Chapter Three

You're going to get us both killed."

Gabriel Chen stood in Isabella's apartment doorway, his laptop bag slung over one shoulder and disapproval written across his face. She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, checking the hallway before closing the door.

"Stop being dramatic," Isabella said, heading to the kitchen where her own laptop sat open on the counter. "Everything went perfectly. He doesn't suspect a thing."

"Except for the part where security caught the breach." Gabriel dropped his bag on the couch and pulled out his computer. "I told you to wait until you had legitimate access. But no, you had to go in early and trigger every alarm in the building."

"I disabled the alarms."

"You disabled the obvious alarms. Cross has layered security systems, and the secondary one logs everything." Gabriel's fingers flew across his keyboard, code scrolling down the screen. "Lucky for you, I managed to redirect the access logs to make it look like a system glitch rather than a deliberate intrusion. But Caden's going to be watching now."

Isabella poured coffee into two mugs, her hands steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. "What did I access? Can they tell?"

"Financial records, client databases, exhibition contracts. Basically, everything we need to destroy his business from the inside." Gabriel accepted the coffee she offered. "But here's the problem: whoever reviews that footage is going to notice the timestamp. You were in his office for seventeen minutes. That's not a casual browse. That's industrial espionage."

"Then we need to give them a different explanation." Isabella's mind raced through possibilities. "What if we plant evidence that someone else used my credentials? A disgruntled employee or a competitor?"

"Already on it. I'm creating a digital trail that suggests your access card was cloned last week by someone in the IT department who got fired." Gabriel took a long drink of coffee. "But Isabella, you need to be more careful. One mistake and this whole thing falls apart."

"I know." She sat beside him, pulling up the files she'd copied from Caden's computer. "But look at what we got. He's planning to invest three million dollars into the contemporary art exhibition. If we can sabotage it, make the artists pull out or the donors withdraw funding, his gallery will take a massive financial hit."

Gabriel scrolled through the documents, his expression thoughtful. "These contracts have some interesting clauses. If the exhibition doesn't meet certain revenue projections, Caden personally guarantees the losses. That's unusual."

"Because he's desperate to prove himself." Isabella felt a grim satisfaction settling in her chest. "He wants to show he's different from his father. That he can build something meaningful. We're going to prove he's exactly like Derek—a failure who destroys everything he touches."

"And Marcus?" Gabriel's voice was quiet. "Your brother still talks to Caden regularly. What happens when he gets caught in the crossfire?"

The question made Isabella's stomach twist. She stood abruptly, moving to the window. "Marcus made his choice when he stayed friends with the man who killed our father."

"Caden didn't kill James. Derek did."

"Caden stood by and let it happen!" The words came out sharper than intended. Isabella pressed her forehead against the cool glass. "He could have stopped it. He could have warned us, helped us, or something. Instead, he chose his father over us. Over me."

Gabriel was silent for a moment. Then he said, "What if you're wrong about him?"

"I'm not."

"But what if you are? What if he tried to stop Derek and failed? What if he's spent the last five years trying to make amends?"

Isabella turned to face him. "Whose side are you on?"

"Yours. Always yours." Gabriel closed his laptop. "But I'm also your friend, which means I have to ask the hard questions. Is this really about justice for your father, or is this about a broken heart?"

The accusation hung between them like a blade.

"Get out," Isabella said quietly.

"Bella…."

"I said, get out. Take your files and your doubts and leave."

Gabriel studied her for a long moment, then gathered his things. At the door, he paused. "I'll keep helping you because I promised I would. But you should think about what you're really trying to destroy, Caden's business or the girl who used to love him."

The door closed behind him, leaving Isabella alone with her laptop and her anger.

She spent the next three hours reviewing every file she'd stolen, making notes on vulnerabilities and opportunities. The exhibition was the key. If she could ruin it, Caden would be financially devastated and professionally humiliated. Everything he was trying to build would crumble.

Just like her father's company had crumbled.

Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: "Ms. Valentine, this is Caden Cross. I wanted to personally welcome you to the team. Tomorrow at nine, we'll start with a tour of the gallery and introductions to the staff. Looking forward to working with you."

Isabella stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the screen. She should respond professionally, keep up the facade. But another part of her, the part that remembered being sixteen and believing Caden Cross was her future, wanted to throw the phone across the room.

She typed back: "Thank you, Mr. Cross. I'm excited to begin."

The response came immediately: "Please, call me Caden. We're going to be working closely together. Formality seems unnecessary."

Her heart hammered. Call him Caden. Like she used to, back when his name in her mouth felt like a promise.

"Of course. See you tomorrow, Caden."

She set the phone down before she could say something stupid, something that would give her away.

The apartment felt too small suddenly, too quiet. Isabella grabbed her jacket and headed out, needing air and distance and anything to stop the memories from drowning her.

The streets were busy with evening traffic, people rushing home from work or out to dinner. Normal lives. Uncomplicated lives. She walked without direction, letting the city absorb her.

Her phone rang. Marcus's name lit up the screen.

Isabella froze on the sidewalk, staring at it. She hadn't spoken to her brother in five years. Hadn't returned his calls or emails or desperate messages. As far as Marcus knew, she'd disappeared completely after the funeral.

The ringing stopped. Voicemail.

Thirty seconds later, the notification appeared. Against her better judgment, Isabella lifted the phone to her ear.

"Izzy, I know you won't answer, but I need to tell you something." Marcus's voice was older, wearier than she remembered. "Caden hired a new curator today. When he described her, something felt off. I can't explain it, but my gut says it's important. If you're out there, if you're listening to these messages I keep leaving... be careful. I don't know what you're planning, but Caden isn't the enemy. Derek is. Caden's been trying to make things right. He asks about you constantly. He never forgave himself for what happened to Dad."

The message ended.

Isabella stood frozen in the middle of the sidewalk, people flowing around her like water around a stone.

Her phone buzzed again. This time, a text from Caden: "Actually, before tomorrow, would you like to grab coffee tonight? There's a café near the gallery. I'd love to discuss your vision for the exhibition in a less formal setting."

Her fingers trembled as she typed: "What time?"

"Eight o'clock? The Blue Sparrow on Fifth Avenue."

Isabella checked her watch. One hour.

She should say no. Should maintain distance and professionalism. Should stick to the plan.

But Gabriel's words echoed in her mind: What are you really trying to destroy?

"I'll be there," she typed.

The response came instantly: "Perfect. I have a feeling we're going to make something incredible together, Ella."

Isabella closed her eyes, standing motionless while the city moved around her.

"You have no idea who I am," she whispered to the phone. "No idea at all.”