Chapter 12.

Isabella Donovan stepped into the dimly lit alley way, finding her way through the maze of doors until she got to the 3rd floor of office of Samuel Grant the, private investigator she had hired for the scandal. The faint hum of computers filled the air, their flickering screens illuminating the cluttered room. Surveillance cameras blinked, their lenses pointed at the walls adorned with maps and documents, the remnants of old cases long closed.

Grant didn't bother with pleasantries as he straightened from his desk, nodding at Isabella as she approached. His face, rugged and lined with years of experience, bore the cold professionalism she had come to expect from him. Isabella's icy exterior mirrored his, her calculated calm barely concealing the firestorm swirling beneath. She wasted no time, flipping open the manila folder he had left for her on his desk, scanning the initial report with quick, sharp movements.

"Can you find them?" Isabella's voice was low, precise, and cutting, betraying none of the tension she felt. Her knuckles whitened as they gripped the edge of the desk, but her face remained a mask of composure. She refused to let her emotions cloud the task at hand. This was her world—control, strategy, survival.

Grant looked through the documents contained in the envelope then, looked her straight in the eyes, his tone cautious but firm. "Whoever sent that envelope is clever, but not clever enough. They've covered their tracks, but I've dealt with worse. I'll get you a name," he said, his fingers tapping methodically on the keyboard, scanning through digital traces, sifting through data with a precision only years of tracking elusive targets could hone.

Isabella's lips tightened into a thin line. "Good. Spare no expense. And remember," she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper, "this never leaves this room. Make sure the trail leads nowhere, and clean up after you're done."

Grant's eyes flickered to hers for a moment, understanding the gravity of her words. He nodded again, his attention returning to the glowing screen before him.

Satisfied, Isabella straightened, her expression unreadable. "Keep me updated."

Back at her study, Isabella dialed Sophia Montgomery. She rarely bothered with formalities, and this call was no exception. "Sophia, I'll be away from the main office for some time," Isabella's tone was clipped, businesslike, leaving no room for further discussion. But Sophia, ever perceptive, sensed something was off.

"Isabella, is everything alright?" Sophia asked, her curiosity piqued.

"I won't be gone long," Isabella replied, her words sharp and final.

Sophia paused. "Is there something I should know? I could help. You've trusted me before."

Isabella's eyes hardened as she stared out of the window, watching the bustling city below with a detachment that mirrored her tone. "This isn't about trust, Sophia. It's about protection. You're not ready for this. And frankly, some matters are better left… undiscovered."

Sophia's heart sank at the coldness of the dismissal. "I understand," she said softly, though frustration bubbled beneath her polite words. Isabella's world was a dangerous one, and despite their growing closeness, there were still walls between them.

Isabella hung up, her mind already moving to the next step. She couldn't afford distractions, not now.

Later that evening, Isabella gathered the few people she could trust in a private club, a shadowy place where loyalty could be bought and discretion was guaranteed. The room, dimly lit with polished wood and dark leather, held an air of exclusivity. Marcus, the hacker she had known for years, sat at one end of the table, his fingers resting on the edge of a sleek laptop. Lauren, a former intelligence officer with a talent for erasing digital footprints, leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharp, assessing.

Isabella wasted no time with pleasantries. "You've all been briefed. The documents that have surfaced cannot exist. Not in any form," she stated, her voice calm, but with an edge of menace that made everyone sit up straighter. "I want everything destroyed. No traces, no backups. You'll be well compensated, but failure is not an option."

The tension in the room was palpable. Marcus exchanged a glance with Lauren, both understanding the magnitude of the task. This wasn't just about wiping files; this was about obliterating every shred of evidence that could ruin Isabella.

Lauren spoke first, his tone professional. "We'll need to know if there are any physical copies, any hidden servers we haven't accounted for."

Isabella's gaze darkened. "I trust you to find out." Her eyes swept across the room, locking onto each of them in turn. "Make no mistake—this ends here. I expect results."

