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Chapter 1
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2025-12-18 17:51:05Isabella POV
The air in the Vane Diamond Gala smells like vintage champagne and expensive lies. I adjust my silk Dior gown. The two million dollar sapphire resting against my throat feels like a lead weight.
I am looking for Julian. I want to tell him my father agreed to fund his tech venture. I want to see him smile.
I find him on the terrace. He is not alone. He is whispering to a woman in a red dress. I stop behind a marble pillar. My heart hitches.
The sapphire? Julian's voice is a sharp blade. It is a dog collar. A very expensive one. I will wear it until the wedding. Once the Vane billions are in my account I am sending the Ice Queen to a villa in Switzerland. I will never look back.
The woman giggles. You do not love her?
Julian snorts. I can hear the ice in his tone. Love Isabella? She is a calculator in a dress. Cold. Boring. She thinks her legacy matters. Without her last name she is absolutely nothing.
I stand frozen. My heart does not break. It turns into a diamond. Hard. Cold. Unbreakable.
Nothing without my name? I think. A dangerous smile touches my lips. Let us test that.
Twelve Hours Later
The floor of my penthouse is littered with labels. Chanel. Gucci. Prada. I ripped them all out. I tossed them aside.
I stand before the mirror. I used kitchen scissors to hack my hair into a messy bun. I am wearing a fifteen dollar blazer from a thrift store. It scratches my skin. It smells like laundry soap and dust.
I look plain. I look invisible. I look like a girl who belongs on a city bus.
My phone buzzes. It is a text from my father’s lawyer. Isabella where are you? The board meeting starts in ten minutes.
I pick up a cheap plastic burner phone. I type two words. I hit send.
I quit.
I leave the Vane estate. I carry one small bag. I walk to the bus stop. The morning air is cold. A man bumps into me. He does not apologize. He does not even see me.
A strange surge of power rushes through me. I am a ghost with a ten billion dollar secret.
I reach Sterling Tech. The building is a monolith of glass. Liam Sterling owns this place. He is the man who wants to destroy my father. He is the only person in the city who hates the Vane name more than I do right now.
The lobby is a swarm of people. I walk to the front desk. The receptionist does not look up. She chews gum.
Name.
Bella Smith. For the assistant interview.
She points to a row of chairs. Six women sit there. They have perfect hair. They have expensive suits. I look at my scuffed shoes. My stomach twists. My heart hammers against my ribs.
I am a fraud. I am a liar.
The door opens. A man walks out. He is tall. His suit fits like armor. His jaw is a sharp line of granite. This is Liam Sterling. He looks at the candidates. His gaze is a physical weight.
He stops in front of a woman in a red suit. He looks at her resume. He drops it on the floor.
Too slow. Next.
The woman leaves in tears. Liam moves down the line. He is an executioner. He is a machine. He hates weakness.
His eyes land on me. He stares at my messy hair. He stares at my cheap glasses. I feel his heat. I feel his suspicion.
You. Smith. Office. Now.
I stand. My knees are weak. I follow him. The door shuts with a heavy thud. The room is silent.
Sit.
I sit. I keep my back straight. I hide my shaking hands in my lap.
Liam leans across the desk. He does not look at my resume. He looks at my face. He studies me like a complex equation.
You look like you are hiding something.
My breath hitches. My pulse thunders in my ears. I force myself to meet his eyes. I use the cold stare my father taught me. I soften it.
I am hiding my nerves. Sir.
Liam tilts his head. He narrows his eyes. Why should I hire a girl with no experience and a bad haircut?
My temper flares. My insecurity turns into heat. I lean forward.
Because those women care about your money. I care about the work. You need someone who can survive you. I can.
Liam taps a pen against the desk. The sound is a ticking clock. Most people want to be me or date me. Which one are you?
Neither. I want a paycheck.
Liam laughs. The sound is dry. Honesty. I hate liars. If you lie to me once you are gone. Understand?
I swallow hard. The irony tastes like ash. I nod. I understand.
Liam throws a thick folder onto the desk. It hits with a crack. This is the Davis account. It is a mess. Fix the data. I want it on my desk by 8:00 PM. If it is wrong do not bother coming back.
It is 5:00 PM. The file is three inches thick. A normal assistant needs days. I am a genius. I can do it in two hours.
I take the folder. I go to a small desk in the corner. I force myself to slow down. I make a mistake on purpose. I fix it. I feel the shame of mediocrity.
Two hours pass. The office grows dark. My neck aches. I have ten dollars in my purse. I cannot call my driver. I cannot order the food I like.
I am a stranger to myself.
The door opens. Felix walks in. He is Liam’s secretary. He looks terrified. He carries coffee.
The Boss is a monster tonight. He whispered. He lost a deal to the Vane Empire. He wants blood.
He sets a cup on my desk. It is the cheap stuff. It is all we have.
I take a sip. It is bitter. It burns. Thank you. It is perfect.
I finish the file at 7:55 PM. I stand up. I walk to Liam’s desk. He looks up. He looks surprised. He flips through the pages. He stops on page ten.
Who helped you with these projections?
No one. Sir.
Liam slams the folder shut. He stands. He walks around the desk. He stands too close. I can smell his cologne. Cedar. Leather. Power.
Do not lie to me. These are senior analyst numbers. You are a community college girl. How?
My heart stops. My pride betrayed me. I did too much. I study in my free time.
Liam grabs my chin. He tilts my head back. His thumb brushes my lip. My skin tingles. My breath hitches.
I will find out the truth. Bella. I always do.
He drops his hand. Go home. Be here at 6:00 AM.
I grab my bag. I turn to leave. I am shaking.
Bella.
I stop. I do not turn around.
