POV: Isabella
The silence after the lock engaged was absolute, broken only by the ragged sound of their breathing. Dust motes danced in the twin beams of their fallen flashlights, illuminating the sealed envelope on the ledger like a holy relic in a dusty reliquary.
Isabella’s first emotion was not fear but a white-hot fury. She spun toward Xavier in the confined space, making the movement feel violent. “This was a trap. Your father’s man locked us in.”
Xavier didn’t look at her. His gaze was fixed on the heavy door, his profile sharp with calculation. “Roy is Facilities. He’s lazy, not malicious. The lock is old. It sticks.” His voice was a low, forced calm, the CEO assessing a logistical failure. But she saw the pulse hammering in his throat.
“He smiled at me,” she hissed, the memory
