Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Unmasked Heiress: Isabella Hartman is back: Kabanata 41 - Kabanata 50

Bella's pov-My boots clicked against the damp sidewalk as I raced toward Pier 39, San Francisco’s fog eating the city’s lights, my heart slamming in response to the anonymous text. My curls flogged my cheeks as I scanned the shadows, a mix of hope and suspicion churning inside of me. Tethered to my boot was a knife that felt like a cold anchor, but I clanked across a silent street and a black van screeched to a stop, tires smoking. Before I could even reach for my knife, men in black masks poured out, their hands like iron as they dragged me inside, and the door slammed so hard behind me that it reverberated through my chest.My wrists hurt where the zip ties dug into them, the blindfold’s rough material scraping at my face as my kidnappers collectively screamed out through the fog-filled streets. I was seized with adrenaline, but my mind felt sharp, followed the turns — left on Market, right toward Chinatown — counted seconds, mapped the route. The Oracle needs me. I had spit in the

Ethan's pov The docks warehouse smelt of fish and diesel, San Francisco’s pervasive fog seeping through its rusted walls as I faced Talia Voss, the Third Oracle, her cold eyes dissecting me like a specimen. My wrists still hurt from the cuffs I’d worn hours ago, my escape from the police transport a blur orchestrated by her operatives. My brother’s trap–bugs in my office, tapes of my orders for Maggie’s murder, my assassination plot against him–cost me Blackvale. Hours later, my empire was ashes on the news, my headquarters aflame. My gray eyes burned with fury, my tailored suit in shreds, but Talia’s offer was a lifeline: “Find Isabella,” her voice was sharp, uncompromising. “Her Codex is our future.” My throat rattled with fury and my vision churned with thoughts of vengeance. My twin had triumphed me in this game, but I would claw back my throne at any cost. We went to The Oracle’s haven under Nob Hill, the chamber cut of stone with serpentine sigils etched on walls. Talia’s figur

Elijah's pov“Mr Blackvale, the Oracles say hello,” the voice of the pilot crackled over the intercom system, cold, deliberate, and my flight to London shuddered in the midst of a mid-Atlantic lurch. I held the armrests, my eyes narrowing from amber slits. The Oracle had managed to locate me, stretching their grasp across oceans, as I’d suspected they would. My burner phone was cheap and dead, Collin’s signal had stopped sounding, and Isabella was in Tokyo, pursuing Cassandra Lin, blissfully ignorant of the trap I’d guided her into with my London gambit and new indentured third party. My heart was beating hard, not out of fear, but the burning urgency to get to her, to shield her from all the darkness.The plane tipped steeply and dropped toward the empty airfield, its runway a pale scratch on the moonless night. Beneath me, Oracle agents were silhouetted, armed and accurate, a death squad to silence me. A grim smile curled my lips round — I’d survived their hospital ambush, Ethan and

Bella's pov-The purring of the private jet was a constant drumbeat as we flew toward Dubai, the fog of San Francisco long left behind. I rested my head on Elijah's shoulder, leaning on him, listening to the steady tempo of his pulse under my cheek. My red coat was on the pile next to me, loose chestnut hair. “I’m scared,” I confessed, my voice low and whispery. “Not of them, but of losing you.” Elijah turned my face, hot resolution in his amber eyes. “You’ll never lose me,” he’d said, his voice a pledge, crushing his lips against mine, a flame that scorched my terror, our tongues braiding in a frantic tango.Malik Reza joined us in the secret safehouse in Al Quoz; alert, sharp eyes scanning, the light of his hacked Oracle intel reflected in his laptop screen. The air was heavy with dust and tension, the safehouse’s concrete walls a far cry from Tokyo’s neon. “Talia’s splitting The Oracles,” Malik muttered, his voice low as his fingers danced over the keys. “Vivianne’s holding back, t

Bella's pov“Keep low,” I hissed, my words lost in Dubai’s shrieking wind as Elijah and I flop-bounced onto a rooftop, the skyline glinting down at us. I read the meaning in Elijah’s amber gaze: ready and unwavering despite the blood that was beginning to leach from torn gashes in his skin and leather jacket. My hands cupped his face, my fingers trembling under the heavy burden of our escape from Malik's safehouse, Ethan's operatives breaking windows, their bullets a storm we barely made it through. “I can’t lose you,” I whispered, my voice breaking, the fear and the love meeting and splintering. His fingers roughened by my hair drifted along my cheekbones, anchoring me to the present as he kept his words a breath away. You won’t,” he promised, his voice rough and raw, pulling me close, our foreheads touching, as the desert roared around us at night.A helicopter’s thrum pierced us, its spotlight pinning us. The rope ladder unfurled as an FBl ally, Agent Marcus Kane, whom Collin had c