Chapter 4
After returning to his tent, Colton’s aide came to report.
The scout who had been lingering outside Isla’s quarters-he was gone.
Slipped away just minutes ago.
But Colton already had a good idea who the man worked for.
Anyone who would travel this far with a federal delegation, showing such particular interest in Isla, could only belong to
the Princess’s circle.
Princess Alexandra, only daughter of the King, was the nation’s treasured jewel-his last healthy child and his undeniable
favorite.
He had once publicly declared that half the Whitmore family’s private estate would be part of Alexandra’s dowry.
But marrying her meant far more than wealth.
If the King’s son-the presumed heir-didn’t make it, many believed Alexandra would become the country’s first female
head of state.
But no woman could hold the reins of power alone.
The man she married would.
Back in Raventon, every son of every elite family once dreamed of Isla Warren.
But they all planned to marry someone like Alexandra Whitmore.
Colton had been young and reckless when he first fell for Isla-entranced by her wit, her grace, her rare kind of purity.
But once her family fell from grace and she was cast aside, he realized something:
Why not have both?
Isla, now alone and powerless, didn’t need to be offered the title of wife.
She only needed him.
Six months ago, during a routine return to Raventon, Colton orchestrated a perfectly staged rescue on the Princess’s
security route-an ambush gone “wrong,” where he played the gallant savior. Alexandra had looked up at him, breathless
and awestruck.
The rest was easy.
She refused to marry anyone else.
He was named her fiancé and national war hero.
And Isla… stayed quiet and compliant.
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Still, Alexandra had been spoiled since birth. She had little patience for mistress.
She’d known about Isla Warren for a long time-and it had always bothered her.
But she never acted on it, not because she didn’t care, but because she didn’t stoop low enough to fight over a woman
like that.
But Colton wasn’t foolish. If he didn’t appear to treat Isla like a disposable plaything, Alexandra’s jealousy could grow
dangerous.
And Isla, still so proud, couldn’t walk into the Raventon and survive the social crossfire. She would inevitably offend the
princess.
A little time in The Holding Facility might humble her, Colton thought.
It would buy him time-time to marry the Princess, smooth things over, and bring Isla back once everything settled.
He’d already prepared the house on the outskirts of Raventon-an exact replica of Isla’s childhood estate.
He hadn’t told her.
It was meant to be a surprise.
Just like he said: “Marrying Alexandra won’t change my love you.”
That house would be theirs.
And the thought of Isla walking into that place, recognizing every detail-Colton found himself smiling.
But tonight…
Something about her had felt… off.
He couldn’t place it.
And it irritated him more than he wanted to admit.
He snapped his fingers.
“Logan.”
His aide stepped in immediately.
“When I leave,” Colton ordered, “keep her safe. The transfer to The Holding Facility is just for show. If anyone lays a finger on her-bring me their head.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And her injury?”
Colton sighed, rubbing his temple.
“Let it go. If we’re putting on a performance, we might as well commit. A little suffering might do her good.”
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He waved the man away and turned back to the stack of paperwork on his desk.
A junior officer entered, holding a thick red folder.
“Sir,” he said. “Marriage affidavits from the enlisted men and military prostitute. They need your signature to be certified.”
Colton barely glanced at it before scoffing under his breath.
Some men were actually marrying those women?
Pathetic.
He tossed his approval stamp across the table without a second thought.
“Stamp them yourself,” he muttered. “I’m not wasting my time on this.”
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