Divorced, Then Priceless

Chapter 4

I woke up with my face buried in a pillow and it smelled so much like lavender and old memories.

For a while I couldn’t move. I laid there, staring at the pale ceiling, and I was trying to remember where I was.

Then it all came rushing back. The dinner, the text, the divorce papers and the note.

I groaned and pulled the pillow over my head.

"Great," I muttered into the pillow. "Day one into my new life and I'm already hiding from the morning."

The pillow didn't answer me.

How rude.

I dragged myself out of bed and went to the bathroom, I was really exhausted and the mirror wasn’t doing me any favors either.

My eyes were a little swollen, my hair looked like I got into a fight with a windstorm, and my skin had that dull look people got from crying all day.

Very dignified and tragic.

And I was very much in need of coffee.

I showered, then I changed into simple clothes, and made my way downstairs.

The breakfast room was bright and warm, filled with the smell of fresh coffee and toast. My mother was sitting at the head of the table, reading a financial paper like she was looking for something wrong with the entire global economy.

Callum was slouched in a chair, his phone in one hand, grinning at whatever was on his screen.

He looked up as I walked in. "Ah, the prodigal ex-wife returns. Should I have the staff prepare a funeral wreath for your marriage or just pour you some coffee?"

"Coffee first. Wreath later." I pulled out a chair and sat down. "I haven't decided on the color scheme yet."

Callum's grin got wider. "I'm thinking black with gold trim. Very dramatic. Very final."

"I'll consider it." I reached for the coffee. "What are you so happy about this early?"

He slid his phone across the table. "You're already trending in certain circles."

I looked at the screen. It was a private business forum. Not some random gossip page. It was the kind of place where wealthy people talked about other wealthy people.

And right there in the middle of the thread was my name.

Not Isabelle Brooks.

Isabelle Rowan.

I stared at it. The words blurred for a second. "How did this happen so fast?"

"You are a Rowan," my mother said without even looking up from her paper. "The moment you stepped through those gates, the security already knew. People watch this house, Isabelle. They always have."

I pushed the phone back toward Callum. "But I didn't ask for any of this."

"You didn't have to." My mother finally put the paper down. "You were born into it. You can hide from it or you can control it. These are your options."

I wrapped my hands around my coffee cup. "And what if I want a third option?"

"There isn't one." She folded her hands on the table and looked at me. "The world already knows you're here. The only thing left is whether you let them write your story or you write it yourself."

Callum leaned forward. "Lucky for you, I already picked out the pen."

He reached into the leather bag beside his chair and pulled out a folder. He slid it across the table toward me. "A little something to get you started."

I opened the folder.

Inside were documents about a small fashion brand. Edgerton & Co. Family owned, struggling for the past three years. Good designs, decent reputation, but terrible leadership and massive debt owed.

Basically, the company was either going to collapse quietly or become something great in the right hands.

I looked up at him. "You want me to buy a failing fashion brand?"

"I want you to think about it." He took another sip of his coffee. "It's small so nobody is going to care much. But if you actually know what you’re doing and turn it around, people will notice."

“So you’re giving me homework to do now?”

“You could say that.”

I looked back at the folder. “You could have at least picked something that wasn’t already falling apart.”

My mother watched me for a while. "Your father has already looked through it. He thinks it has potential."

"Of course he does." I flipped through the pages, scanning through the numbers. "So what's the catch?"

Callum shrugged. "The catch is that you will have to prove yourself. The board is watching. Dad is watching. Hell, even the staff is probably watching." He paused. "No pressure."

I shot him a look. "You're enjoying this, aren’t you?"

"Immensely." He grinned. "Watching my little sister turn into a corporate shark is probably going to be the highlight of my year."

"I'm not a shark yet."

"Give it a month, Belle."

I rolled my eyes at him and kept reading. The more I studied the documents, the more I got interested. Not just interest, it was something sharper. It reminded me of how I used to stay up late back then, filling my journal with business ideas.

"Tell me about the current owner," I said.

Callum's expression changed a little. "His name is Gerald Edgerton, from the third generation. He is a decent man but he is terrible at running the business. He's been trying to find a buyer for months, but no one wants to touch the debt."

"And what about the staff?"

"They are loyal but tired. They've been through three rounds of layoffs. Morale is pretty low."

I closed the folder. "I want to see the place myself. The offices, the production floor. All of it."

Callum raised an eyebrow. "You mean today?"

"Yes. Before I make any decisions, I need to see what I am actually dealing with." I stood up. "Can’t you arrange a visit without making a scene?"

He nodded slowly. "I can. But be careful, Isabelle. The business world isn't exactly nice to newcomers, not even Rowans."

"I know."

"Do you?" He stood too. "Because once you walk into that building, people are gonna start asking questions. And once they start asking questions, they'll start digging. Your ex-husband included."

I met his eyes. "Let them dig. By the time they find something, I'll already be ten steps ahead."

He stared at me for a moment. Then he smiled. "Now that's the sister I remember."

My mother didn’t say anything, but I saw the little smile she tried so much to hide.

I was about to leave when she called me. "Isabelle."

I turned around. "Yes, mother?"

"There is one more thing." She put her hand in the pocket of her blazer and pulled out a small black card. She pushed it across the table. "This is the number of a private investigator I've worked with before. I think you should have a little talk with him."

I picked up the card and looked at it. "A private investigator? For what exactly?"

"Because your ex-husband is already out there talking about the divorce. He would probably start telling people his version of what happened. I think it’s best you know what he’s saying before it gets around."

I looked at the number one more time. “I don't want to spy on him," I said quietly.

"You don't have to spy on him, sweetie. But you really do need to know what you are dealing with ." She stood and straightened the front of her blouse. "You spent four years allowing that man make you feel like you did not matter. Don't let him do the same thing now that you are divorced."

Her words settled deep in my chest. I slipped the card into my pocket and nodded. "Fine. I'll think about it."

"Good." She walked past me toward the door, then stopped. "And Isabelle?"

I looked back at her. "Yeah?"

"Welcome home."

Then she left.

I stood there for a second, staring at the door.

Callum picked up his coffee. “Well, that was cheerful.”

I looked at him. “Shut up.”

I grabbed the folder from the table and headed for the door. But before I could step out, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the screen.

A notification from a gossip site. The headline made my stomach twist.

"Nathaniel Brooks Spotted with Vivian Shaw at Charity Gala Days After Wife Vanishes."

I stared at the screen for a little too long, the photo beneath showed Nathaniel in a dark suit with Vivian on his arm smiling like she'd already won something.

That really pissed me off.

I felt something tighten in my chest but it wasn’t heartbreak. I have gotten past that part already.

Callum appeared beside me and looked at the screen. His jaw tightened as soon as he saw the picture. "You okay?"

I locked my phone and shoved it into my pocket. "Never better."

"You sure? Because that's a pretty shitty thing to see first thing in the morning."

I turned to him with a smile and put my hand on his shoulder. "Let them think I'm hiding. By the time I'm done, they’re gonna wish I'd stayed invisible."

I picked up my things and headed for the door. I wasn’t in the mood to sit around and let the internet decide what my life looked like.

When I walked outside, the car was already waiting.