Chapter 11.

Carter Devereux leaned back in his high-backed leather chair, the gleam from the polished mahogany desk reflecting his cold smile. The dim light of his office barely illuminated the walls, which were lined with trophies from his corporate conquests. Each one marked a victory, a downfall of someone who had underestimated him. Now, his greatest victory was in sight—Isabella Donovan, the once untouchable woman at the pinnacle of the business world, was about to crumble. On his sleek laptop screen, the security feed showed a courier, clad in a nondescript gray uniform, handing over a thick envelope to Isabella's secretary. He imagined the chaos about to be unleashed the moment she opened it.

Carter's lips curled into a slow, malicious grin. His fingers steepled together as he exhaled, satisfaction dripping from every pore. Years of planning, waiting, watching Isabella rise to the top—just so he could bring her crashing down—were finally coming to fruition.

"It's only a matter of time before she breaks," Carter said, his voice smooth yet laced with venom. Malcolm, his assistant, stood a few steps away, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. He had worked for Carter long enough to know that in moments like these, silence was the only answer. He simply nodded, eyes downcast, not daring to interrupt his boss as he savored his victory.

Carter didn't just want Isabella out of the corporate world—he wanted her annihilated. His eyes narrowed as the screen flickered, showing the door to Isabella's office closing. The seed of doubt had been planted, and now all he had to do was sit back and watch it grow.

Several months earlier…

The luxurious suite of a five-star hotel overlooked the city below, bathed in the soft glow of twilight. Carter sat on a plush leather sofa, a cigar smoldering between his fingers. Across from him, a private investigator named Reece slid a thick dossier across the glass coffee table. The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with the scent of tobacco and the weight of secrets.

"That's everything we found on Gregory Mullins' death," Reece said in a low voice, glancing briefly at Carter before averting his gaze. He knew the stakes—what they were about to uncover could destroy a career, if not more.

Carter flipped open the dossier, his eyes scanning the pages with the practiced ease of a man accustomed to handling sensitive information. Photographs of Gregory Mullins, financial records, reports, and old newspaper clippings filled the file. Mullins' death had been ruled an accident—a heart attack in his office late one night—but Carter wanted something more. Something that would implicate Isabella Donovan in a way that no one would ever forget.

"Isabella's name is all over these documents," Reece said, pointing to a page showing questionable financial transfers and forged signatures. "She buried this well, but not deep enough."

Carter's smile was slow, deliberate. He leaned back, taking a long drag of his cigar. This wasn't just about business anymore. This was personal. Gregory Mullins had been more than just a mentor to Isabella—he had been Carter's, too, before she took away his attention. Now, Carter held the power to destroy her, and he intended to wield it with precision. "I want you to find every person connected to Mullins. Colleagues, employees, anyone who suspected foul play. Spread the rumors, discreetly. By the time I'm done, Isabella won't have a reputation left to defend."

The present…

Isabella sat at her sleek glass desk, her hand shaking slightly as she stared at the contents scattered before her. The legal documents were incriminating, the accusations clear. They pointed to her involvement in Gregory Mullins' death, something she had tried to forget, something she had thought she buried along with Gregory himself.

Her pulse quickened as memories resurfaced. Gregory pacing in his office, the desperate look in his eyes as he poured another drink. "They're closing in on me, Isabella," he had whispered that night, his voice shaky, his hands trembling. "If they find out, it's over."

She remembered standing there, calculating, watching him fall apart. Gregory had been her mentor, the man who had opened doors for her. But she wasn't going to let his mistakes destroy her future. That night, he had confided in her, and by morning, he was dead.

Isabella had moved swiftly, using her contacts and influence to clean up any trace of her involvement. She had forged documents, made financial transfers disappear, and made sure Mullins' death would appear as nothing more than an unfortunate accident and nothing linked to her.

Now, as she stared at the evidence before her, she realized someone had found the cracks in her armor.

