The Unmasked Heiress: Isabella Hartman is back

Bella's pov-

“Ethan, I feel like I’m the only one that’s trying to make this work?” I asked, my voice shaking on the other end of the phone even though I was struggling to keep it even. The San Francisco skyline sparkled outside my apartment's window.

“Isabella, you’re being dramatic,” Ethan’s voice was calm, clipped, like it was all the time when he was trying to write me off. “I’m busy. You know how things are at the company. Stop making this about you.”

I clutched the phone, my knuckles white. It was two weeks before our wedding, and I was falling apart. Ethan Blackvale, the sole heir to the Blackvale tech empire, the man who’d once saved my life. He’d saved my life by catching a bullet, or at least, that’s what I thought, and I’d evened the score by going down for him. Six months in a minimum-security prison, a sealed record and an NDA to shield his billion-dollar history. I’d done it for love. For us. But something had changed since I’d been back. The man who’d promised me forever now regarded me as liability.

It began quietly — missed dinners, curt responses. Then there was the series of public humiliations. When he finally got his way at a Blackvale gala last week, and demanded a makeup artist to “polish” me, he slathered my face down with thick foundation and contour until I barely recognized my reflection in the mirror. “Can’t have anyone whispering about my fiancée being an ex-convict,” he said, his steel gray eyes staring at me as if I were some problem to be managed. I’d dozed there, swallowing my rage, as the artist painted over my identity.

Worse, I'd seen him at that same gala, his hand skimming Lilian's lower back, as she laughed rather too loudly at something he'd said. Lilian Sinclair, my stepsister, had always been the thorn in my life, glamorous and deadly jealous. She loved the attention, and Ethan was providing an abundance of it. Their murmurs, the moment her cold blue eyes swiveled to look at me with a smirk—it wasn’t flirting simply. It was a performance, and I was the viewer.

I wasn’t naive. I’d survived a secret data cleaning cartel, a fake identity to cover my criminal origins as an Ashcroft heiress. I was a trained digital forensics tactician. If Ethan believed he could play me, he was going to find out how mistaken he was.

That was why I’d put the surveillance camera in our penthouse suite. It was a minimalist, unobtrusive device, nestled in the corner of the living room, and recording every angle of the area we were expected to refer to as home. He had been spending more nights there alone, citing “late meetings.” And I wanted evidence, not suspicions. My eyes, never left my computer screen the night of the feed.

The footage played, and my heart dropped. Lying on the bed we would soon be sleeping in, was Ethan. His wide shoulders, hair I never forgot how to thread my fingers through, he moved with a rhythm that turned my stomach. Underneath him lay Lilian, her sexy red dress abandoned on the floor, her laughter flooding the background. My stepsister wasn’t even the least bit sorry about sleeping with the man I was supposed to marry.

I sucked in a breath, but I didn’t cry. I’d known for some time that tears were a luxury I couldn’t afford. Rather, a cold determination formed in my chest. It was not simply a betrayal; it was a declaration of war. The man who at one time had sworn to protect me, was now using my own family to control me. Lilian was the weapon, with her artful manipulations. I’d been to prison for him, to save his empire, and this was what I got in return.

As if he could hear my thoughts, my phone buzzed, Ethan’s name flashing across the screen. I watched as it played, still rolling, her moans accompanying my shattering heart.

I picked up and spoke in a low hiss. “What do you want, Ethan?” The laptop screen was still alight with his face and that of Lilian, their betrayal captured in the surveillance feed. My heart thudded, but I maintained a steady tone — a skill perfected in years of walking through shadows and secrets.

“Isabella, you’ve got to get a handle on your family issues,” Ethan said, in a condescending tone. “I’m not going to have your shit affecting my empire when we’re married. Your father was a convict and now you’re an ex-convict. Fix it, or we’re done.”

The words hit like a slap. My father, Victor Hartman, was a crook all right, but his sins, and Ethan’s, at least, I’d paid for. I had been the fall guy for a corporate leak, in order to save his beloved Blackvale empire, signed an N.D.A. and spent a retributory six months in prison. All because I had faith in him, in us. And this motherfucker had the nerve to lecture me about my family issues while he was up under my stepsister? The hypocrisy set off something feral inside of me.

I laughed, a loud bitter sound that sliced through the phone. “You want to talk about family, Ethan? then you fucking Lilian in our bed? Yeah, I saw it. You can go to hell. You obviously like her better.”

Silence. At last, I had caught him off guard. I could almost feel his cold gray eyes squinting, planning his next attack. “Isabella, what do you mean?” he stammered, but the shock in his voice was empty, the ugly performance of a bad actor.

“Don’t play dumb,” I snapped. “I’m done being your pawn.” I was no longer the vulnerable girl he thought he could control. I’d left my past behind once before, shed my old self as Isabella Hartman to become Bella Sinclair, for him. I’d loved him, I’d believed in him, but instead of regarding my sacrifice as strength, he’d treated me like I was weak. No more.

Before he had a chance to reply, I hung up and the silence in my apartment was deafening. I watched the San Francisco skyline sparkle outside, a reminder of the world I’d battled to take back. Ethan was convinced he could break me, turn me into a submissive wife to enhance his own standing. 

I wasn’t just Bella Sinclair, the former inmate fiancée he could humiliate. I was Isabella Hartman, the trillion-dollar heiress to the Ashcroft throne, the tech dynasty that made Blackvale look like a footnote. I’d taken on a disguise so I could be with him, so I could keep myself from being mistaken for his enemy. But I had been blinded by love, and betrayal had opened my eyes. I was done hiding.

My hands shook when I reached for my phone again, opening up to a number I hadn’t dialed in years. After the first ring, a second, a familiar voice came on, calm, expecting this call. “Isabella?”

“It is time,” I said, my voice now stronger, more resolute thanks to the fire Ethan didn’t even know he’d sparked. “I’m ready to be who I truly am.” I hesitated, as I checked the video feed one final time. Lilian’s sneer still burned in my mind. “I’m reclaiming every last thing that he thought I’d lost.”