Your blazer is inside out.
I look down. The tag is visible. My face turns bright red. I rush out.
I reach the elevator. I lean against the wall. I am safe for now. But Liam Sterling is watching.
I walk to the bus stop. A black car pulls up. Julian sits in the back. He looks at the poor girl on the sidewalk. He does not recognize me.
Move it. You are blocking the path.
I freeze. I stare at the man I almost married. I feel hatred. I feel power. I am invisible.
The bus arrives. I sit in the back. I watch the city lights.
I reach my tiny room. The walls are thin. I can hear neighbors fighting. I sit on the bed.
I see a news alert. Isabella Vane Missing. Vane Empire Stocks Plummet.
I turn off the phone. I lie back. Tomorrow I face Liam again. Tomorrow I keep the lie alive.
I am almost asleep when a loud knock hits my door.
Isabella. Open up. I know you are in there.
It is not Julian. It is not my father.
It is Liam Sterling.
Último capítulo
The CEO's Undercover Heiress Chapter 17
POV: LiamThe architecture of a trap is rarely made of steel. It is made of paper. Clauses. Sub-sections. Contingencies.I stepped into my penthouse, the air still smelling of the rain she had brought in earlier. The silence was heavy. It was a vacuum left behind by a specific frequency—I cut the thought. I moved to the window.The red dot on my chest wasn't there. I checked my reflection in the dark glass. Nothing. I had seen the feed Sarah showed Isabella in the alleyway. I knew the threat was real, but I also knew Sarah. She was a middleman. She wouldn't pull a trigger; she would only buy the person who did.The phone in my pocket vibrated. A private line. Not the one Isabella had. This was the line for the vultures."Sterling," I said."Mr. Sterling. This is Harrison Miller, from Miller & Associates. We represent the Eleanor Vane Legacy Trust."I sat at my desk. I didn't turn on the lights. I watched the grid of the city. Everything had a price. Every light was a bill bei
The CEO's Undercover Heiress Chapter 16
POV: IsabellaThe penthouse was a cage with a better view. Liam’s view.I stood in the center of the living room. The floor was polished stone. Cold. It reflected the recessed lighting like a dark lake. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, Manhattan was a grid of electric fire."The security is proprietary," Liam said. He was standing by the door, coat still on. He didn't come in. He hovered. "Encrypted biometric entry. No one gets in without my authorization. Not even the board.""I am not a board member," I said."You're a Vane.""That’s why I’m leaving."I set my bag on the marble counter. It made a soft thud. It was the only thing I owned that hadn't been searched by the DOJ or charred by the lighthouse fire. Inside was a change of clothes and the master drive."Isabella, the street is a mess," Liam said. His voice was tight. He moved with a slight hitch in his shoulder—a structural flaw I had caused. "The press is camped out at your father’s place. They’re at the office. This is
The CEO's Undercover Heiress Chapter 15
POV: LiamThe sun is a cold, flat coin over the city. It doesn’t provide heat. It just makes the glass of the Sterling Tower look sharper.I haven’t slept. My eyes feel like they’ve been rubbed with sand.I sat at my desk. The screen in front of me was a wall of scrolling text. White on black. The raw data dump from the house in New Jersey. Isabella’s "mirror."Every time a line of code flashed, I saw her face. The way she looked in the kitchen. The way she asked about the math.Interrupt the thought. Delete it.Reputation is a fragile structure. It’s built on the assumption of control. The moment the market smells a leak, the structure begins to groan."Liam."Felix didn't knock. He never knocks when the world is ending. He was holding a physical tablet. His hand was shaking."It’s out," Felix said."What’s out?""The Medusa specs. Not all of them. But enough."He slid the tablet across the desk.It was a blog. A high-traffic tech site that thrives on corporate blood. The headline wa
The CEO's Undercover Heiress Chapter 14
Isabella's POV The Vane Tower is an ivory cage. Glass and steel. It feels like it’s humming. A low, electric vibration in the floorboards.The DOJ is in the lobby. I can see them on the monitors. Men in windbreakers. They carry boxes. They look like movers, but they move like soldiers. They are here for the hard drives. They are here for my father.Arthur is in his office. The door is mahogany. It’s thick. I can still hear him screaming at a lawyer. The sound is muffled. Like a dog barking in a neighbor's yard.I sat in the corridor. I didn't hide. I sat on a bench meant for waiting.My phone buzzed.L.S.I didn't answer. I looked at the screen until it went dark. Then it buzzed again.I picked up. I didn't say hello."The service elevator," Liam said. His voice was tight. "The freight entrance on 48th. My team has the bypass.""I have the data," I said."Leave it. Just get out.""I can't leave it.""Isabella. Now."I stood up. My legs felt heavy. I went to the server r
The CEO's Undercover Heiress Chapter 13
Liam's POV The green line on the Bloomberg terminal is vertical. It doesn’t look like a trend. It looks like a needle.Sterling Tech (STK) up 12% in the first hour. Then 18%. The volume is high—institutional buyers, not retail. They saw the interview. They didn’t see a victim; they saw a Vane taking a side. In this market, certainty is more valuable than ethics.I watched the numbers flicker. My reflection was ghosted over the screen. Dark circles under my eyes. The bandage on my shoulder felt like a hot iron."The shorts are being squeezed," Felix said. He was pacing the length of my office. "Henderson is losing his shirt. He bet on your removal. Now he’s scrambling to buy back in before the price hits the ceiling.""It’s not a ceiling," I said. "It’s a bluff.""A profitable one. Isabella gave you the win, Liam. She validated your position. She told the world the merger was logical. That means the tech is real.""She told the world what she needed to tell them to stay alive."
The CEO's Undercover Heiress 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
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