The CEO's Undercover Heiress 의 모든 챕터: 챕터 71 - 챕터 80

POV: IsabellaThe Grand Central Terminal was a cavern of echoes and shadows, a monument to a time when travel was an act of grace rather than a desperate flight. Beneath the iconic celestial ceiling, the midnight crowd was thin—mostly weary commuters and the invisible people who called the marble corners home.Marcus led me through the concourse, his pace quick but steady. He didn't look back, but I could feel the tension radiating off him. Every few steps, his hand would brush against the heavy weight of the laptop bag slung over his shoulder—the bag that held the true Julian Vane files."We’re almost there," Marcus whispered, steering me toward the rows of brass-plated safe-deposit lockers near the luggage claim. "Once we drop the drive, we head for the subway. We don't wait for Liam. That was the deal.""The deal was to survive," I said, my eyes scanning the balcony above us. "Liam is out there being hunted so we can move freely. If we just dump the evidence and run, we’re leaving

POV: LiamThe lobby of Sterling Tower didn't recognize me.I stood before the security turnstiles, my soaked suit clinging to my frame like a second skin. The marble floors—the ones I had polished with my own pride for years—stretched out like a cold, white desert. I reached for my biometric scan, but the sensor didn't even flicker. It remained a dull, indifferent red."Can I help you, sir?" a guard asked. He was new. He didn't know the face of the man whose name was etched in the glass above the door."I’m here for the board meeting," I said. My voice was steady, though my lungs felt like they were filled with glass shards from the run across the city."The executive floors are closed to the public today, sir. There’s a private session in progress.""Tell Director Halloway that the ghost is in the lobby," I said, leaning over the desk. "Tell him that if he doesn't clear me for the express lift in ten seconds, I’m going to start shouting the details of the 2014 pension theft to the to

POV: IsabellaThe silence that followed my announcement wasn’t quiet. It was the sound of an empire’s heart stopping. The server room, usually filled with the comforting, mechanical hum of progress, felt like a tomb where the oxygen had just run out.Eleanor stood frozen, the violet glow of the override terminal still reflecting in her eyes, though the light was dimming as the system realized it had lost its grip. She looked at the laptop on my lap, then at me, then at the heavy, iron door. For the first time in my life, I didn't see a queen or a monster. I saw a woman who had just realized she was standing in a house of cards during a gale."You sent it?" she whispered. The word was thin, fragile. "To the employees?""One hundred thousand people, Mother," I said, my voice steady despite the lingering vibration in my chest. "The people you stole from. The people whose futures were used to buy your gowns and your marble foyers. They don't need a judge to tell them what you are. They ha

​POV: Isabella​The mailbox sat on the corner of the quiet Brooklyn street like a blunt, blue anchor. I watched it through the cafe window, my fingers tracing the rim of the paper coffee cup. Across from me, Liam—or "Lee," as the air between us was trying to learn—wasn't looking at the box. He was looking at his hands, the gauze over his palms looking stark against the cheap Formica table.​"He wouldn't have come here if it wasn't urgent," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Marcus doesn't do house calls for social reasons."​"Marcus doesn't exist anymore," Liam replied, his eyes finally shifting to the street. "If he’s still moving, it means the board didn't just collapse. It means the secondary players are scavenging the remains. He’s not working for the Sterling name. He’s working for the contract."​"And who holds the contract now?"​Liam didn't answer. He stood up, his movement lacking the usual effortless grace of a man who owned the air he breathed. He looked stiff, pained, and

POV: IsabellaThe world was no longer made of data. It was made of cold air, the sharp scent of ozone, and the terrifying, heavy weight of my own limbs. The "Hum"—that constant, electric companion that had lived in the marrow of my bones for years—was gone. In its place was a silence so absolute it felt like a physical pressure against my eardrums.But the silence was a lie."The Share, Liam," my mother’s voice cut through the dark, sharp as a glass shard. "The gold foil. Place it on the table and step back, or I’ll find out exactly how much a human heart can take before it simply quits."I blinked, my vision slowly adjusting to the beam of the flashlight. The barrel of the gun was a dark, hollow eye inches from my face. My mother stood behind it, her lab coat stark and white, her face as motionless as the steel cabinets surrounding us. She wasn't a doctor anymore. She wasn't a CEO. She was a woman who had lost her godhood and was trying to buy it back with a bullet.Liam didn't move.