Chapter 9
1027 Words
Isabella
The next morning, I woke up determined to be rational.
A sensible goal.
An admirable goal.
A completely unsuccessful goal.
Because the moment I opened my eyes, two thoughts immediately appeared.
The first:
Someone may have tried to kill me.
The second:
Alessandro Moretti has very nice eyes.
I groaned and buried my face in my pillow.
Clearly, my priorities required serious adjustment.
Unfortunately, reality refused to cooperate.
The events of the previous night lingered in my mind.
The speeding car.
The police report.
The way Alessandro had looked at me when he arrived.
As though he genuinely cared whether I was hurt.
The memory unsettled me.
Not because it was unpleasant.
Quite the opposite.
And that was the problem.
I couldn't afford distractions.
Not now.
Not when things were becoming dangerous.
Not when my investigation was finally producing results.
Determined to focus, I got ready for work.
By the time I arrived at the newsroom, my thoughts were centered firmly on journalism.
Or at least mostly centered.
Progress.
---
Sophia was waiting beside my desk.
Coffee in hand.
Concern written all over her face.
"How are you feeling?"
"Tired."
She nodded knowingly.
"Mentally?"
I considered the question.
"Still standing."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the best one I've got."
Sophia sighed.
Then handed me coffee.
Friendship in liquid form.
I accepted gratefully.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Her expression softened.
"I'm glad you're okay."
The sincerity in her voice warmed my chest.
It was easy to forget how lucky I was.
Not everyone had people who worried about them.
People who showed up.
People who cared.
I made a mental note to appreciate that more often.
Then immediately ruined the moment by opening another investigation file.
Sophia rolled her eyes.
"Of course."
---
Several hours later, I found something.
Not proof.
But close.
Close enough to matter.
My pulse quickened as I stared at the document on my screen.
A transfer record.
Buried beneath layers of financial paperwork.
Easy to overlook.
Yet impossible to ignore once found.
The transaction connected one of Victor Hale's companies to an offshore account.
Normally, that wouldn't mean much.
Except the account had also appeared in documents related to a corruption inquiry from two years earlier.
I sat up straighter.
Heart racing.
This was it.
The first genuine connection.
The first piece of evidence suggesting that Victor Hale's business empire wasn't as legitimate as it appeared.
Excitement surged through me.
Followed quickly by caution.
One document wasn't enough.
I needed more.
Much more.
Still...
For the first time, I felt certain I was moving in the right direction.
Which was precisely why events elsewhere in the city were becoming more dangerous.
---
Victor Hale stared at the security photograph in silence.
The image showed Isabella exiting the police station.
Alive.
Uninjured.
The failed attack irritated him.
Failures generally did.
Especially expensive failures.
One of his men shifted nervously.
A mistake.
Victor disliked nervous people.
"They're getting closer."
His voice remained calm.
Controlled.
The most dangerous kind of calm.
The man swallowed.
"We can handle it."
Victor's gaze lifted.
Cold.
Sharp.
Unforgiving.
"You already failed once."
The room fell silent.
No one rushed to speak.
No one dared.
Because everyone present understood exactly how little patience Victor Hale possessed.
He tossed the photograph onto the table.
"The journalist continues digging."
The statement hung heavily in the air.
A problem.
An inconvenience.
A potential threat.
Victor leaned back in his chair.
Thinking.
Calculating.
Then finally smiled.
A thin smile.
The kind that never reached his eyes.
"If pressure doesn't work..."
The unfinished sentence was somehow worse than a complete one.
The men exchanged uneasy glances.
Because they understood.
And none of them liked what they understood.
---
Across the city, Alessandro Moretti received the latest report from Marco Romano.
The update did not improve his mood.
Not even slightly.
Marco closed the office door behind him.
"Victor's people are moving again."
Alessandro looked up from his desk.
Immediately alert.
"How sure are we?"
"Ninety percent."
Close enough.
Far too close.
The room fell silent.
Alessandro's thoughts drifted briefly toward Isabella.
Toward the fear she'd tried to hide after the attack.
Toward the stubborn determination that kept pushing her forward despite every warning.
Part of him admired it.
Another part wanted to lock her somewhere safe until this was over.
The second option was obviously impossible.
Isabella Hart would never tolerate being controlled.
The realization almost made him smile.
Almost.
Instead, he focused on the problem at hand.
"Increase surveillance."
Marco nodded.
Already expecting the order.
"And Isabella?"
A brief pause followed.
Then Alessandro answered.
"Protect her."
Simple words.
Yet they carried enormous weight.
Because in Alessandro's world, protection came with responsibility.
Commitment.
Risk.
And lately, Isabella was becoming a risk he cared far too much about.
---
That evening, I remained at the newsroom later than usual.
Most employees had already left.
The building felt quieter.
Still.
I liked it.
Silence made thinking easier.
And right now, I had a lot to think about.
My desk was covered in notes.
Names.
Connections.
Financial records.
Questions.
Always questions.
I rubbed my eyes.
Exhaustion was beginning to win.
Maybe Aunt Clara was right.
Maybe I needed rest.
The thought had barely formed when my computer screen flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then went black.
I frowned.
"Seriously?"
Technology always seemed to fail at the worst possible moment.
A second later, the monitor lit up again.
But instead of my documents, a single sentence appeared.
White letters against a black screen.
THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING.
My blood turned to ice.
I froze.
Completely.
Unable to move.
Unable to breathe.
The message remained visible for three long seconds.
Then disappeared.
The screen returned to normal.
As though nothing had happened.
As though I hadn't just been threatened through my own computer.
My heart hammered violently.
The newsroom suddenly felt far too empty.
Far too quiet.
And for the first time since this investigation began, fear outweighed curiosity.
Just for a moment.
Just long enough for me to realize something terrifying.
Whoever was behind this wasn't watching from a distance anymore.
They were getting closer.
And so was I.
TBC..........
- Writer
