Chapter 7: The Devil's Bargain
Isabella's wrists were raw from the zip ties by the time Lucas Reeves entered the room. The Sterling Industries' Head of Security moved with lethal grace, his expensive suit failing to disguise the predator beneath. His silver pinky ring—identical to Alexander's—caught the fluorescent light as he circled her chair.
"You're a difficult woman to kill, Ms. Whittaker." His voice was surprisingly soft, almost gentle.
"Not for lack of trying," Isabella replied, keeping her voice steady despite the fear churning in her gut. "The cabin. That was you with the detonator."
Lucas smiled thinly. "A convincing performance, wasn't it? Though not as convincing as yours has been." He nodded toward the monitors showing Alexander with Thomas. "He actually believes you care about him."
"What makes you think I don't?"
"Because you're Edward Sterling's most carefully cultivated asset." Lucas pulled up a chair, sitting uncomfortably close. "Daughter of his accountant. Positioned perfectly to infiltrate Alexander's life when the time was right."
Isabella kept her expression neutral, though her mind raced. Everyone seemed to believe she was part of some grand design—Alexander, Vivian, and now Lucas. But whose?
"If I'm such a valuable asset, why am I tied to a chair?"
"Insurance." Vivian entered tablet in hand. "The board meeting has been moved up again. Six hours from now."
Lucas checked his watch. "Edward needs to be on a plane in thirty minutes if he's going to make it."
"He's not going," Vivian replied. "The medical team has advised against travel. His condition deteriorated after the excitement of seeing his grandson."
Isabella filed this information away. Edward was genuinely ill, not just playing frail.
"Then we proceed with Plan B." Lucas turned back to Isabella. "Which is where you come in."
"I'm not helping you," Isabella said firmly.
"Not even to save Alexander?" Lucas gestured to the monitor where guards were now separating Alexander from Thomas, the CEO's face contorted in rage as the infant was carried away. "Or the child?"
Isabella's resolve wavered. "What do you want?"
"Your cooperation." Vivian placed a legal document before her. "Edward needs a proxy at the board meeting. Someone the board trusts. Someone with apparent loyalty to Alexander, but actual loyalty to Edward."
"They'd never accept me as Alexander's proxy."
"They will when Alexander himself names you." Lucas nodded to another monitor, where Alexander was now being escorted to what looked like an interrogation room. "He's about to make a very persuasive video."
Isabella swallowed hard. "And if I refuse?"
Lucas leaned in, his cologne failing to mask the metallic scent that clung to him. Blood. "Then I'll personally ensure the Sterling bloodline ends today."
Isabella met his gaze, searching for any hint of bluff. Finding none, she nodded once.
"Cut her loose," Vivian instructed. "Our plane leaves in twenty minutes."
As the zip ties fell away, Isabella rubbed her wrists, mind calculating possibilities. "I want to see Claire first."
"That wasn't part of—" Lucas began.
"Five minutes," Vivian interrupted. "Supervised. Then we go."
Isabella was escorted down sterile hallways to a medical suite where Claire lay connected to monitors. Her burns had been treated, but her complexion remained ghost-white against the hospital sheets. She stirred as Isabella approached.
"You came," Claire whispered, her voice raspy from smoke inhalation.
Isabella glanced at the guard hovering by the door, then leaned close to Claire. "They're using Thomas to control Alexander."
Claire's grip on Isabella's hand was surprisingly strong. "Don't trust anyone. Especially not—" She broke off as Lucas entered.
"Time's up," he announced.
Claire's eyes darted to Lucas, then back to Isabella. With trembling fingers, she pressed something small and hard into Isabella's palm—a microchip, no larger than a grain of rice.
"Find Marina," Claire whispered. "At the lighthouse."
Before Isabella could respond, Lucas pulled her away.
In the hallway, Lucas studied her with calculating eyes. "Touching reunion."
Isabella met his gaze evenly. "If you hurt her—"
"Ms. Whittaker," Lucas interrupted, "contrary to what you might believe, I'm not the villain in this story." He gestured for her to precede him. "I'm simply the man who cleans up the messes."
---
The Sterling corporate jet streaked through darkening skies, carrying Isabella, Vivian, and Lucas back to New York. Isabella stared at the satellite phone Lucas had placed before her.
"Make the call," Lucas instructed. "Convince Alexander's allies on the board that you're coming as his representative."
Isabella dialed the number she knew by heart—Alexander's closest friend and board member, James Harrington.
"James, it's Isabella," she said when he answered. "I need your help. It's about Alexander."
"Isabella! Jesus, where are you? The news is reporting you were in some kind of explosion—"
"I'm fine," she interrupted. "But Alexander isn't. He's found Claire and the baby, but he's... compromised. He's naming me as his proxy for tomorrow's meeting."
A pause. "That's highly irregular. The board won't—"
"The board will," Isabella said firmly, channeling the steel she'd observed in Vivian, "if they want to prevent a PR nightmare involving Edward Sterling's secret grandson and a cover-up of industrial murders."
Another pause, longer this time. "What do you need?"
"Your vote. And the Cohen brothers. I'll explain everything tomorrow, but you need to trust me. Alexander trusts me."
After she hung up, Lucas nodded approvingly. "Very convincing."
"I learned from the best," Isabella replied, meeting Vivian's gaze across the cabin.
As night fell and Lucas dozed in his seat, Vivian moved to sit beside Isabella.
"You remind me of myself," Vivian said quietly. "Before I understood what Edward was building."
"A dynasty built on murder?"
"A legacy that transcends conventional morality." Vivian's eyes were distant. "Edward recognized something in me when I was younger than you—the capacity to serve a greater purpose."
"You're his daughter," Isabella said. "Not just his experiment."
Vivian's smile was sad. "I'm both. As is Evelyn. As Alexander would have been, had he inherited the right genetic markers."
Isabella's blood ran cold. "And Thomas?"
"The most promising candidate yet." Vivian checked to ensure Lucas was still sleeping. "But not the only one."
As if on cue, Isabella's phone vibrated with a text from an unknown number:
*Safe house compromised. E moving Thomas to a secondary location. Lighthouse protocol activated. —E*
Isabella kept her expression neutral as she deleted the message. Evelyn was alive and moving independently of Edward's plan. But could she be trusted?
"Get some rest," Vivian advised, returning to her seat. "Tomorrow will require all your faculties."
Isabella closed her eyes, fingers closing around the microchip Claire had given her. Whatever game was being played, she was now a pawn moving across multiple chessboards.
But pawns, she reminded herself, could become queens