Days later, Grant made the call Isabella had been waiting for. The answer she feared, but had somehow already known. "It's Carter Devereux."

Isabella's jaw tightened, her expression stony as she paced at her study, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. "I had a feeling it was him," she muttered under her breath. Devereux had been a thorn in her side for years, but this—this was personal. The blackmail attempt, the documents he held over her, it was all part of a calculated vendetta.

"Anything else?" Isabella asked, her voice steady despite the storm of thoughts raging in her mind.

"He's using old connections, probably found out because you both worked with Gregory Mullins, your former Boss," Grant continued.

Isabella stopped pacing. It made sense now—Carter had dug into her past, found her one weak spot, and exploited it. But if he thought she would crumble under the weight of his threats, he was gravely mistaken. Isabella Donovan didn't fall. She retaliated.

"I'll handle it from here," she said, hanging up without another word.

That evening, Isabella called another meeting. This time, the stakes were higher. "We need to get into Carter's system. Destroy everything he has," she told Marcus and Lauren. There was no room for hesitation, not with a man like Devereux. He thrived on power, manipulation, and fear. But so did Isabella.

Marcus's fingers flew over his keyboard as he worked to break into Carter's firewalls, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Lauren, standing beside him, monitored the progress, his gaze never wavering from the screen. Hours passed, but finally, Marcus leaned back, exhaling.

"Everything's gone," he said, his voice tinged with exhaustion but also triumph.

Lauren nodded. "No backups, no traces. It's as if it never existed."

Isabella, standing in the shadows of the room, allowed herself a brief moment of satisfaction. "Good. Now we move to the next phase."

Isabella arranged a meeting with Carter, choosing an upscale restaurant, knowing that the luxury and opulence would feed his ego. When she arrived, dressed in a sleek black dress that exuded power, Carter was already seated, a smug grin plastered across his face. He thought he had won.

"Isabella," he greeted her, leaning back in his chair, his confidence radiating from every pore. "What brings you to my table?"

Isabella didn't smile. "What do you want, Carter?"

His grin widened, savoring the moment. " So you finally figured out it was me, well I want you out of my way. You've had your time, Isabella, but you're too powerful now. It's time someone knocked you down a peg."

Isabella tilted her head, her eyes cold and calculating. "What will it take to make you stop?"

Carter leaned forward, his arrogance dripping from every word. "I want your company. Your assets. Everything. I want you under me"

Isabella pretended to consider his words, her expression softening, though her mind was already ten steps ahead. She feigned defeat, giving Carter exactly what he wanted. "I'll have my business paperwork ready by Friday," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Carter, blinded by his own ambition, didn't see the trap she had set.

In the days that followed, Isabella fed Carter carefully crafted pieces of false information, leading him deeper into her web. Each document, each conversation, was designed to make him believe he had her cornered. And as he boasted to his inner circle, dropping hints of his impending victory, Isabella waited.

When the moment was right, she made her move. Marcus intercepted private emails and documents that incriminated Carter in a web of illegal business transactions, bribery, and insider trading. When he was done, Isabella wasted no time. She sent Carter a message with a single, chilling line: "I know everything about your frauds and I am using it against you"

Panic set in. Carter, once so confident, now found himself scrambling. He tried to confront Isabella, but when he met her, she remained calm, her expression unyielding as she slid the incriminating evidence across her desk to him.

"I own you now," Isabella whispered, her voice like ice.

Carter's face drained of color, his entire career hanging by a thread. But Isabella wasn't done. As rumors had began to spread, tarnishing his reputation, she delivered the final blow.

"Oh, and Carter," Isabella said, rising from her chair, her voice smooth and dangerous. "This little game isn't over yet. I'll be in touch."

Carter stumbled out of the room, his mind reeling. He had become Isabella's puppet, and the strings were wrapped tightly around his neck.

And Isabella? She was already planning her next move.