Chapter Ten: The Woman Named Isabella (Part two)

The Billionaire's Contract Bride

The grand staircase of Blackwood Estate had never felt so long.

Claire hurried behind Ethan, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

Every instinct told her that something had changed.

When they reached Martin's private office, security officers were already dusting shelves and scanning the room.

The massive oak door hung slightly open, its electronic lock blinking red.

Martin stood near the large mahogany desk, his expression unreadable.

"Claire."

"You wanted to see me?"

He nodded.

"I wanted you to hear this from me."

One of the security experts approached.

"Mr. Blackwood."

"We've finished our preliminary inspection."

Martin folded his arms.

"What did you find?"

"The intruder ignored the safe."

"They ignored the jewelry collection."

"They ignored the cash."

Claire frowned.

"So... what were they looking for?"

The investigator placed a leather file on the desk.

"This cabinet was forced open."

Martin looked inside.

Empty.

The investigator continued.

"The only item missing..."

"...is the original investigation file into Jacobs International."

Claire felt the blood drain from her face.

"They stole my family's file?"

Martin nodded slowly.

"Which means someone is afraid of what's inside."

The room fell silent.

For the first time, Claire realized her family's bankruptcy wasn't simply a failed investment.

Someone had planned it.

Martin dismissed everyone except Ethan and Claire.

As the office quieted, he walked to the window overlooking the city.

"There is something I've never told you."

Claire waited.

"I started investigating your family long before we met."

She stared at him.

"What?"

He turned to face her.

"Three years ago, my grandfather asked me to quietly examine the collapse of Jacobs International."

"Why?"

"Because he believed it didn't make sense."

Martin picked up an old photograph from his desk.

"My grandfather and your grandfather built their first companies together."

Claire's eyes widened.

"They knew each other?"

"They were friends."

She had never heard that before.

"My grandfather never spoke about the Blackwoods."

Martin nodded.

"Neither did mine."

"Someone made sure both families stayed apart."

Claire whispered,

"Why?"

Martin's answer was immediate.

"Because divided families never compare notes."

Across town...

In an abandoned office building...

The stolen file lay open on a dusty table.

A gloved hand slowly turned the pages.

One document was missing.

The intruder smiled.

"So..."

"Martin still doesn't know."

A phone vibrated.

"The file has been secured."

A distorted voice answered.

"Destroy everything."

The man looked down at one yellowed envelope hidden inside his coat.

"But what about this?"

A brief silence.

Then...

"Keep the envelope."

"That's the insurance policy."

The call ended.

The man looked at the envelope.

Written across the front were four words.

Do Not Open Yet.

Back at the estate...

Claire sat alone on the balcony.

The cool evening breeze carried the scent of roses through the gardens.

She reached into her handbag.

The silver locket.

The hidden memory card.

The note about Isabella.

She looked up at the stars.

"What are you trying to tell me?"

Just then, footsteps approached.

Martin.

He handed her a warm mug of tea.

"My grandmother used to say tea helps when the mind is too loud."

Claire accepted it.

"Did she?"

He nodded.

"For a woman everyone feared..."

A faint smile crossed his face.

"...she made excellent tea."

Claire laughed.

It was the first genuine laugh Martin had heard from her.

He realized something unexpected.

He wanted to hear it again.

Neither of them noticed a tiny red light blinking from the hedge below.

A hidden camera.

Someone was recording every moment.

The next morning...

Blackwood Estate awoke to chaos.

One of the housemaids screamed.

Claire rushed downstairs.

"What happened?"

The maid pointed toward the entrance hall.

A large wedding portrait had been delivered overnight.

But someone had slashed Claire's face with a knife.

Across the torn canvas, written in dripping red paint, were the chilling words:

You can wear the dress...

...but you'll never become Mrs. Blackwood.

Claire stood frozen.

Martin's jaw tightened.

He turned to Ethan.

"Lock down the estate."

His voice was cold enough to silence the room.

"No one..."

"...leaves."

At that same moment, hundreds of miles away, an elderly man in a private hospital slowly opened his eyes after years in a coma.

His first whispered words stunned the nurse beside him.

"Tell... Martin..."

"They're... killing... Isabella's daughter..."

The heart monitor began to race.

The nurse stared at him in shock.

She had no idea who Martin was.

Or why the old man's message could change everything.