Chapter 12

Isabella's POV 

​The room is gray. Padded walls. No windows. It is designed to make people talk. Silence in a room like this feels like a vacuum. It pulls the truth out of you just to fill the space.

​I sat in the middle. My hands were flat on the cold metal table. My father stood in the corner, a shadow in a three-thousand-dollar suit. He was checking his reflection in the two-way mirror.

​"You look like a victim, Isabella," Arthur said. "That’s good. Keep the shoulders tight. Don't look at the lens. Look at the floor."

​"I am not a victim," I said.

​"To the public, you are. Victims are profitable. Victims get sympathy. Sympathy buys us the time we need to finalize the Sterling acquisition."

​I didn't answer. I looked at the grain of the metal table. Small scratches. Probably from someone’s wedding ring. Or a pen.

​"The journalist is a shark," Arthur continued. "Sarah Jenkins. She’ll try to bait you. She’ll ask about the fire. She’ll ask about the Sterling boy. You tell her you were confused. You tell her you were afraid. Use the word 'coerced.'"

​"No."

​Arthur stopped fixing his tie. He looked at me. "Pardon?"

​"I won't say I was coerced. It’s a legal liability. If I say I was coerced, Liam’s lawyers can argue the signatures were invalid. We need the signatures to hold."

​Arthur narrowed his eyes. He was calculating. "Fine. Then say you were 'influenced.' It’s softer."

​"I will say what I agreed to say. Nothing more."

​"The board is watching, Isabella. Don't embarrass me."

​"I don't make mistakes, Father. You know that."

​The door opened. Sarah Jenkins walked in. She carried a tablet and a small recorder. She didn't smile. She sat across from me. She looked like she hadn't slept in forty-eight hours. Good. Tired people are predictable.

​"Ms. Vane," Sarah said. She set the recorder on the table. "Thank you for coming."

​I didn't answer. I just looked at the recorder.

​"My terms," I said. My voice was flat. Economical.

​"I have them here," Sarah said, tapping her tablet. "No questions about your mother. No questions about the Medusa core. No questions about the island’s exact location. Five minutes total."

​"And the footage," I added. "I want the raw files. Before the edit."

​"That’s not standard, Isabella."

​"Standard doesn't apply here. Raw files. Or I walk."

​Sarah looked at Arthur. He nodded once.

​"Fine," Sarah said. "Raw files. We’re live in three. Two. One."

​The red light on the camera flickered to life. The air in the room got heavier.

​"I am here with Isabella Vane," Sarah said, looking into the lens. "The heiress to the Vane Empire, recently recovered from a traumatic kidnapping. Isabella, the world has been watching. How are you feeling?"

​I looked at the floor. Just like Arthur wanted. But I wasn't acting. I was looking at the scratches on the table.

​"I am focused," I said.

​"Focused on what?"

​"The future. The company. The legacy."

​"There have been rumors," Sarah said, leaning forward. "Rumors that you weren't kidnapped. That you went to Sterling Tech of your own free will. That you were working as an assistant named 'Bella Smith.'"

​I looked up. I didn't blink.

​"I was where I needed to be," I said.

​"To do what?"

​"To protect the assets. My father’s assets."

​"So you were a spy?" Sarah’s eyebrows went up. "An undercover agent for your family?"

​"I am a Vane," I said. "We do what is necessary."

​Sarah shifted her papers. She was looking for a crack.

​"Let’s talk about Liam Sterling," she said. "He says he saved you from the fire. He says he was trying to protect you from a rogue element in your own family."

​"Liam Sterling is a competitor," I said.

​"Is that all he is?"

​"He is a man who lost a merger. His perspective is... skewed."

​"He has a gunshot wound, Isabella. He was at the lighthouse."

​"Many people were at the lighthouse," I said.

​"Who?"

​I didn't answer. I let the silence hang. It was a long, cold five seconds.

​"The fire," Sarah said, pivoting. "The police reports say it started from a kerosene heater. But there are traces of accelerants. Did you see who started it?"

​"It was dark. There was smoke."

​"Your mother was there. Eleanor Vane."

​Arthur moved in the corner. A small shuffle.

​"I have no comment on Eleanor Vane," I said.

​"Witnesses say she jumped. Did she jump, Isabella? Or was she pushed?"

​"I have no comment."

​"Is she alive?"

