Return To The Apex

Isabelle’s POV

The jet-black convoy arrived within ten minutes.

Three armored Maybachs pulled up outside the Hayes gates in perfect formation, flanked by two obsidian SUVs. Lancer stepped out of the middle vehicle, his three-piece suit immaculate and his silver hair neatly combed back.

Two guards immediately took my duffel bag and placed it in the trunk.

"Welcome back, Miss Isabelle," Lancer said, opening the car door with a respectful bow.

I handed him the signed document bearing Alexander's furious signature. "It's done."

Lancer examined the signature, a cold glint appearing in his eyes. "Then the copyright provisions are now active. Hayes Hospitality Group no longer has the legal right to use your architectural designs. In addition, Harynx Capital, Sinclair Enterprises' primary holding vehicle, holds seventy percent of their debt notes. Alexander Hayes has spent months begging our board for an expansion loan."

"Have Harynx accept his meeting for tomorrow morning," I said, settling into the leather seat. "At Sinclair Tower."

The convoy moved through the city, bypassing the commercial district before taking the private roads leading to Crestmont Heights.

As we left the highway, my old civilian phone buzzed in my pocket.

I took it out and checked the screen. An automated notification appeared:

Alert: Account #7821 under primary holder Alexander Hayes has been deactivated. All secondary card privileges revoked.

A second message appeared immediately afterward, this time from Alexander's personal number.

Let's see how long your stubborn pride lasts without my name to buy your breakfast. Don't call me until you're ready to apologize to Vanessa and start the nursery.

A cold, humorless breath escaped my lips.

Alexander was so eager to see me suffer that he hadn't even waited until noon to cut off my access to his money. He genuinely believed that taking away a few credit cards would leave me stranded and desperate, begging to return to him.

Without replying, I removed the SIM card, snapped it in half between my fingers, and dropped the pieces into the small console bin.

The Sinclair ancestral estate wasn't hidden behind ordinary suburban walls. It occupied hundreds of private acres, with an imposing limestone mansion overlooking the capital. As the massive iron gates opened and the car approached the grand portico, I finally understood the full extent of what I had walked away from seven years ago.

Alexander's estate was a dollhouse compared to this. This was an empire.

The car stopped in front of the entrance. The towering double doors of the main house stood open.

Three familiar figures were waiting on the grand steps.

At the center stood my mother, Katherine Sinclair. She wore a charcoal silk gown, her silver-streaked hair arranged in an immaculate chignon. Even without saying a word, she carried the kind of authority that made heads of state tread carefully.

To her left stood my eldest brother, Spencer Sinclair, the thirty-six-year-old CEO of Sinclair Enterprises. Tall and broad-shouldered in his tailored suit, he had the sharp eyes of a man who missed nothing in the world of business.

To her right was my second brother, Lyon Sinclair, twenty-nine, who headed the family's private venture arm and defense contracts. He leaned against the stone balustrade, his expression calm but his presence carrying a quiet threat.

I stepped out of the vehicle.

For a moment, the courtyard fell silent.

Spencer moved first. He came down the steps with long, deliberate strides, his expression stern. Seven years ago, he had nearly lost control when I announced that I was leaving the family to marry Alexander Hayes.

I braced myself for anger or a bitter reprimand. I knew I had given him every reason to be disappointed in me.

Instead, he stopped in front of me and pulled me into a tight embrace.

"You're too thin, Isabelle," he murmured, his voice heavy with restrained anger.

When he pulled back, he kept his hands on my shoulders and studied my face.

"Did that bastard make you suffer?"

"I'm fine, Spencer," I replied. For the first time in years, I felt a genuine warmth settle in my chest.

Lyon came down the steps at a more leisurely pace, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets. A dangerous smile touched his lips.

"I have our audit and security teams on standby," he said casually, though the vein in his temple was visibly throbbing. "Give me the word, and I'll have Hayes Manor cordoned off by sunset. Alexander won't even have shoes to wear when the receivers arrive. Just say the word, Isabelle, and we'll flag every operating permit and freeze every commercial asset he owns by tonight."

Spencer's expression darkened. "Our corporate legal division already has an injunction prepared to dismantle his credit lines the moment you give the signal."

"Lyon, Spencer, enough."

Katherine's voice was quiet, but it carried enough authority to make both men fall silent.

They stepped aside.

My mother descended the remaining steps and stopped in front of me. Her emerald eyes, the same shade as mine, studied my face.

Seven years ago, she had stood in this exact spot and told me that leaving with Alexander Hayes was like throwing gold into the mud.

Now, she reached out and gently touched my cheek.

"You look exhausted, Isabelle," she said softly.

"I'm sorry, Mother," I whispered. "You warned me."

"A Sinclair does not apologize for surviving an error in judgment." She lifted her chin, her pride unmistakable. "A fool will always mistake a diamond for cheap glass. You're back where you belong, and that's all that matters. We cut our losses, collect our debts, and move forward."

She turned toward the entrance, keeping one hand on my shoulder.

"Come inside. Lancer has already informed me about the paperwork. Alexander Hayes thinks he built an empire, completely unaware that your intellect was holding up its walls."

Her expression hardened.

"Tomorrow morning at ten, he'll arrive at Sinclair Tower to beg Harynx Capital for an expansion loan. Spencer and Lyon will be in the room, but you'll sit at the head of that table."

Spencer adjusted his cufflinks, a thin smile appearing on his face.

"Let's see how arrogant Mr. Hayes looks when he realizes who owns the chair he's begging from."

I looked up at the grand entrance of my childhood home and felt the weight of the Hayes surname finally begin to lift from my shoulders.

Alexander thought I was starving in the gutter.

Tomorrow at ten, he would discover exactly who owned his kingdom.