Chapter 1 The Door I Shouldn't Have Opened

(Isla's POV)

I should've ignored the doorbell. Should've left it ringing and kept stirring the damn pot. But I didn't. I wiped my hands on a dish towel and hurried across the marble floors of the Edinburgh mansion Lachlan insisted we live in-big, cold, perfect. Like him.

Dinner was half-cooked. My head? Miles away. I'd been thinking about the old days. Five years of marriage. Some of it good. Most of it... routine. But tonight felt different. Quiet. Like something was coming.

Then my phone buzzed. It was Fiona. I hadn't heard that name in a long time. "Hey, Isla. I'm on my way to your place. Just landed." I blinked. "What? Wait-right now?" "Can't wait to see you. It's been too long." I said excitedly.

The line cut. Just like that. Typical Fiona-no warning, no filter. But I smiled anyway. Minutes later, the doorbell rang again. And I opened it. There she was. Fiona Stewart. Blonde, glowing, suitcase in hand, smile that could sell a lie and make you thank her for it.

"Isla," she breathed. "Still gorgeous as hell." I laughed. "You look the same. Maybe hotter. God! It's really you." We hugged like we hadn't been ghosting each other for years. "Come in," I said, dragging her suitcase inside. "Ignore the mess. Well, not that there is one-Lachlan hates mess."

Her smile twitched. "Still the control freak?"

"Worse."

She followed me inside, eyes drifting across the polished interior like it was a museum. "This place is beautiful." She said. "Thanks bestie, it's a house he bought few years ago." She turned serious. "I wouldn't be here if I had anywhere else, Isla. Things... fell apart abroad and I lost my job. Lost everything, really." She mumbled as her eyes began to flood up with tears.

"You could've called." I snapped. "I was ashamed." Her voice cracked. I hated that sound on her and the tears in her eyes. Fiona wasn't built to break. She was the one who used to pull me out of the dark. I reached for her hand. "You're staying here. No questions."

"But what about-?"

"Lachlan?" I forced a smile. "I'll handle him." She nodded, relief softening her face. "Just a few weeks. I'll be invisible." I didn't believe that. Because Fiona I know had never been invisible a day in her life.

We sat on the couch chatting about the past, our individual accomplishments, and regrets. We joked, drank wine, and immediately got back in touch. She seemed to still know me better than everyone else, yet I kept staring at her, wondering how we had drifted apart for such a long time.

Until I heard the front door open. I froze.... Lachlan. He stepped inside, dark suit, colder eyes. Dropped his briefcase without looking at it. His gaze locked on Fiona. The air constricted, but his face remained unflinching.

"This is Fiona," I said carefully. "You remember her?" His nod was slow. Calculated. "Of course." He answered. "Hi, Lachlan," Fiona said, too sweet. "Been a while." "Sure has." His voice was dry. Dead. "Can I speak to you, Isla?"

I followed him into the dining room, heart already bracing. "How long?" he asked, eyes sharp. "She just arrived." I muttered. "I didn't ask when. I asked how long she's staying." I swallowed. "A few weeks. She needs a place." I said with a whisper. "We're not a hotel." He thundered. "Off curse you know she's my friend, Lachlan." I countered.

He ran his hand through his hair, jaw locked. "You should've asked." "But you would've said no."

"Exactly."

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "She has nowhere else." He didn't respond. Just stared, like he was trying to read something behind my eyes. Something I wasn't even sure was there. "She can stay a week," he said finally. "That's it."

I kissed him before he could say more. It was automatic, rehearsed and a kind of a peace offering. He kissed me back-but his eyes were still on Fiona. And that's when I knew.

I shouldn't have opened that door.