로그인Isabelle felt the floor tilt beneath her for what felt like the tenth time that week. "That's not possible. He said it in that exact detail. Six hundred jobs. A dying town.""I pulled the employment records myself," Marcus said. "Reyes topped out around ninety employees at its highest point, five years before your father ever bought in. Whatever story he's telling you, it's not the real one."Adrian's jaw tightened. "Then we ask him. Directly. When he gets here.""If he gets here," Isabelle said. "He might not come at all once he realizes we're not accepting the version he's already rehearsed."As if summoned by the thought, Adrian's phone buzzed with a text from building security. *Gerald Carter requested access. Says he's expected.*"He's here," Adrian said quietly. "Faster than an hour.""He was probably already in the car when he called me," Isabelle said. "Which means whatever story he's about to tell us, he's had time to polish it."They waited in tense silence until the office
Isabelle stared at the message, her thumb hovering over her father's name as the phone continued ringing in her hand.Across the room, Adrian was still on the line with Sarah Klein, his voice measured despite the tension in his shoulders. "I want to give you the full context before you publish anything else. Not to control the story. To make sure it's accurate."Isabelle's phone stopped ringing, then started again immediately. She answered."Isabelle." Gerald's voice was tight, stripped of its usual composure. "Tell me Adrian hasn't called that reporter yet.""He's on the phone with her right now.""Then stop him." Her father's voice cracked with something she'd rarely heard from him, real fear. "Isabelle, if this comes out the way Marcus is about to spin it, framed as fraud, as a cover-up, it won't just hurt Adrian's company. It will hurt you. Everything I own is tied to Carter Holdings. If Whitmore uses this to come after me publicly, the fallout touches your name too. Your mother's
"That's not possible." Isabelle's voice came out steadier than she felt, though her hands had gone cold. "My father would have told me if he owned part of Reyes.""Would he?" Marcus's voice was quiet, almost gentle now, the fight gone out of him. "Isabelle, your father spent eight years building positions in companies connected to Adrian without either of you knowing. Whitmore. Reyes. Probably others we haven't found yet. Why would this be the one thing he told you the truth about?"Adrian was staring at the folder like it might catch fire. "If Gerald owned forty percent of Reyes before I acquired it, and I overpaid because of a falsified valuation—""Then your father-in-law made a substantial profit off his own daughter's marriage," Marcus finished. "And he did it quietly enough that neither of us noticed for three years."Isabelle sat down slowly in the chair across from the desk, her legs no longer entirely willing to hold her. "Did you know? When you falsified the numbers. Did you
Marcus's office looked exactly as they'd left it hours earlier, papers still scattered across the desk, his jacket draped over the chair. He looked up when they walked in, relief crossing his face for a fraction of a second before something in their expressions made him go still. "You look like you've seen a ghost," he said, setting down his phone. "What happened to Emma?" "Sit down, Marcus," Adrian said. The tone in his voice was one Isabelle had rarely heard him use, flat and controlled in a way that carried more weight than shouting ever could. Marcus's easy posture shifted, something wary settling behind his eyes. "Adrian, we don't have time for whatever this is. Klein's editor is waiting on—" "Reyes Manufacturing." Adrian set the folder on the desk between them, sliding it forward with two fingers. "Tell me about the valuation report." Marcus's gaze dropped to the folder, and Isabelle watched his face carefully, the way his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, the way his ha
Isabelle read the signature three times, as if repetition might change what it said.Marcus Grant. Not Adrian. Marcus."That can't be right," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.Emma leaned forward, keeping her own voice low. "Adrian didn't sign off on the falsified numbers. Marcus did. Adrian knew about it after the fact, and he chose not to report it, which makes him complicit either way. But the actual falsification, the signature that authorized the valuation report going to the board, that's Marcus."Isabelle's mind raced back through every conversation of the last four days. Marcus, sitting across from her with careful concern in his eyes, telling her he'd only recently uncovered Sophia's lies. Marcus, guilt-ridden over staying silent for three days about the fake pregnancy. Marcus, who had positioned himself as the one person cutting through everyone else's secrets."He's been the one managing all of this," Isabelle said slowly. "Digging up Sophia's records. Finding the
Isabelle's thumb pressed down before she could talk herself out of it.What about him? What don't I know?The reply came fast, faster than she expected.Not over text. Too risky. Meet me at the coffee shop on 52nd, the one near the office. Twenty minutes. Come alone.Isabelle stared at the screen, her heart hammering. Come alone. She'd heard that phrase before, from Sophia, and looked how that had ended. But something about Emma's tone felt different, less theatrical, more urgent in a way that made her stomach twist."Isabelle." Adrian's voice cut through her thoughts. He was watching her now, Vanessa quiet beside him. "Who was that?"She hesitated. Four days ago she would have hidden the phone, turned away, carried the secret alone the way she always had. She doesn't do that now."Emma," she said, turning the screen toward him. "She says there's something about you I don't know. Something that isn't about Sophia."Adrian's face went pale in a way Isabelle hadn't seen since the lobby,