​"I have no comment."

​Sarah leaned back. She looked at her tablet. She looked at the red light on the camera.

​"You’re very controlled," she said. It wasn't a compliment.

​"I have work to do," I said.

​"The Sterling board is meeting on Friday. A vote of no confidence against Liam. If he’s ousted, the merger goes through automatically. Is that what you want?"

​"The merger is a logical progression," I said.

​"Logic," Sarah whispered. "You sound like a machine."

​"Machines don't bleed," I said.

​I looked at my thumb. The scar was still there. Small. Red. A reminder of the glass.

​"One last question," Sarah said. She turned off the recorder. But the camera light was still red. "About the sapphire. The 'Sterling Heart.' My sources say you had it on the island. My sources say you gave it to your father."

​"The sapphire is a Vane asset," I said.

​"Is it?" Sarah smiled. It was a sharp, ugly look. "Because I just got a notification. A bank in Dubai just processed a transfer. A transfer of ten billion dollars. Authenticated by a biometric scan of that stone."

​The room went still.

​I looked at Arthur. He was frozen. His face was gray.

​"That’s impossible," Arthur said. He stepped out of the shadow. "The stone is in the safe. I checked it ten minutes ago."

​"Maybe you should check it again, Arthur," Sarah said.

​She looked at me. Her eyes were full of something I didn't like.

​"Isabella," Sarah said. "Do you know who owns this news outlet?"

​"A shell company," I said. "Venture capital."

​"No," Sarah said.

​She turned the tablet toward me.

​"It’s funded by a trust. The 'E.V. Legacy Trust.'"

​My heart stopped.

​E.V.

​Eleanor Vane.

​"My mother is dead," I said.

​"Is she?" Sarah asked. "Because the trust was activated an hour ago. From a secure location in the North Atlantic. And the first thing they did was buy the rights to this interview."

​The red light on the camera turned green.

​"We’re not live, Isabella," Sarah whispered. "We never were. This was a screening. For her."

​The door to the room clicked.

​Locked.

​Arthur ran to the door. He pulled the handle. It didn't move.

​"Open the door!" Arthur screamed.

​A voice came over the intercom. It wasn't the technician.

​It was a woman.

​"You always were too slow, Arthur," the voice said.

​It was Eleanor.

​"Isabella," my mother said. Her voice was smooth. Like silk over a blade. "I saw the interview. You were a bit stiff. We’ll have to work on that."

​"Where are you?" I asked.

​"I’m exactly where I need to be. In the system. The Medusa core isn't just a tracker, darling. It’s a parasite. And right now, it’s eating the Vane accounts from the inside out."

​I looked at Arthur. He was slumped against the door. He looked old.

​"Isabella," Eleanor said. "The Sterling boy is in the garden. Julian is there too. I think they’re going to have a disagreement."

​"Don't touch him," I said.

​"I won't have to. Julian is very motivated. He wants his money back. And he thinks Liam has the key."

​I looked at the camera. I looked at the lens.

​"What do you want?" I asked.

​"I want the daughter I built," Eleanor said. "The one who knows how to survive. Not the one who hides behind a Sterling."

​The screen on the table flickered to life.

​It was a live feed.

​A garden. Night.

​I saw Liam. He was standing near a fountain. His shoulder was bandaged.

​And I saw Julian. He was holding a flare gun.

​And a match.

​"Isabella," Liam said. He was looking at his phone. "I know you're watching."

​"He can't hear you," Sarah said. She was standing up now. She was packing her things. "But he knows the frequency."

​I looked at the wood in Liam’s hand.

​The coordinate.

​"Mother," I said.

​"Yes, darling?"

​"You forgot one thing."

​"Oh?"

​"I didn't switch the stone for glass," I said.

​I reached into my hair. I pulled out a small, flat chip.

​"The stone Arthur has is real," I said. "But the biometric scan? It was slaved to me. Not the stone."

​I snapped the chip in half.

​The screen in front of me went black.

​The lights in the room died.

​In the dark, I heard my father gasping.

​I heard Sarah move toward the exit.

​But I didn't move.

​I sat in the gray room.

​I waited for the silence to fill up.

​Cliffhanger:

​The intercom crackled one last time.

​"Clever girl," Eleanor whispered.

​Then, the sound of a gunshot.

​Not from the intercom.

​From the hallway right outside the door.