MARRIED TO THE COLD Tycoon

CHAPTER 8 : THE MEMORY SHE FORGOT

The room remained silent long after the phone call ended.

Isabella stood on the balcony with her arms folded tightly across her chest, staring at the lights of Sydney.

The city looked beautiful from the Blackwood estate.

Too beautiful for a night like this.

Behind her, Adrian remained motionless.

His phone was still in his hand.

"They said I'm carrying something."

Her voice was quiet.

Adrian didn't answer immediately.

"I don't remember anything."

"I know."

"Then why would they say that?"

"Because they wanted me to question you."

She turned.

"Do you?"

Adrian looked at her.

"No."

The answer came quickly.

Isabella studied him.

"You didn't even think about it."

"I've spent the last week watching people lie to us."

He placed the phone on the table.

"But you've never lied to me."

"How do you know?"

"I don't."

He stepped closer.

"But I know you're not working with them."

"That's a dangerous assumption."

"Everything about you is dangerous."

She almost smiled.

"That's not reassuring."

"It wasn't meant to be."

For a moment, the tension between them softened.

Then Adrian's security chief appeared at the balcony entrance.

"Sir."

Adrian turned.

"What?"

"The medical team has stabilized Mr. Bennett."

Isabella exhaled.

"And Eleanor?"

"Still unconscious."

Adrian nodded.

"Any sign of the security officer?"

"No."

Adrian's expression hardened.

"Find him."

"Yes, sir."

The security chief left.

Isabella looked at Adrian.

"How many people can we trust?"

"Right now?"

He paused.

"Three."

"Who?"

"Me. You."

He looked toward the corridor.

"And perhaps my mother, if she wakes up."

Isabella swallowed.

"That's not many."

"It's enough."

---

At three in the morning, Isabella still couldn't sleep.

She walked through the quiet mansion.

The Blackwood estate felt different at night.

During the day, it was impressive.

At night, it felt like a museum built around ghosts.

She passed portraits of generations of Blackwoods.

Businessmen.

Politicians.

Military officers.

Philanthropists.

People who had built fortunes that lasted for generations.

Then she stopped.

A portrait caught her attention.

A woman.

Eleanor.

She looked younger than the woman Isabella had met in the cemetery.

Beside her stood Adrian's father.

And between them was a little boy.

Adrian.

Isabella smiled faintly.

"He looks happy."

Adrian's voice came from behind her.

She turned.

He stood in the hallway wearing a dark sweater, his hair slightly disheveled.

"You scared me."

"Sorry."

"You don't look like a billionaire right now."

"What does a billionaire look like?"

"More arrogant."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm offended."

She smiled.

It was the first genuine smile she'd given him all night.

He came to stand beside her.

For several seconds they looked at the portrait together.

"He was happy," Adrian said.

"Your father?"

"Before everything happened."

"What changed?"

Adrian's expression darkened.

"The day he discovered the Consortium."

Isabella looked at him.

"Tell me."

He remained silent.

"Adrian."

He sighed.

"My father used to believe wealth could solve anything."

"And then?"

"He learned that there were people richer than money."

She frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"Influence."

He looked at the portrait.

"People who can destroy a company without touching it. People who can make governments change laws. People who can erase identities."

"And your father fought them."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because he discovered they were manipulating Australia's natural resources."

Isabella's journalist instincts immediately awakened.

"Mining?"

"Mining. Energy. Land. Water."

He paused.

"Entire communities were being displaced so certain corporations could acquire their land."

Her expression hardened.

"And your father found proof?"

"Enough to destroy them."

"But he didn't."

"No."

"Because they killed him."

Adrian nodded.

"And my mother disappeared."

Isabella looked at him.

"Maybe your father wasn't trying to destroy the Consortium."

Adrian turned.

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe he was trying to expose one particular person."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

She looked back at the portrait.

"Your father trusted someone enough to leave them evidence."

Adrian thought about it.

"Arthur."

"Maybe."

"Arthur was shot before he could tell us."

"Which means someone knew what he was going to say."

Adrian's expression became thoughtful.

"There's something else."

"What?"

"My father kept a private journal."

"Where?"

"I don't know."

Isabella smiled faintly.

"You're a billionaire and you don't know where your father's journal is?"

"My father didn't trust computers."

"Old-fashioned."

"Paranoid."

"Maybe smart."

Adrian looked at her.

"You sound like a journalist again."

"I am a journalist."

"Not anymore."

She frowned.

"What?"

"You're my fiancée."

She stared at him.

"I haven't agreed to that."

"You agreed when you held my hand in front of thirty cameras."

"I was being threatened."

"Technically, you smiled."

She laughed.

"You are impossible."

"So you've said."

---

Morning came with a storm.

Dark clouds rolled across Sydney.

Rain battered the windows of the estate.

By nine, the security team had transformed the property into a fortress.

No visitors.

No deliveries.

No unauthorized vehicles.

Even the gardens were being monitored.

Isabella sat at the breakfast table staring at the untouched food.

Adrian entered.

"Eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"You haven't eaten since yesterday."

"Neither have you."

"I had coffee."

"That's not food."

He sat opposite her.

"You sound like my mother."

"Your mother sounds intelligent."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

Then a security officer entered.

"Sir."

Adrian looked up.

"What?"

"We found something."

He placed a sealed evidence bag on the table.

Inside was a small silver pendant.

Isabella stared.

Her heart suddenly began beating faster.

"I know that."

Adrian looked at her.

"You've seen it?"

She nodded slowly.

"My father had one."

She reached for the bag but stopped herself.

"Where did you find it?"

"In the underground archive."

Adrian examined it.

There was a tiny raven engraved on the front.

He turned it over.

