Chapter 5: The Architect of Deceit
Isabella sat in the stark, concrete interrogation room, the fluorescent light buzzing overhead like an angry hornet. For the first time, her makeup was gone, revealing the sharp, desperate lines of a woman who had lost everything.
She wasn't alone. Detective Miller, a man with a reputation for being impossible to manipulate, tossed a tablet onto the table between them.
"You really thought the hotel security was the only thing you had to worry about?" Miller asked, pulling up a chair.
Isabella forced a laugh, though it lacked the icy bite it once possessed. "I want my lawyer."
"Your lawyer dropped you the moment the embezzlement charges were confirmed, Isabella," Miller countered. "He doesn't want to go down with a sinking ship. But here’s the interesting thing: we found logs from your private server. It seems you weren't just stealing from Marcus Thorne. You were tracking his movements for someone else."
Isabella’s breath hitched.
"Who were you working for?" Miller pressed, leaning in. "Because according to these encrypted messages, the kick in the hospital wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision. It was a contract. You were told to ensure that child never made it to term."
The room went cold. Isabella’s facade cracked, just for a second. Fear, raw and unadulterated, flickered in her eyes. It wasn't the fear of prison. It was the fear of what would happen to her if she talked.
"You don't understand," she whispered, her voice trembling. "He... he isn't just a business rival. He’s a shadow. If I say a name, I won't survive the night in this cell."
Outside the room, behind the two-way mirror, Marcus watched, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. He had thought this was a domestic betrayal, a jealous lover’s spite. He hadn't realized he had been hosting a spy in his home for years.
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"She’s terrified," Daniel Carter murmured beside him. "Marcus, this goes higher than any corporate merger. If someone wanted your bloodline erased, it’s not just about the money anymore. It’s about a throne you didn't even know you were competing for."
Marcus turned away from the glass. His eyes were no longer those of a billionaire grieving a loss—they were the eyes of a man who had decided to go to war. "Get me every contact I have in intelligence," he commanded. "If she’s scared of them, I want to be the thing they fear more."
