Chapter 2 : Wife by Sunrise
712 Words
The confession settled over the penthouse like a storm cloud.
The people hunting her... were the same people who had murdered his parents.
Isabella searched Adrian Blackwood's face for any hint that he was lying. There was none. His expression remained composed, but behind the icy calm she caught a flicker of something deeper—grief buried beneath years of discipline.
"You expect me to believe that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't expect anything," Adrian replied, turning away from the rain-speckled windows overlooking Sydney Harbour. "I deal in facts."
He crossed the room and placed a thick leather file on the marble coffee table.
"Open it."
With hesitant fingers, Isabella lifted the cover.
Inside were newspaper clippings dating back more than twenty years.
BLACKWOOD COUPLE KILLED IN HELICOPTER CRASH.
AUTHORITIES RULE ACCIDENT.
Another document followed.
A confidential engineering report.
The final page had one sentence highlighted in red.
Evidence of explosive residue detected. Investigation suspended by government order.
Isabella looked up sharply.
"This was never made public."
"No."
"Where did you get it?"
"It belonged to my father."
Silence filled the room.
She continued reading.
Names.
Corporate shareholders.
Government ministers.
Mining executives.
International investors.
The same surnames appeared repeatedly throughout the file.
Some of them were familiar.
She had interviewed two of them during her investigation into the Blackwood Group.
A cold shiver raced down her spine.
"My investigation..." she murmured.
"It wasn't about accounting fraud."
Adrian nodded.
"It was the surface of something much darker."
She closed the file.
"So I've been chasing the wrong story."
"No."
"You've been chasing the right people."
Before she could answer, the elevator chimed.
The penthouse security doors unlocked.
A distinguished man in his sixties entered, carrying another folder.
His silver hair was neatly combed, and his tailored navy suit reflected decades of quiet professionalism.
"Good evening, Mr. Blackwood."
Adrian inclined his head.
"Isabella, this is Arthur Bennett."
"The family lawyer?" she guessed.
Arthur smiled faintly.
"And legal adviser for thirty-four years."
He placed a leather document case on the table.
"The marriage contract has been revised."
Isabella stared at him.
"You already prepared this?"
Arthur answered with remarkable honesty.
"Months ago."
Her eyes widened.
"Months?"
Adrian met her gaze.
"I knew whoever uncovered the Consortium would become their next target."
"The Consortium?" she echoed.
"The name they use behind closed doors."
Arthur slid the contract toward her.
"This marriage will be recognized under Australian law. You will retain your own assets, your career, and your legal identity. There are no financial obligations expected from you."
"There has to be a catch."
"There is."
Adrian answered before Arthur could.
"You must live with me."
She almost laughed.
"That's your condition?"
"It's our protection."
He walked toward a digital screen mounted against the wall.
The display lit up instantly.
Satellite images.
Security camera feeds.
Maps of Sydney.
Small blinking red dots surrounded the Blackwood Tower.
"They've already found this building."
Isabella felt her pulse quicken.
"So why aren't they attacking?"
"They're waiting."
"For what?"
"For you to leave."
The realization settled heavily in her chest.
She wasn't a guest.
She was under siege.
Outside, dawn slowly began to break over Sydney Harbour, painting the clouds with streaks of pale gold.
For the first time in years, Adrian Blackwood allowed himself to hope.
Because the woman standing before him wasn't merely the key to exposing the Consortium.
She might also be the only person capable of saving him from the ghosts that had haunted him for two decades.
Neither of them realized that, several kilometres away, inside an exclusive waterfront mansion overlooking the Pacific Ocean, a secret meeting had already begun.
Around a polished black table sat seven of Australia's most influential figures.
One seat remained empty.
An elderly man dressed in white leather gloves slowly placed a photograph of Isabella Hart onto the table.
His voice was calm.
"She accepted Blackwood's protection."
Another man frowned.
"Do we eliminate them now?"
The old man smiled.
"No."
He tapped the photograph once.
"Let them get married."
His chilling smile widened.
"It will make destroying them both far more satisfying."
The room fell silent as the first rays of sunlight touched Sydney.
A war had begun.
And the wedding was only the opening move.
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