All Chapters of The CEO's Undercover Heiress : Chapter 11 - Chapter 18

Isabella's POV ​The room is gray. Padded walls. No windows. It is designed to make people talk. Silence in a room like this feels like a vacuum. It pulls the truth out of you just to fill the space.​I sat in the middle. My hands were flat on the cold metal table. My father stood in the corner, a shadow in a three-thousand-dollar suit. He was checking his reflection in the two-way mirror.​"You look like a victim, Isabella," Arthur said. "That’s good. Keep the shoulders tight. Don't look at the lens. Look at the floor."​"I am not a victim," I said.​"To the public, you are. Victims are profitable. Victims get sympathy. Sympathy buys us the time we need to finalize the Sterling acquisition."​I didn't answer. I looked at the grain of the metal table. Small scratches. Probably from someone’s wedding ring. Or a pen.​"The journalist is a shark," Arthur continued. "Sarah Jenkins. She’ll try to bait you. She’ll ask about the fire. She’ll ask about the Sterling boy. You tell her you were

Isabella's POV ​The Vane Tower is an ivory cage. Glass and steel. It feels like it’s humming. A low, electric vibration in the floorboards.​The DOJ is in the lobby. I can see them on the monitors. Men in windbreakers. They carry boxes. They look like movers, but they move like soldiers. They are here for the hard drives. They are here for my father.​Arthur is in his office. The door is mahogany. It’s thick. I can still hear him screaming at a lawyer. The sound is muffled. Like a dog barking in a neighbor's yard.​I sat in the corridor. I didn't hide. I sat on a bench meant for waiting.​My phone buzzed.​L.S.​I didn't answer. I looked at the screen until it went dark. Then it buzzed again.​I picked up. I didn't say hello.​"The service elevator," Liam said. His voice was tight. "The freight entrance on 48th. My team has the bypass."​"I have the data," I said.​"Leave it. Just get out."​"I can't leave it."​"Isabella. Now."​I stood up. My legs felt heavy. I went to the server r

POV: IsabellaThe penthouse was a cage with a better view. Liam’s view.I stood in the center of the living room. The floor was polished stone. Cold. It reflected the recessed lighting like a dark lake. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, Manhattan was a grid of electric fire."The security is proprietary," Liam said. He was standing by the door, coat still on. He didn't come in. He hovered. "Encrypted biometric entry. No one gets in without my authorization. Not even the board.""I am not a board member," I said."You're a Vane.""That’s why I’m leaving."I set my bag on the marble counter. It made a soft thud. It was the only thing I owned that hadn't been searched by the DOJ or charred by the lighthouse fire. Inside was a change of clothes and the master drive."Isabella, the street is a mess," Liam said. His voice was tight. He moved with a slight hitch in his shoulder—a structural flaw I had caused. "The press is camped out at your father’s place. They’re at the office. This is

​Isabella's POV ​The ink was black. It looked like a stain on the ivory paper.​I watched the tip of the fountain pen. It hovered a millimeter above the signature line. This was the trigger. If I touched the paper, the trust would exhale ten billion dollars into the world. It would also bind my name to Liam’s in a legal ledger that the press would call a romance and the SEC would call a merger.​"The witnesses are ready," the lawyer said. He stood in the corner of the Westchester sunroom. He was a shadow in a three-piece suit.​I looked at Liam.​He was leaning against the glass wall. His arms were crossed. He looked like a man watching a countdown. Strategic. Distant. He didn't look like a groom. He looked like a closer.​"Isabella," he said.​"I’m reading."​"You've read it three times."​"The fourth is for the things you didn't say."​Liam’s expression didn't change. His eyes remained fixed on the document. He was a wall of steel and calculated silence.​I signed.​The loop of the