The world held its breath.
A single drop of sweat slid down Isabelle's spine as the weight of her words settled over the crowd. The security team hesitated, glancing between her and Eleanor Abel, whose porcelain smile had turned to frost.
"Majority shareholder?" Eleanor's laugh was sharp enough to cut glass. "Don't be absurd, Isabelle. You own twenty percent. That doesn't give you—"
"It does if the other thirty-one percent backs me."
A murmur rippled through the gathered workers and press. Robert Abel stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "Isabelle," he said, voice low. "Think very carefully about your next move."
She didn't blink. "I have."
Then tires screeched.
Three black town cars rolled up, and out stepped Victor Lao, Abel Development's largest silent investor, flanked by two others Isabelle recognized from board meetings. Victor adjusted his glasses, nodding at her before turning to Robert.
"We've reviewed the safety reports," he said, voice calm but firm. "And the eviction records. The board will be voting on an emergency halt to Phase Two."
Eleanor's champagne flute slipped from her fingers, shattering on the asphalt.
Avery hadn't moved, his grip still tight on the wrench, but his eyes—God, his eyes—burned into hers like she was the only real thing in this nightmare.
ONE HOUR LATER
The Lawson house still stood.
Isabelle paced the empty conference room of Abel Development, her phone buzzing incessantly with messages from her mother, her father's lawyers, the press. She ignored them all.
The door creaked open.
She expected Victor. Or her father.
Instead, Avery stood there, his shirt still streaked with dirt and dried blood from the crane accident, his father's wrench hanging loosely at his side.
They stared at each other.
"You called the board," he said finally.
"I had to."
"Why?"
The question hung between them, raw and unfiltered. Isabelle exhaled. *"Because you were right. About all of it."*
Avery stepped forward, his boots scuffing the polished floor. "This doesn't fix anything. Not really."
"I know."
"They'll come after you now."
She almost smiled. "Let them."
Avery took another step forward, close enough that Isabelle could see the flecks of gold in his storm-gray eyes. The scent of motor oil and earth clung to him, so different from the sweet perfume of her world.
"You're really doing this," he murmured, searching her face. "Throwing away your empire for a bunch of nobodies."
Her throat tightened. "Not for them." She hesitated, then forced the truth out. "For you."
Avery went still. His hand reaching for hers—just a whisper of contact, but it sent a current through her. "That's a damn stupid trade, Abel."
"Yeah," she whispered. "But you're the one who taught me stupid."
His breath hitched. For a heartbeat, she thought he might—
Then the door burst open. Victor Lao cleared his throat. "Isabelle. The press is waiting."
Avery pulled back, but not before she saw it—the way his gaze dropped to her lips. The unspoken "this isn't over" burning between them.
---
THAT NIGHT
The news broke.
ABEL HEIRESS SIDES WITH PROTESTERS. BOARD FREEZES DEMOLITION
SAFETY SCANDAL ROCKS ABEL DEVELOPMENT
Isabelle sat on the floor of her penthouse, her phone powered off, the city lights blurring outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.
A knock at the door.
She didn't answer.
It opened anyway.
Finn stood there, his hands shoved in his pockets, his face still bruised from the protests. "Avery's too proud to come," he said. "But he wanted you to have this."
He tossed her something small and metallic.
A key.
"To the orchard shed," Finn said. "In case you need a place to hide."
Then he was gone.
Isabelle clutched the key, her chest tight.
Isabelle shouldn't have come.