Chapter 3 - Isabella’s Dead Father Was Apparently Still Alive, and the Evidence Suggested He Had Been Building a Second Empire Beneath the One She InheritedIsabella stared at the phone.
“That's impossible.”
I didn't disagree.
A man's name can survive death.
A phone number shouldn't.
The device had just shown a recent message.
YOU HAVE ONE HOUR.
Then another.
THE QUEEN MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN HER EMPIRE AND HER LIFE.
Isabella's jaw tightened.
“My father died in a plane crash.”
“Did you see the body?”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“That matters.”
Security cleared the ballroom.
The guests were evacuated.
Only trusted people remained.
Isabella ordered every internal camera reviewed.
We found a second anomaly.
A man had entered the estate six hours earlier.
His face had been partially obscured.
But the system recognized him as a senior member of Isabella's family.
Her uncle.
Dead for twelve years.
The pattern became obvious.
People were not necessarily dead.
They were disappearing.
Then reappearing when useful.
I explained the technical architecture.
“The cloned biometrics mean someone has access to your deepest security database.”
Isabella asked:
“Could Dominic have done it?”
“Possibly.”
Dominic stared at me.
“You really trust her?”
“No.”
“Then why are you helping?”
“Because my daughter is in this room.”
His expression softened.
“I understand.”
Lily approached the security console.
She studied the map.
“There.”
“What?”
“The cameras.”
She pointed.
There was one camera that hadn't failed during the blackout.
A tiny maintenance camera.
It had recorded the attacker.
We replayed the footage.
A man moved through the garage.
He removed his jacket.
Underneath was a security uniform.
Then he entered Isabella's private vehicle.
He wasn't alone.
A woman waited.
She had long blonde hair.
Isabella recognized her.
“Carver's assistant.”
“Your father's assistant?”
“Yes.”
“She died with him.”
Isabella's voice became quiet.
“She shouldn't be here.”
I watched the footage.
Then noticed something.
She handed the man an envelope.
The envelope contained my name.
I froze.
“Why is my name in your family's operation?”
Isabella looked at me.
“I don't know.”
The envelope had a photograph of my daughter.
Lily.
Taken outside our apartment.
I felt something cold move through me.
Someone had been watching my child.
Not for days.
Months.
“Isabella.”
“Yes?”
“I want out.”
“You can't.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever did this knows your daughter exists.”
She was right.
I hated it.
But she was right.
Then Lily spoke.
“They know my name.”
I crouched.
“How?”
“They called me.”
My blood stopped.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Who?”
She thought.
“A lady.”
“What did she say?”
“She asked if Daddy still fixed cars.”
I stared at Isabella.
Someone had contacted my daughter.
That meant they had my personal information.
My home address.
My routines.
Everything.
I turned to Dominic.
“How many people knew Ethan Carter lived where he does?”
He looked at Isabella.
“Not many.”
“Name them.”
“Isabella.”
“Who?”
“Her father.”
I froze.
Then:
“Your father knew me?”
Dominic hesitated.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“You worked for one of his companies.”
I stared.
Five years ago, I had believed my career was destroyed by Dominic.
But perhaps I had been wrong.
Someone above him had wanted me removed.
Someone who wanted my technology.
Someone who later used it to create a security system capable of taking over Isabella's empire.
Samuel Voss.
I remembered his name.
The man who had once tried to buy my patents.
The man I refused.
He had threatened me.
Then my company collapsed.
I looked at Isabella.
“Voss.”
She nodded.
“My father's old banker.”
“Is he alive?”
“I don't know.”
“Find him.”
She did.
The result came within an hour.
Samuel Voss had been dead for six months.
Natural causes.
Cancer.
But bank records showed money had continued moving after his death.
Someone was using his identity.
Someone who knew everything he knew.
Then a new message appeared on the phone.
THE NETWORK HAS A NEW ARCHITECT.
I stared.
“Who?”
A name appeared.
ETHAN CARTER.
My own name.
My blood went cold.
“What?”
Someone had framed me as the architect of the conspiracy.
Isabella looked at me.
“I know you didn't do it.”
“How?”
“Because your daughter would have told me.”
Lily frowned.
“I don't lie.”
Isabella smiled.
“I know.”
Then every screen in the security room turned black.
A face appeared.
An older man.
Gray hair.
Cold eyes.
Isabella whispered:
“Dad.”
The man smiled.
“Hello, Isabella.”
She stepped toward the screen.
“You're dead.”
“No.”
He leaned closer.
“I was simply waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“For you to build everything I needed.”
Then he looked directly into the camera.
“At ten o'clock, your empire becomes mine.”
The screen went black.
Isabella stared.
Ten o'clock.
Three hours.
May you like
And for the first time, I realized the Bugatti had never been the target.
It had been the warning.
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