On the back were two initials.

I.H.

Isabella's initials.

Her breath caught.

"That's mine."

Adrian looked at her.

"You've never seen this?"

"No."

"Think."

She closed her eyes.

Nothing.

Only darkness.

Then—

A flash.

A room.

A wooden table.

Her father kneeling in front of her.

A little girl crying.

His hands placing the pendant around her neck.

Isabella opened her eyes.

"Wait."

Adrian stood.

"What?"

"I remember."

The room became silent.

"What do you remember?"

"My father."

She pressed her fingers against her temple.

"He gave me something."

"What?"

"The pendant."

Adrian looked at the evidence bag.

"How old were you?"

"Maybe seven."

"Where?"

"I don't know."

"Try."

She closed her eyes again.

Another flash.

Rain.

A house.

Her father's face.

His voice.

Never show this to anyone.

Then another voice.

A woman.

Eleanor.

Isabella opened her eyes.

"Your mother was there."

Adrian's expression changed.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"I don't know."

She breathed deeply.

"I think my father was afraid."

"Of whom?"

She shook her head.

"I can't remember."

Adrian sat beside her.

"Don't force it."

"But it matters."

"We'll find out."

She looked at him.

"You really believe me?"

"Yes."

"Even when I don't believe myself?"

"Especially then."

Their eyes met.

The moment lasted longer than either expected.

Adrian's hand rested beside hers.

Slowly, Isabella placed her fingers over his.

He looked down.

Neither moved.

Then the security alarm sounded.

They separated instantly.

A guard rushed into the room.

"Sir!"

Adrian stood.

"What happened?"

"The perimeter gate."

"Intrusion?"

"No."

The guard looked confused.

"The gate opened from inside."

Adrian's face hardened.

"Who opened it?"

"We don't know."

---

A black sedan entered the estate.

It stopped beneath the covered entrance.

The doors opened.

A woman stepped out.

She was elegant, perhaps in her early forties, dressed in a cream-colored suit.

Adrian stared at her through the security monitor.

"I know her."

Isabella looked at the screen.

"Who is she?"

"Victoria Blackwood."

"Your family?"

"My cousin."

"Is she safe?"

Adrian didn't answer.

The security chief looked at him.

"Sir?"

"Search her."

The guards approached Victoria.

She smiled calmly.

"Adrian."

"Victoria."

"You've become difficult to visit."

"These aren't normal times."

"I heard."

Her eyes moved toward the security cameras.

"Where is your fiancée?"

Adrian's expression hardened.

"Why?"

"Because I came to meet her."

Victoria entered the house.

Isabella watched from the hallway.

The woman looked at her.

"So you're Isabella."

"Yes."

Victoria smiled.

"I've wanted to meet you."

"Why?"

"Because you're the first person I've seen make Adrian look human."

Adrian frowned.

"Victoria."

"What?"

"Enough."

She laughed.

"Still controlling."

She turned toward Isabella.

"Don't worry. He's always been like this."

Isabella smiled politely.

"How long have you known him?"

"Since he was a child."

Victoria's expression softened.

"I remember when he lost his parents."

Adrian's face became cold.

"Why are you here?"

Victoria looked at him.

"I brought something."

She removed a small envelope from her handbag.

Adrian took it.

"What is it?"

"Your father's journal."

His eyes widened.

"Where did you get this?"

"Your mother gave it to me."

Adrian stared.

"She gave it to you?"

Victoria nodded.

"Before she disappeared."

Isabella stepped closer.

"What does it say?"

Victoria looked at her.

"It says the wedding must happen."

Silence.

Adrian opened the journal.

The first pages contained financial records.

Then names.

Then dates.

Then a map of Australia.

Several locations were marked.

Sydney.

Melbourne.

Perth.

Darwin.

Hobart.

And one location circled in red.

Port Arthur.

Isabella frowned.

"Why Port Arthur?"

Victoria looked at Adrian.

"Because that's where your father hid the final evidence."

Adrian closed the journal.

"Then we're going."

Victoria shook her head.

"You can't."

"Why?"

"Because that's exactly where they expect you to go."

Adrian's eyes narrowed.

"Then why tell me?"

Victoria looked at Isabella.

"Because there's something you don't know."

"What?"

Victoria lowered her voice.

"The wedding isn't a trap for Adrian."

She paused.

"It's a trap for you."

Isabella felt the room spin.

Adrian immediately stepped between them.

"Explain."

Victoria looked at him.

"The Consortium believes Isabella's father hid a digital key inside her memory."

Isabella frowned.

"What does that mean?"

Victoria shook her head.

"They don't know exactly what it means."

"Then why are they after me?"

"Because your father designed the security system."

Adrian stared.

Victoria continued.

"He knew that if the Consortium captured his records, they could destroy the evidence."

"So he hid it somewhere they couldn't reach."

"Where?"

Victoria looked directly at Isabella.

"Inside you."

Isabella's face went pale.

"That's impossible."

"Not if you're talking about a memory."

Adrian looked at Victoria.

"Explain."

"Your father was working with a psychologist who specialized in memory encoding."

Isabella's breathing became shallow.

"He believed the human brain could be used as a vault."

Adrian's eyes narrowed.

"What did he put inside her?"

"We don't know."

"Then why does the Consortium think it's there?"

"Because your father told them."

Isabella stepped backward.

"He wouldn't."

"He wanted them to believe you were carrying something."

Victoria shook her head.

"But he never told them what."

Adrian looked at Isabella.

Suddenly, her childhood memories felt like pieces of a puzzle someone else had deliberately scattered.

Her father's disappearance.

The pendant.

The raven.

The strange dreams she'd had since childhood.

The recurring memory of a locked room.