Chapter 2
1766 Words
Liam POV
The hallway of the apartment building smells of rot and old grease. I pull my cashmere coat tighter. My pride pushed me to follow her. I need to know why a girl in a fifteen dollar blazer has the mind of a financial titan.
I find Room 302. Bella Smith. I knock. The sound is a gunshot in the quiet hall. I hear a floorboard creak inside. She is standing behind the door. She is holding her breath.
"Open up, Bella. I know you are in there."
The door opens a crack. One eye stares at me. She looks small. She looks terrified. Her glasses sit crooked on her nose. She is a mess. But her eyes? They are sharp. They are defensive.
"Mr. Sterling? Why are you here?"
Her voice trembles. She is a bad liar. I see her hesitation. She wants to slam the door.
"You left your ID at the office."
I hold up a plastic card. It is a blank key. A trap. She reaches for it. I grab her wrist. Her skin is ice. I pull her closer to the gap.
"The Vane heiress went missing today," I say. I watch her pupils. They dilate. "She is a genius. She is arrogant. And she disappeared exactly four hours before a girl named Bella Smith showed up at my office with no background and a senior-level brain. What a coincidence."
Isabella does not flinch. Her expression goes flat. A cold wall of stone takes its place. This is not the reaction of a poor intern. This is the practiced mask of a socialite.
"I do not know who that is," she says. Her voice is a jagged blade. "Is that why you are here? To accuse your employees of being missing celebrities? Check my resume, Mr. Sterling. I am a nobody from a community college."
I shove my shoulder against the door. The frame creaks. I am stronger. I step into the room.
It is a grave. A single bed. A cracked window. There is no luxury here. I feel a flash of irritation. If she is Isabella Vane, why is she living in filth? Is this a game?
"If you are a nobody, why are you hiding in a hole like this?" I gesture to the stained ceiling. "Why do you walk like you own the street? Why did you fix the Davis projections in two hours? A community college girl doesn't know the Vane family's secret tax loopholes, Bella."
Isabella backs away. She hits the wall. She looks at the window. She is calculating her escape. Her chest heaves. I see the flicker of shame in her eyes as I look at her small, sad room.
"I am poor, not stupid," she snaps. Her pride flares. "I worked hard. I studied. Is it a crime for a girl like me to be better at your job than you are? Maybe you should hire better analysts instead of stalking your interns."
I step into her personal space. I want to crush her denial. I want to see the heiress crack. I grab her chin. I tilt her head back.
"Julian Miller was outside the office tonight," I whisper. "He was looking for someone. He looked right at you. You froze. You hid your face. Why?"
Isabella’s breath hitches. Her pulse thunders against my fingers. She is paralyzed. For a second, I see the mask break. I see a girl who is drowning.
"He... he didn't see me," she whispers.
"So you were hiding from him."
She bites her lip. She realizes her mistake. She pulls her head back with a jerk.
"I don't like men in black cars. They mean trouble for girls in this neighborhood. Leave, Mr. Sterling. Or I will call the police."
I laugh. The sound is dry. "With what phone? You don't even have a burner."
I look at her. I see the bruises under her eyes. I see the way her ribs show under the cheap shirt. She is starving. She is freezing. But she would rather die in this slum than admit she is a Vane.
My pride is a wounded thing. I hate her family. Her father ruined mine. But I hate Julian Miller more. Julian is a predator. If he finds her, he will break her.
"I don't care who you are," I lie. I need her close to find out the truth. "I care about results. The Davis merger is a war. I need a brain like yours. You cannot work from a grave. You're distracted by the cold and the rats."
I reach into my pocket. I pull out a wad of cash. I toss it on the bed.
"Pack your things. You are moving."
Isabella looks at the money like it is poison. "I am not for sale, Mr. Sterling."
"You are my assistant. Assistants live where I tell them to live. I have a corporate apartment. It is safe. It has a lock. And it has food. If you want to prove you aren't an heiress, then act like a girl who needs a job. A girl who needs a job doesn't turn down free rent."
Isabella looks at the window. She looks at the dark alley. She knows she is trapped.
"Fine," she says. "But I am not Isabella. My name is Bella. Remember that. If you call me by that other name again, I quit."
"We will see," I say.
I lead her out of the room. I lead her to my car. She sits in the leather seat. She looks at the dashboard. She looks like she is coming back to life.
I drive to my penthouse. I am not taking her to a corporate apartment. I am taking her to my home. I want her where I can watch her. I want to see her slip. I want to see if she knows how to use a French press or if she expects a maid to serve her.
We reach the top floor. The elevator opens.
"The guest suite is there," I point. "Sleep. We have a gala tomorrow night."
Isabella pales. "A gala? I cannot go. I have nothing to wear."
"You will go. You will wear what I provide. You will be my plus-one. No one will see your face. You will wear a mask."
I walk to the bar. I pour a drink. My mind is a storm.
"Why a gala?" she asks.
"Because the Vane family will be there," I say. I watch her face in the mirror. "They are announcing the reward for their missing daughter. I want to see how they react when I walk in with a mystery woman who knows all their secrets."
Isabella stands in the center of the room. She looks at the luxury. She looks like a queen in a peasant's rags.
"I am a weapon to you," she says.
"You are a genius, Bella. Weapons are only useful if they stay sharp. Get some rest."
Isabella nods. She walks toward the suite. She stops at the door.
"Goodnight, Liam."
She uses my first name. It feels like a brand.
I sit on my sofa. My phone buzzes.
It is a text from Felix. “The Vane family just hired a private investigator. They are tracking the bus routes from the gala.”
I look at the guest room door. I look at the message.
The hunt is on.
Isabella POV
The door clicks shut. I lean against it. My heart is a drum.
He knows.
Liam Sterling knows I am Isabella Vane. He is playing a game. He wants me to confess. He wants to own the Vane heiress to use against my father.
I look at the white marble bathroom. I look at the silk sheets. It is a trap. A beautiful, expensive trap.
I go to the mirror. I look at my hacked hair. I look at my tired eyes. My reflection looks like a stranger. Good. That is the goal.
"I am Bella Smith," I whisper. "I am a nobody."
I turn on the shower. The water is hot. I scrub my skin until it is red. I feel the shame of my weakness. I let him bring me here. I let him see my room.
Liam thinks he is the hunter. He thinks he is using me to hurt my father.
Fine. Let him think that.
I will use his home. I will use his clothes. I will use his protection. I will learn everything about Sterling Tech.
Julian called me a calculator in a dress.
I look at my reflection. My eyes are cold.
A calculator is only useful if it gives you the answer you want.
I am going to give Liam an answer he never expected.
I lie down in the soft bed. I am tired of being a ghost.
Tomorrow, I face my father. Tomorrow, I face Julian.
And I will do it right under Liam Sterling's nose.
I am almost asleep when I hear a sound. A soft click.
The guest room door is opening.
I freeze. My hand slides under the pillow. I find a heavy glass lamp. I do not breathe.
A shadow moves into the room. It is tall. It is wide.
"Bella?"
It is Liam. His voice is a low rasp. He is standing by the bed. He does not move closer.
"What do you want?" I ask. My pulse thunders in my ears.
"I forgot to tell you," he says. I can smell the Scotch. I can smell the power. "The dress for tomorrow is in the closet. It is red. Try not to bleed on it."
He leaves. The door shuts.
I reach for the closet. I pull the handle.
Inside is a red gown. It is identical to the one the woman was wearing on the terrace with Julian.
My blood runs cold.
He isn't just suspicious. He is mocking me. He knows I was there. He knows what I saw.
The war has started. And I am losing.
- Writer
