Chapter 3 - Guilty as charged

As I return to my penthouse I lock the door behind me and exhale, pulling off my heels and setting them neatly by the wall. My hands are steady now. My face has returned to neutral.

I move to the kitchen and slide open the middle drawer. Beneath the cutlery tray, I lift the false bottom and pull out the folder I’ve studied every night for three years.

Blueprints. Witness statements. Altered records. Surveillance footage.

And photos.

One of Jackson, holding a rolled-up set of designs, laughing with someone off-frame. The day before the collapse. My throat tightens.

I flip to the employee files. A red pen has circled several names.

Lucas Ashford.

Derek Ashford.

Benjamin Lockwood

Mark Duke – Senior Site Manager.

Clara Hale – Executive Assistant.

I circle Clara’s name again, this time pressing harder.

She was supposedly the last person to handle the site inspection report. She must have seen whose signature was on the papers, yet she claimed Jackson gave them to her unsigned, told her not to worry about anything and she simply let it go. That was a lie, I knew my brother. He had a habit of doodling his initials on the side of the pages he worked on. That was the first giveaway I needed to know that papers were never handed by him.

“You’re where I’ll start,” I whisper.

Just then, a knock at the door.

I freeze.

No one knows I’m here. No one should.

Another knock, louder this time.

I slip the file back into its hiding place, covering it flawlessly before walking softly to the door.

“Miss Sterling?” a voice calls. Male. Friendly. Too friendly. “I’m with Ashford Global. Mr. Ashford asked me to deliver something you forgot.”

Derek? It can't be Lucas.

I look through the peephole. A courier. Jacket branded with Ashford’s logo. Flowers in his hand. Its Derek.

I crack the door just wide enough. “Thank you,” I say as I take the flowers and close the door. I lock the door, engage the deadbolt, and tear the little envelope from inside.

Inside, a single piece of paper.

Typed: Wellcome. Derek Ashford.

But the flowers mean more, he sees it as a way in, an opening. As if it's going to be that easy.

I let the flowers down on the table near the door while throwing the note in a nearby trash bin before returning to the living room, grabbing the phone hidden in the statue.

I sit down and begin a video call.

"Caio Katy," Valerie answers.

"It's Isabella, now. It's important you remember that well." I tell her, it took me some time to get Isabella under my skin, I can't have the old me creep out from the shadows.

"Sorry. How are you? How did it go today?" She asks.

"It went well... it was a good start. But I dont want to talk about that, where is Jackson?" My son wears the name of my brother. At the time it seemed only fitting.

"He is playing in the garden with my mother. He misses you." And I miss him, but this is just how things have to be for now. "Do you want me to get him?"

"No, let him play. It's only going to be harder from here. It's best if he gets used to the fact I'll be away for a while. I'll give him some time then reach out. Just... keep me updated. Every day. I don’t want to miss a thing.”

"I will." She says then takes a pause."

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing, I'm just... this doesn't have to be your life you know? You can still back out of that plan. Be here with your son." I thought about it a lot, and the more I thought about it the more I realized I would never be able to be free of the torment until I saw these people pay and lose everything, just like Jackson did.

"Valerie, I'm not changing my mind. Especially now that I have a way into their lives. Do you know how it feels to have them so close, as they pretend they are perfect in their perfect little lives when I know just how rotten they really are?" I ask as the rage starts bubbling inside of me.

"He is the father of your child. Isa..."

"Jackson doesn't have a father, he doesn't need one. He has me." Even if I can't be there right now.

Valerie doesn’t speak for a moment. I watch her face shift, worry, conflict, something close to regret. But she nods, because she’s loyal, and loyalty is something I can still count on.

“Alright,” she finally says. “But promise me one thing.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Depends what it is.”

"Promise me you won't lose your conscience, or your soul in the process. Watch how far you take this. Ok?" As far as it takes.

"I promise." But do I? "I need to go now, there are still quite some things to do around here. Kiss Jackson for me."

"I will." She says.

"Ciao."

"Ciao."

