The Enemies Stayed, An Ally Showed

Bella's pov-

The late afternoon sun slanted long shadows across my cubicle at Ashcroft World Headquarters. I was preparing to leave, my mind focused on the tech summit where I was finally going to meet the mysterious E. Black, when the door swung open. Ethan was standing there, taking up most of the doorway with his wide shoulders, navy suit as perfect as ever. His gaze clashed with mine, and for seconds, I was back in that same moment years ago where he’d supposedly took a bullet for me. But the memory soured fast.

“Isabella,” he said, his voice pleading, smooth. “We need to talk. I screwed up, but I can fix this. You and me, we’re stronger as one.”

I chuckled. My green dress clung to me like a second skin, a testament to the strength I’d regained as Isabella Hartman, not the shattered Bella Sinclair he’d distorted. “Fix this?” I took a step closer, my eyes flaming. “You fucked my stepsister, Ethan. You embarrassed me, humiliated and used me and made me feel like a liability after I took a prison bid for you. I signed your NDA, I took the fall for your corporate leak and you rewarded me by fucking in my own bed.”

He winced, but his jaw locked and his charm smoothed right back into place. “I was weak, Isabella. Lilian was a mistake. But you’re my future, my legacy. We can rebuild—”

“Cease,” I snapped, and my voice sliced through his lies. “You don’t want me, Ethan.” It hurt my heart, not for a love lost, but for the foolish girl who once trusted him. I had concealed my Ashcroft persona to be with him, not to play his enemy, and he had used that sacrifice. No more.

Ethan moved closer and his eyes softened, the expression that would have melted me back in the day. “I still love you,” he whispered, and then, before I could even think, he bent down and kissed me. His lips were warm, familiar, yet they sparked nothing but rage. I pushed him away, my hands trembling to think of it, my cheek stinging from the memory of the slap from Lilian.

“Get away,” I hissed, and wiped my mouth as if I could wipe him off me. “You can’t do that anymore. You don’t get to touch me, to handle me, to pretend you give a shit. Go, Ethan, or I’ll ask security to take you out.”

The expression on his face darkened, a spark of anger breaking his control, but he backed down. “You will regret this,” he said, his voice low, then turned and stalked out. I breathed heavily and couldn’t help but battle the vulnerability he had been trying to take advantage of. I was through being his pawn, but his kiss had shaken me, jolted me into the memory of how thoroughly he could slip right under my guard.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked into the hall. The tech summit was later that day and I wanted to know who this mysterious investor was. Was he a friend, a foe or just another of Ethan’s machinations? My heals clanged as I walked across the marble out of the office. All around, the city hummed unknowing, my world brewing into a tempest.

I slipped into the seat of my vehicle, already awake with the rumbling of the engine, and I drove toward the location in the summit. We drove through the streets, but a shiver passed over me. The blend of my hazy instincts, honed for years inside an underground cartel, told me I was being watched. They cut me off halfway through the city, a black van weaving in front of me. Men wearing masks poured out, their movements quick, professional. My heart was racing, but I went into autopilot mode. I pressed my hand in the glove compartment for the hidden gun and pulled it out with steady hands despite the way I could feel adrenaline rushing through me. There were shots, and I shot back, the bullets finding their mark, sending them away. I stepped on the gas and wove through traffic, my heart pounding as I fled.

I could not hold an appointment with E. Black the rest of that day; my escape from the ambush having shaken but not cowed me.

--

It had spooked me, the ambush, but I wasn’t going to hide. I'd barely survived those masked men; now everywhere I turned I was surrounded by bodyguards, and they didnt let me forget the perils swarming around my reclaimed life as the Ashcroft heir. If I had survived a secret syndicate and prison; I could handle whatever followed. 

I was at my office at Ashcroft headquarters, the skyscrapers in the distance visible through the glass walls, when my father’s younger brother, Kilan Hartman, came bursting in. His hollow eyed were as I remembered them when I’d last seen him, years before, when he’d slunk about my father’s empire like a vulture. “You’re not fit to lead Ashcroft,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension, “Isabella. Step down. The way you handle things is a poor example of Victor’s legacy.”

I rose to my feet, my heels echoing against the smooth floor when I stood across from him, chestnut locks of hair pulled back to reveal the fire within my eyes. “You dare lecture me, Kilan?” My voice was steady, cutting. “You were a snitch when my father was alive, telling his secrets to his enemies in exchange for scraps of power. You cannot tell me what to do.” Kilan still reeked with betrayal. I’d suspected long ago that he’d sold information to rivals, which had weakened my father’s empire. He had no claim here.

Kilan’s face contorted, his thin lips drawing back. “You’ll be sorry for crossing me, Isabella. This company will not belong to you for much longer.” I took a step forward, not hesitating.

“Bring it on,” I shot back, my voice firm. “Ive dealt with worse than you and came out on top.” His eyes narrowed and he backed off, but I saw the fear in them. Kilan was no soldier, only an opportunist. I’d deal with him later.

That night I showed up to the rescheduled tech summit with Maggie, her leather jacket and punky vibe making all those CEOs look beyond polished. I wore a simple black gown, but when I was directed to my seat, my stomach dropped. The back had been a cheap, folding chair; the first class male CEOs, sank into plush, leather seats at the front. Maggie squeezed my hand, her hazel eyes flashing. “They want to humiliate you,” she whispered. “Don’t let them.”

I grit my teeth, preparing to stand and demand respect, but a low voice silenced the room’s hum. “Whoever heard of donating a lousy chair to a woman as grand as Isabella Hartman?” The crowd parted, eyes swiveling to the voice. 

The room hushed, whispers of his name wisping through the crowd. A clumsy attendant caught up my chair and put another one, a splendid one, in its place, and trembled with eagerness. There was no mistaking the stranger’s place of power; he seemed to inspire fear and respect at the same time. I sat, my mind racing. Was this E. Black? The mysterious investor? His eyes met mine; as he drew nearer, a little smile touched his face. I got up, my heart pounding, the eerie similarity sticking in my mind. and my jaw dropped as he was the spitting image of my ex, husband. “Who the hell are you?” I asked.