The morning sun crept over the estate, but inside the North Polson house, no one felt its warmth. Around the long breakfast table, unease lingered like a storm cloud. My uncle had made his move last night, and today he would step into the shareholder meeting with one goal: to crown himself president of the North Polson Company.
Giovanni leaned forward, his voice steady but troubled.
"How can we win back the company? We should talk to the lawyer first. That's the only way we'll know where we stand."
Avila shook his head, grim and certain.
"The lawyer isn't answering. It's like he's vanished—we can't reach him at all."
Marco exhaled sharply, frustration carved into his face.
"So what do we do? Sit here and wait for our downfall?"
Luca's fists tightened.
"I heard some people saying Uncle already spread word that Father is dead—and you too, Isa."
I laughed, the sound breaking the tension for a moment.
"He really thinks that? Maybe he believes his plan worked last time. Good. Let's give him a shock he won't forget."
Dante's gaze fixed on me, sharp and probing.
"What's your plan, Isa?"
I smiled faintly.
"Nothing complicated, big brother. First, let's see what he does at the meeting. When the time is right—we strike."
Later that morning, I slipped into a hidden security room, the monitors flickering with live feeds of the boardroom. Every word inside echoed through the speakers.
Nathan leaned forward, calm but calculating.
"I believe the best candidate to take over as president is not Andrew North Polson. The wiser choice would be one of his sons. They are young, capable, and would give this company a future. One of them should take the lead as CEO."
The name clicked in my memory. Nathan My Dad trusted man.
My uncle's voice cut the air, sharp and venomous.
"No. None of those boys are blood. They are not Richmond's real sons—they were adopted. They have no claim."
My blood boiled, but before I could react, Dante's voice struck like steel.
"So you think blood alone makes you worthy? You think age gives you power? You're too old, Andrew. Too bitter. Maybe it's time you stop pretending you can lead anything."
Uneasy laughter rippled through the room, but Andrew only grew darker.
"You don't understand. I don't want this for myself. I want my son to take his rightful place. He is more fit to control this company than any of you will ever be."
Dante's voice sliced through the silence.
"Which son, Andrew?"
Andrew's eyes narrowed.
"You know him well. Eric."
The name jolted me. Eric… familiar, but distant. I could almost recall him, but the memory slipped away like smoke.
A voice behind me broke my thoughts.
"Go inside, Isa."
That was enough. My pulse thundered as I pushed open the door and stepped into the boardroom.
The room froze. Andrew's face drained of color, his jaw slack as if he had seen a ghost.
I smirked.
"Hi, Uncle. Did you miss me? Or were you too busy planning how to bury me?"
He stammered, his voice trembling.
"H-how… how are you still here?"
Behind me, my brothers stood silent but strong .
"Sorry to disappoint you," I said coldly. "But those men you called useless? They're my brothers. They are my power. Next time, try harder."
Andrew's hand shook, but he spat his last weapon.
"Your father is dead. There is no will. Without it, you cannot claim anything. That leaves only two men who can lead this empire—me and my son. Even if you are alive, Isabella, you'll start from nothing."
I tilted my head, mocking him with a slow clap.
"Oh no, Uncle. How careless of me. My father didn't leave us a thing? Just abandoned us? That doesn't sound like him… does it?"
Whispers stirred among the shareholders. Doubt crept in.
Then, the doors opened.
A hush swept the room as Richmond North Polson—my father—was wheeled in, his assistant at his side. His very presence shattered Andrew's illusion.
Andrew's face went white.
I rushed to my father, gasping theatrically.
"Father, how could you leave us nothing? How could you abandon us?"
He chuckled softly.
"Enough, Isabella. You always did know how to play a scene."
Then his voice hardened, thunder filling the room.
"As long as I am alive, nothing changes. I will choose the next president. But for now, this meeting is over."
His gaze locked on Andrew, merciless.
"And you—my brother. Neither you nor your son will take one thing from this family. As our father's last wish, this company remains with us. This is your final warning. Push me again, and you won't walk away so easily."
The shareholders shifted nervously, some nodding, others whispering. The power had shifted—back to us.
Andrew's face turned crimson, his whole body trembling. He slammed the table, then stormed out of the room, rage boiling with every step.
Outside, in the shadowed hall, Andrew pulled out his phone, his voice a venomous whisper.
"It's time. Come home."
No one heard him but the walls. Yet I knew, deep down, he was planning something.
We left soon after. As we drove home, I asked Dad about his health. He answered softly, then drifted into sleep, his body still weak.
"Dad," Dante said quietly, leaning forward. "I'll need to head back to the office. There's a deal I've been working on. If it goes through, we'll gain the connections we need. That's the only way to make sure Andrew can't block us again."
My father nodded slowly, his voice rough but steady.
"You're right, son. We can't fight him with power alone. Build those alliances. Make the deal happen. But remember—Andrew won't stay silent. He'll move again, and when he does, we must be ready."
"I know," Dante replied firmly. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it."
He turned to me.
"You need rest, Isa. Let me handle this. Uncle will come back harder, but we'll be ready next time."
I wanted to argue, but I only nodded. His words were true.
At a red light, my eyes drifted outside. Across the road, near the bus stop, stood a man. The way he held himself—the shoulders, the tilt of his head—it struck me like lightning.
Sky.
It felt like him. My chest tightened. What would he be doing here? How could he even find this place?
I leaned closer, trying to see more clearly. But just as I focused, the car moved, and the figure vanished into the blur of traffic and people.
Maybe it was just my imagination. Maybe it was only someone who looked like him.
"Yes," I whispered to myself. "It couldn't be him."
I closed my eyes, carrying the image with me. When we reached home, I went straight to my room. Thoughts of him tangled in my mind until, at last, sleep pulled me under.