Chapter 3 - Forty-Eight Hours in the Lion's Den
Lorenzo's private residence was not what Isabella expected.
She had imagined marble, armed guards, dark corridors, and the kind of cold luxury that made a person afraid to touch anything.
Instead, his home was enormous but strangely quiet.
Books lined the walls.
There were photographs.
A piano.
A kitchen that looked used.
A Christmas tree near the staircase.
Real ornaments.
Childhood ornaments.
A crooked paper angel taped near the bottom.
Isabella stopped.
"You have children?"
"No."
"Then who made that?"
"My sister."
"You have a sister?"
"She died."
The answer was simple.
The sadness in his voice was not.
Isabella looked away.
"I'm sorry."
"So am I."
He walked toward the kitchen.
"You should eat."
"I'm not hungry."
"You've had half a glass of champagne and nothing else since three."
"How do you know that?"
"I notice things."
She followed him.
"Do you notice everything about everyone?"
"Only people who matter."
She stopped.
He kept walking.
The sentence settled between them.
Mael and two guards remained outside.
Inside, Lorenzo heated soup himself.
That surprised her more than the mansion.
"You cook?"
"Terribly."
"It's soup."
"I know."
She laughed.
It was the first real laugh she'd managed all night.
He looked at her.
"There. Better."
"What?"
"You laughed."
She sat.
"Don't get used to it."
"I already am."
She stared at him.
He returned to the stove.
The next morning, Isabella woke in a guest room with sunlight across the floor and a headache she deserved.
She found a note on the desk.
Eat before coffee.
It was unsigned.
She smiled despite herself.
Then she saw the newspaper.
WIFE OF VUKOV SECRETARY MISSING AFTER CHRISTMAS PARTY.
Below it:
POLICE INVESTIGATE POSSIBLE FINANCIAL FRAUD.
Her stomach dropped.
"Lorenzo."
He entered the room already dressed.
"I know."
"They're saying I stole money."
"Yes."
"I've never touched that account."
"I know."
"They'll ruin me."
"Not if we move first."
He placed a tablet in front of her.
"The account was emptied at 2:13 a.m."
"I was here."
"I know."
"Then who did it?"
"Someone using your credentials."
She scanned the transaction list.
The withdrawals were impossible.
"These passwords are not mine."
"Look closer."
She did.
One account ending in 7714.
Her breath stopped.
"That's my old employee number."
"Exactly."
She looked at Lorenzo.
"Someone inside the company is using my identity."
"Someone who knows enough about you to make it believable."
A message appeared on the tablet.
From an unknown number.
STOP DIGGING INTO YOUR FATHER'S PAST OR THE NEXT PERSON WHO DISAPPEARS WILL BE LORENZO.
Her hands went numb.
Lorenzo read it.
He did not flinch.
Instead he took the tablet.
"Good."
She stared.
"Good?"
"Now they are scared."
"How can that be good?"
"Because fear makes careless people."
He looked at her.
"We need to go to the office."
"You said disappear."
"I changed my mind."
She smiled bitterly.
"You do that a lot."
"Only when someone threatens me."
They reached Meridian Tower before noon.
The lobby was chaos.
Employees whispered.
Security guards moved between doors.
Two police officers waited near reception.
Then Adrienne came through the revolving door.
He saw Isabella.
His expression changed from relief to panic.
"Isabella!"
He rushed toward her.
She stepped back.
He stopped.
"Thank God."
His face looked devastated.
"I've been worried sick."
"Really?"
He glanced at Lorenzo.
The two men held each other's gaze.
Adrienne swallowed.
"I was told she disappeared."
"I was told you were cheating on her," Lorenzo said.
The lobby went silent.
Adrienne's face hardened.
"That's private."
"Not when you use private affairs to hide corporate crimes."
Vivien appeared behind the police officers.
Her face was pale.
She looked directly at Isabella.
"I'm sorry."
Adrienne spun toward her.
"What are you doing here?"
"Ending this."
"Vivien—"
"You told me Isabella would sign those documents."
Isabella's blood ran cold.
"What documents?"
Vivien stepped forward.
"The transfer forms."
"Transfer of what?"
Vivien looked at Lorenzo.
"Vukov Holdings."
The entire lobby seemed to freeze.
Adrienne cursed under his breath.
Lorenzo smiled.
Not warmly.
Never warmly.
"So that's it."
Adrienne suddenly pulled out his phone.
"I need my lawyer."
"You won't," Lorenzo said.
"Are you threatening me?"
"No."
He stepped closer.
"I'm informing you."
Security guards moved in.
Adrienne looked around.
"What the hell is happening?"
Lorenzo looked at Isabella.
"He's been using your credentials to prepare a transfer of my voting shares."
Her eyes widened.
"Why mine?"
"Because if the signatures are fake, they'll blame you."
Vivien began crying.
"I didn't know it went this far."
"What did you think was happening?" Isabella asked.
"I thought we were just moving money."
"Whose money?"
"I don't know."
Lorenzo's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
"Mael?"
A pause.
"How long?"
Another pause.
"Get everyone out."
He hung up.
Isabella looked at him.
"What?"
He stared at her.
"Someone is inside the tower."
"What do they want?"
Lorenzo's answer came quietly.
"You."
The lights went out.
People screamed.
Gunshots cracked in the distance.
Lorenzo grabbed Isabella and pulled her behind a concrete column.
The world erupted.
Glass shattered.
Security alarms blared.
She clung to his coat.
"Stay behind me."
"What about everyone else?"
"They have guards."
Another shot.
Closer.
Lorenzo leaned toward her.
"When I move, you move."
"Where?"
"Down."
He took her hand.
Three seconds later, he ran.
They disappeared through a service corridor as bullets struck the wall behind them.
Isabella stumbled.
Lorenzo caught her.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Good."
"You?"
"Not yet."
They reached the underground garage.
Mael waited with the car.
As they drove away, Isabella looked back at the Meridian Tower burning in the reflection of the rear window.
"Who did this?"
Lorenzo looked forward.
"I have a guess."
"Who?"
"My uncle."
"And what does he want?"
Lorenzo's jaw tightened.
"The ledger."
"Christmas never ends."
He glanced at her.
"What?"
She remembered the note.
"My grandmother's box."
"Yes."
"The box is missing."
Lorenzo's eyes narrowed.
"Then your grandmother wasn't the one who hid the ledger."
"What do you mean?"
He looked at her.
"She hid the person who knew where it was."
Isabella felt a chill unrelated to winter.
"Who?"
May you like
Lorenzo stared through the windshield.
"Your father."
