Chapter Four

Isabella’s POV

The days after the will reading did not allow space for quiet grief because the company did not pause.

By the second morning I was back at headquarters and sitting at the head of the boardroom table where my grandfather had sat for decades and the weight of the seat felt heavier than I expected though I did not show it.

Board members avoided direct eye contact at first and some offered careful condolences while others skipped that formality and moved straight into performance reports and pending contracts.

Daniel arrived late.

He apologized with a tone that suggested he was doing me a favor by being present at all and then he took his seat at the far end of the table and watched me as if waiting for a mistake.

We moved through the agenda efficiently and I kept my voice steady while I outlined projected expansions and restructuring plans that my grandfather and I had already discussed months ago.

Halfway through the meeting one of the senior board members cleared his throat.

“With everything that has happened recently,” he began carefully, “perhaps we should consider appointing an interim oversight committee to support you during this transition.”

Support.

I looked at him.

“Do you believe I require supervision,” I asked.

“No,” he replied quickly. “but you might need a second opinion during a sensitive period.”

Daniel leaned back in his chair.

“We must acknowledge that Isabella has endured significant personal strain,” he said smoothly. “Losing her grandfather and ending an engagement in such public fashion could affect one's decision.”

The room shifted.

There it was. The first attack.

I folded my hands together on the table.

“My personal life has never interfered with quarterly profits,” I said. “If you have concerns about my performance, back them up with data.”

Silence followed.

No one had numbers to challenge me.

Daniel frowned, disappointed that his plan had not worked.

Over the next week I noticed subtle changes.

Two board members cancelled private meetings with me before schedule.

One investor postponed a lunch he had previously insisted on.

At the same time Liam came back from gid know where.

More of a headache than good news. 

Liam has always been a creep, I remembered one time during a holiday, where he tried to grope me in the kiddies pool.

My grandfather had given him the discipline of his life but that didn't deter his advances.

The first gift arrived on my desk Monday morning.

White roses. What is this? A funeral?

I stared at them for a long moment before calling reception.

“Who authorized this delivery,” I asked.

“Mr Liam Kingston requested access,” the receptionist replied hesitantly. “He said you were expecting it.”

By Wednesday he appeared in person.

I was walking out of the elevator when I saw him leaning against the reception desk wearing a suit that cost more than he could ever earn in his lifetime.

“Bella,” he said with a smile as if we were already engaged.

“Do not call me that,” I replied.

He straightened and stepped closer.

“I thought we should talk about what my father suggested,” he said. “It makes sense for both of us.”

“For you,” I corrected.

“For the family,” he countered. “You know how these things work.”

“I am not marrying you.”

“You say that now,” he said lightly. “But you will see that it is the most practical choice.”

I stepped around him.

“You are confusing practicality with selfishness.”

He laughed under his breath. “You always did have a mouth on you. When we get married that's going to change.”

I ignored him as I pressed the elevator button. The doors closed between us and I exhaled slowly.

Daniel’s plan was simple.

Apply pressure.

Undermine my credibility.

Present Liam as stability.

I understood it clearly and I understood something else as well.

If I refused to marry and allowed time to pass Daniel would gain legal authority to choose for me.

I needed a solution that removed his leverage entirely.

A husband of my own choosing.

The idea settled in my mind quietly at first and then with increasing clarity.

If the condition required a legal spouse then the identity of that spouse was my only weapon.

I did not need romance. I needed control over my life choices.

By the end of that week I had made another decision so much workload I was drowning in them.

I need  a new executive assistant.

Fred had served my grandfather faithfully for years but his loyalty to the old structure made him a target and I needed someone who answered directly to me and no one else.

Human resources scheduled interviews for Friday afternoon.

The first candidate entered with visible nerves and avoided my gaze while reciting rehearsed lines.

“What would you do,” I asked, “if I instructed you to cancel a contract that promised short term profit but damaged long term leverage.”

He blinked. “I would follow your instructions.”

“Without questioning it?”

“Yes.”

“Then you would be useless to me,” I said.

He left quickly.

The second candidate attempted to charm me and complimented my dress three times within five minutes.

“What distinguishes you from the previous applicants,” I asked.

“I am loyal,” she said.

“To whom,” I replied.

“To you.”

“Loyalty without independent judgment is not loyalty,” I said. “It is a dependency.”

She did not know how to respond.

Several more followed with similar patterns.

Fear.

Overcompensation.

By the time the last name on the schedule approached I was tired of this.

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” I said.

He entered without hesitation. He was tall and composed.

For a second I thought I had seen him before.

He closed the door behind him and walked to the chair across from my desk without waiting to be told.

“Good morning, ma’am. My name is Elion Dawson,” he said.

His voice was even and steady.

“You are aware this position requires long hours and discretion,” I said.

“Yes.”

“And you would be requested to do things you don't want to do.”

“Yes.”

“You do not seem nervous.”

“I am not,” he replied.

“Why.”

“Because you are hiring an assistant not recruiting for the military.”

I studied him.

“Why do you want this job,” I asked.

“For experience.,” he said.

“With what?.”

“With how power functions at the highest level. I plan to start a company of my own one day.”

“That is an unusual answer.”

“I leaned back slightly.

“If I make a decision you believe is flawed,” I asked, “what will you do?”

“I will tell you,” he said without pause.

“And if I tell you to go ahead regardless.”

“Then I will execute the decision as instructed.”

“Why.”

“Because disagreement does not equal disloyalty and final authority still belongs to you.”

For the first time in days I felt something other than pressure.

Curiosity.

““Do you know who I am?”

“Yes.”

“And.”

“And that does not change the job description.”

Silence settled between us though it did not feel strained.

“You are aware,” I said, “that working for me will involve navigating family conflict.”

“I assumed as much.”

He was either perceptive or he did his homework before coming here 

“Do you often analyze your employers before being hired,” I asked.

“I analyze situations around me," he replied.

A small pause followed.

“You start Monday,” I said.

He did not smile.

“Understood.”

“Report at seven.”

“I will be here at six forty five.”

He stood and walked toward the door then paused.

“When the door closed I remained seated for a moment.

I did not know why I hired him so quickly and I did not know whether instinct or calculation guided the decision.

But I knew this.

The clock toward my twenty seventh birthday was still ticking and Daniel believed he had limited my choices.

He was wrong.

Because I had just added a new variable to the equation.