lit up on the nightstand.

Unknown number.

A text.

She glanced.

And froze.