Across the city, in his dimly lit office, Carter poured himself a glass of bourbon. He swirled the amber liquid before taking a sip, the burn sliding down his throat. He had made the first move, and now it was time for the world to know about Isabella's darkest secret. "Leak the story," Carter instructed Malcolm, not even turning to face him. "Just enough to stir up suspicion. I want the media to feast on this like vultures. But don't move too fast—I want her to feel every moment of it."

Malcolm nodded, already tapping away on his phone. Within hours, the first headlines would start to surface. "Questions Resurface About the Death of Gregory Mullins," they would read. The story would spread like wildfire, igniting doubts and fears in the minds of Isabella's investors.

Back at Isabella's Study…

Her phone buzzed relentlessly, notifications piling up as she swiped through the screens. Her assistant entered, his face blank but his eyes wide with concern. "You need to see this," he said quietly, holding out a tablet. The headlines blazed across the screen like a wildfire in her mind, her stomach twisting as she read the damning words.

Panic seized her. How had this happened? She had been so careful. Her mind raced, flipping through every scenario, every deal she had ever made, trying to figure out who could have betrayed her. Who could know?

Her phone buzzed again—a message from one of her oldest business contacts. "We need to talk. There's a lot of heat coming your way." The room seemed to spin. Isabella clutched the edge of her desk, her knuckles turning white.

Carter, meanwhile, was moving quickly, but not too quickly. He had already planted seeds of doubt among her investors, whispering to key stakeholders that Isabella's leadership was in question. He knew how fragile confidence could be in the business world—a few well-placed rumors were all it took to start a chain reaction.

One by one, her investors began to pull back, their support faltering. Carter watched it all unfold, his fingers tapping rhythmically on his desk. Soon, Isabella wouldn't just be fighting for her reputation—she would be fighting for her company's survival.

A few hours later…

Isabella's heels clicked loudly against the polished floor of a dimly lit restaurant on the edge of town. She had called in favors with old contacts, desperate to uncover who had leaked the information. She was grasping at straws, trying to stay one step ahead of the storm building around her.

Seated in a booth at the back, a man in his late fifties with a weathered face and sharp eyes glanced up as she approached. He had once been a valuable ally, a fixer in the corporate world, but now he was just another relic of a time she thought she had left behind.

"Isabella," he greeted her, his voice low, as if they were discussing something as mundane as the weather. "I didn't expect to see you again."

"Nor did I," Isabella said, sliding into the booth. Her voice was cold, but inside, she was barely holding it together. "Someone's digging into Mullins' death. I need to know who and how much they know."

The man's eyes flickered with something that looked like regret. "It's not just someone," he said. "There's a whole network. Someone big, someone with deep pockets, has been pulling strings to ruin you."

Isabella's blood ran cold. She clenched her fists beneath the table, but outwardly, she remained calm. "Do you know who it is?"

"I can't say for sure," the man replied. "But this person knows exactly what they're doing. They're hitting you where it hurts most, and they won't stop until there's nothing left."

"I would advise you look for who you have wronged and make amends''

Isabella signed, though not many persons knew she her as the owner of her enterprise, some did. She tried to think of the enemy but couldn't figure out exactly who it was. She knew she had to be one step ahead, she had to do all it took to find out who the person was.

Carter sat in his office, the faint glow of the city lights casting shadows across his face. He was in control, and he knew it. Isabella might have been one of the most formidable women in the business world, but now she was just another target. He would destroy her, just like he had destroyed anyone who had dared to cross him. He leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "It's only the beginning."

Isabella's walked quietly across concrete floor of the underground parking garage. Her heart pounded in her chest as she clutched her phone, the message on the screen flashing before her eyes. "I've seen you. Meet me on the third floor." The air was thick with tension as she climbed the dimly lit stairwell, her nerves on edge. Whoever had sent the message knew too much, and Isabella needed answers. The parking garage was eerily quiet, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the empty space. Her grip tightened around her phone as she reached the third floor.