Semua Bab The Unmasked Heiress: Isabella Hartman is back: Bab 21 - Bab 30

Bella's pov-The jumpsuit was nowhere to be found; in its place was a navy suit that Elijah had sent, a silent offer of faith that calmed my shaking hands. My release came suddenly, after weeks in that cell — a judge named “new evidence” in Lilian’s murder case, but it was never clear to me what the evidence was. Elijah was at my side, glaring with his amber eyes, protecting me from the hoard of paparazzi that were already forming. Their cameras flashed, a savage attack, their cries — “Killer Heiress Freed!” “Isabella, why’d you do it?” — cuts through the fog of my freedom. I squeezed Elijah’s hand, my anchor in this madness, but the world I’d fought for was someone else’s now. My empire was in ruins—stocks crashing, the board ready to toss me, my uncle Kilan circling like a vulture. Lilian’s death, laid at my feet, had destroyed my reputation, and though I was free, the label of “KILLER” clung to me, on my online image. The drugs scandal of Elijah, our fake to real flirtation. I am

Ethans pov – The Blackvale empire was teetering in my absence, the New York skyline a cold witness to the chaos I’d orchestrated. The boardroom shareholders dumping stock, directors screaming for answers after Maggie’s leaked tapes exposed my lies. My tailored suit was gone, replaced by a nondescript jacket, rumors of my flight to international waters swirling, a ghost abandoning my throne. But I hadn’t run. I’d only waited and calculated, let the storm rage while I pulled strings from the shadows. Now, I was back, striding into Blackvale’s headquarters, my gray eyes sharp, my confidence the strongest weapon in the room. The board gaped as I entered, my shiny shoes clicking over the marble, and my silence radiating their fear. The whispers called me a coward, but I was Ethan Black, CEO, and I was untouchable. I’d spent days securing allies – directors loyal to the past, officials bribed to maintain their loyalty, syndicate contacts who owed me, willing to turn the tide. Maggie’s expo

Elijah's pov-Isabella stood by the fireplace, her eye shadowed, her chestnut hair flowing, her navy coat wrinkled from sleepless nights. The media storm post-Blackvale gala—Ethan’s reckless return, his Maggie’s lies, his public assertion to “take” her back—had pushed us below. My eyes preyed with an inferno fed by blood and affection, for Isabella, her courage, her scars, her hope. We swore to find Maggie, the phantom that had disappeared following her admission, and carry her to the light, whatever the sacrifice. “We can not stay here, Elijah. Maggie, and She, is aware of too much.” Isabella said softly. I nodded, my boots scraping on the wooden flooring, my Blazer spun aside for a leather jacket, a gesture of thanks to the shadows we’d loved. My heart ached for her, for the torment in her looks—Ethan, with his taunt of her mother’s kidnapping, the newspapers’ “KILLER” motif, Johnny’s prison knife strike. She hadn’t spoken out much now, her quiet a power, but I didn’t push it. I was

Ethan's pov-My gray eyes sweep the boardroom; my custom suit is a second skin as I take the spot at the front, the CEO of an empire I had saved from ruin. My gala, my “apology” to Isabella, my “unity” proposal, was a farce, but a necessary one; my performance had been for the media and the shareholders, while I span the conspiracy behind the scenes. Maggie leaking the tapes, revealing my lies about the bullet, framing Elijah, and Lilian, had turned half the world into chaos, but my spin, proclaiming her a jilted, unhinged deceiver, had worked. Vance and the rest of the board nod with approval; half the world was on my side; their desire for power—that I granted them—was mine to manipulate. Isabella, unshackled and with Elijah, was a fluttering threat; her Ashcroft empire was still the most radiant treasure of all, and I was willing to incinerate the entire world for her. My apology tour was another calculated veil. I had the doors to Blackvale’s most loyal departments tore apart – le

Bellas pov The Covenant Hill list, my mother’s maiden name still uncrossed at the top – Vivianne Hawkings – burned in my mind, a beacon of hope and dread. My fierce eyes met hers in the mirror; my hair knotted as I sat in our Chicago safehouse, while the city’s pulse hummed faintly beyond the loft’s walls. I was positive my mother, Evelyn, was alive but snared in The Oracle: the Circle of Nine. I tugged at every string desperate to fix the conspiracy that connected her to Victor’s syndicate, Maggie’s treachery, and Ethan’s machination— the photo of her in that psychiatric ward with Maggie lurking in the background, the bloodstained locket. An echo she was out there, alive — or her voice had been forever silenced. I hadn’t told Elijah about my search, but the list – the list changed everything. I would need to, soon. So I started with Maria a former maid from my exhausted years living in Victor’s stronghold in San Francisco. I found her in a modest apartment in Oakland, the day turnin