The silence in the penthouse wraps around me again. I rise, slowly, and move back toward the bookcase. I pull a shelf towards me and behind it rises a gun. Small caliber, enough to protect myself. Just in case.

The portaphone rings and I close the shelf back in its place before going to answer it.

"Yes."

"Miss Sterling, sorry to disturb you but there is a delivery downstairs for you. If you dont mind coming down to sign for it." The man asks.

"I'll be right there," I say as I end the call.

I walk into the elevator and travel down, the lobby is quiet. Too quiet for this hour, a high-rise in the middle of the city. A single concierge glances up as I step out of the elevator, his eyes giving nothing away. He nods toward the security desk where the delivery boy sets down one of my numeral moving boxes.

"Where do I need to sign?" I ask, smiling, looking all too approachable. The delivery boy hands me a small tablet.

“Right here, ma’am,” he says, tapping the screen. I sign, deliberately slow as the man I chose for this building walks in. Black suit, a phone to his ear as he walks slowly and heads for the concierge.

"Thank you," I say to the delivery boy and send him off I turn around and let out a loud breath of air as I look at all the boxes before taking one in hand.

"Do you need some help with that?" I hear a voice behind me so I slowly turn to face him.

"Oh its fine. It will take me a few drives with the elevator but Ill get it done." I say as I smile.

"You just moved in?" He asks.

"Yes. The penthouse on the ninth." I say.

"Oh, you moved in below me then." He says, a charming smile on his face as he runs his hand through his golden hair.

"So you are the one who took the roof access from me."

"Guilty as charged." So you are. "I am Benjamin Lockwood." He says as he offers me his hand and I set down the box to take it.

"Isabella Sterling." This close, I can see the faint lines around his eyes, the edge of weariness beneath the surface charm. You are the reason I'm here.

"Nice to meet you, Isabella," he says. “Though I’m surprised anyone took that penthouse. Most people find it too… exposed.”

I smile faintly. “I like the view.”

He chuckles softly. “Fair. It’s better from the top though.” He glances at the elevator. “You sure you don’t want a hand?”

I weigh it for half a second, then nod. “If you don’t mind.”

He scoops up the next box with casual ease, and we ride the elevator in silence, a charged one. I can almost hear the questions buzzing beneath his polite exterior. He doesn’t recognize me. Not yet.

The doors open. I unlock the penthouse and push it open.

“Wow,” he says, stepping just inside. “Nice layout.”

“Thanks,” I murmur, setting my box down near the wall. I gesture to his. “You can leave it there.”

He nods and places it down, looking around briefly, curiosity flickering behind his eyes. His gaze doesn’t linger long. He’s careful.

"So when is the housewarming party?" He asks.

"I'm not having one," I say, dragging the answer along. "I dont have any friends here yet... being new in the city and all."

"Oh that is not an excuse, and here... I'll be your new friend. Besides neighbors here love a good party. I'll spread the word."

I let out a soft laugh, carefully balancing the line between amused and dismissive. “That sounds like a threat.”

He grins. “Only if you make me beg for an invitation.”

I tilt my head, studying him. “Are you always this forward with your neighbors?”

“Only the ones who live beneath me,” he says, flashing that polished smile again, the kind that probably disarms most people before they even realize they’re being played.

I motion toward the door. “Well, neighbor, thank you for the help. As for the party, Friday night, how does that sound? It gives me enough time to settle in."

Benjamin’s eyebrows lift, surprised, but just for a second. Then that charming smile deepens, calculated but smooth.

“Friday night,” he repeats. “Sounds like the beginning of a very interesting friendship.”

"I think so myself," I say as we walk back to the elevator and he gets in.

"See you friday, neighbor."

"See you," I say as the door closes and the smile on my face immediately drops. Benjamin Lockwood. You were my brother's best friend, graduated together, the first one to turn his back on his for money and a prime position in the Ashords company, just not the one you were hoping for. That is why you still haven't heard about my name or my entry into the company. Because deep down you dont matter to them yet they can't dispose of you. You know things, and I'm going to find out just what it is.