Chapter 4

Isabella Moretti, the IT department’s most respected manager, walked me through the building for a quick tour. Halfway down the hall, her secretary trailed after us with a notebook in hand, ready to scribble down instructions. Isabella didn’t even glance back. She lifted one hand, a simple gesture, and the secretary froze before quietly retreating.

That alone made my suspicion sharpen.

I tucked my hands into my pockets, letting her go ahead. “So, this is where all the money goes?” I asked with full sarcasm.

“Not quite.” Isabella pushed open a door using her ID badge. The room beyond glowed with rows of wide monitors, each alive with lines of code streaming in different basic languages that I’m familiar with.

“I would appreciate it if you stopped playing tourist.” Her voice was cold as ice. “This is the core of our department, every data, process, and log is stored here.” She announced.

I wasn’t listening. Instead, when Isabella turned the corner, I “accidentally” nudged over a swivel chair with my knee. It rolled straight across the polished floor towards her direction.

And just like I suspected, she didn’t flinch. She only turned around and stopped the chair using her right hand.

She looked at me with a faint curve on her lips. “What a clumsy guy.”

I raised a brow, smirking. “Clumsy? You caught that chair like you’ve been training for it.”

“Or maybe,” she countered, setting the chair neatly back in place. “You just don’t know how to walk without making a mess.”

Her tone was polite, but I caught the edge beneath it. She wanted me to stop, but I was just getting started. 

When we circled back toward our workstations, I let my eyes wander across the desks. Papers stacked high. Push pins are exposed on the far edge. There are too many chances, and ignoring them would be a waste.

I brushed past a desk and let my elbow clip the corner of stacked folders. It began with one folder, followed by another, imitating a domino. 

Before the first page could flutter free, Isabella was already there. Her hand snapped out, catching the top folder. Her other hand steadied the second. With a swift twist of her wrist, she pressed the leaning pile upright, restoring order before gravity could finish the job.

She neatly placed the folders back on the desk, her fingers lingering long enough to square the edges.

But I didn’t stop. An employer walked past us. I stepped aside at the right moment and let my shoulder brush against his to fake an accident. Not hard. Just enough.

Isabella turned in at the right moment and braced the man’s arm to steady him. It was so smooth and natural that he barely realized he had been saved from a messy embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” I acted sweetly.

The young man blinked rapidly, his face flushing red. “No wo-worries!” 

He then turned to Isabella. “Th-thank you, Ms. Moretti.” The man laughed nervously and walked off without knowing what had just happened.

I watched him go, then turned back to her with a smirk. “You’re good at dodging, Moretti. A little too good.” 

“And you’re too observant for someone who claims to be here just for IT support.”

The rest of the day dragged on. Isabella spent hours explaining what my daily tasks would eventually be, though apparently, I wouldn’t officially start until tomorrow. Instead, she assigned me to clean and organize the storage room full of hard files.

Too bad, it was about as challenging as taking out a sleeping target.

By the time the clock struck six, I was already out of the building. My feet immediately carried me downtown, straight to the bar where the handler took me last time.

He was there, of course. I was sure he’d been expecting me. That same smirk tugged at his lips, the kind that said he always knew more than he let on.

I slid into the seat and leaned forward. “Who the hell is Isabella Moretti?” 

The handler just swirled his glass of whiskey and grinned. “And here I thought you wouldn’t notice.”

I placed both of my hands on the table and leaned in. “Who wouldn’t notice that? That woman isn’t normal! Nobody in a damn office has reflexes like they’ve been targeted left and right their whole lives.” 

He chuckled, shaking his head slowly. “Sharp as ever, Russo. You know why I put you in that company now, right?”

I frowned. “You could have gone straight to the point.” 

He slid another folder across the table.

I stared at it, half expecting a photograph of Isabella Moretti, wearing her corporate attire and professional smile. To my surprise,  it was nothing like the manager I had followed the whole day. 

I was greeted by a grainy picture of her wearing an all-black outfit, with a hood pulled low over her head and two daggers in her hand. Despite her angelic face, her eyes remain lethal. 

“Your target,” the handler said casually. “Eliminate Isabella Moretti.”

I leaned back in my chair, jaw tight.

He leaned forward, tapping the photo with a single finger. “You’ve seen the reflexes for yourself. She’s not just an IT manager. She’s the sole heir of the Moretti clan, known for their swift yet silent executions. What we don’t know yet is why she is pretending to be a normal worker. She’s playing disguise, Russo. Same as you.”

So, this is who she truly is, huh?

Well then, let the games begin.