Bound by His Shadow: The Billionaire's Secret Weapon

Chapter 16: Isabelle's Chessboard

The top-floor conference room at Vance Tower had been set half an hour before the negotiation began. Four bottles of water on each side of the long table, labels facing uniformly. Vance Group nameplates on the left, Ashford on the right. Damian stood against the wall behind Lucian's seat, having already scanned the opposite seats.

Seraphina paused in the corridor. Damian's notification had been brief: "Ashford is leading the delegation personally. The boss wants you on his right."

She had changed into a dark gray dress. She spread the fingers of her left hand in the mirror, stretching them one by one to full extension, then drew them back. Her Gift was there.

Lucian was already at the head of the table. As she sat, his gaze dropped to her left hand for half a second. The red marks had almost faded. He looked away.

She picked up her water glass. The glass was cold.

The door opened.

Isabelle Ashford walked in with four people. The way she moved reminded Seraphina of the woman she had seen from a distance at the gala — holding court at the bar, laughing with a circle of people while her eyes swept the room continuously, as if counting. Now her every step was still precise, her every smile still had a recipient.

"Lucian. It's been too long." Isabelle sat down across from him. Then her gaze found Seraphina. Paused half a beat.

Smile.

"Oh, Mrs. Vance. I didn't recognize you." She tilted her head. "You changed your hairstyle?"

The conference room went silent for a second. Damian's face was blank. The Ashford assistants bent over their documents. Isabelle's smile stayed exactly where it was.

Seraphina set her water glass down. The base touched the walnut table, soundless.

"Miss Ashford. Your information is remarkably current."

Isabelle's smile did not change. But she looked at Seraphina for an extra half-second. Then she turned to Lucian and opened the folder in her hands.

Isabelle's proposal: the southern energy corridor of Nova Verona, joint development. Ashford would provide extraction technology, Vance would provide infrastructure and logistics. She spoke with her body angled toward Lucian the entire time, her pace steady, numbers arriving without effort. Total investment of four-point-seven billion, six years across three phases, Ashford taking thirty-two percent in technology shares.

Lucian turned a page. "The southern line transmission efficiency. You're using last year's parameters."

"Last year's parameters are the only ones verified in the field." Isabelle's smile held. "New data exists, of course, but laboratory conditions and Gulf climate are two different things. Vance Group's infrastructure experience — you know it better than I do."

"You're selling a six-year return on last year's data."

Isabelle's smile did not change. But she turned the next page half a beat slower.

Seraphina was listening. She was taking apart two things. First, every time Isabelle said *you know it better than I do*, she was closing the distance between herself and Lucian. Second, Isabelle's assistant. Every time the energy cooperation figures came up, the assistant glanced at a folder in the corner. Not flipping through it. Checking it was still there. That folder was not the same one Isabelle had open in her hands. Thinner. Cover without markings.

"Miss Ashford." Seraphina spoke. "The southern line transmission efficiency in your proposal — is it based on the parameters your company published last year, or on updated test data?"

Isabelle turned her head to look at her. The smile remained.

"Mr. Vance." She turned her body back toward Lucian. "Your wife raises an interesting point. Though the southern line data —" She began answering Lucian. As if Seraphina's chair held nothing but air.

Seraphina's fingertip rested on the rim of her glass for half a beat. Then let go.

Lucian turned another page. He did not look at Seraphina. But after Isabelle redirected her question, he turned one page too many. A page he had already read.

"Miss Ashford, your cost model assumes an eighteen-month construction timeline for the southern line." Seraphina's voice was level, as if reading from a report she had already reviewed. "But Vance Group's infrastructure timeline at the same latitude last year was twenty-six months. An eight-month gap. What construction conditions are you assuming?"

This time Isabelle did not turn her head. She spoke directly to Lucian: "Your wife is very thorough. Of course, cost models need adjusting for actual construction conditions —"

"What construction conditions?" Seraphina asked.

Isabelle paused one beat. Then continued speaking to Lucian, her volume and pace unchanged. "Vance Group has more experience than we do in this area."

Seraphina did not ask again. When she had asked the second time, she was watching the assistant. The assistant's hand had moved from her knee to the edge of the table, her fingertip pressing down on the corner of that dark gray folder. As if holding something in place.

She didn't need to ask again.

The meeting ended forty minutes later. Isabelle closed her folder and stood. Her team rose with her. Lucian did not stand to see anyone out. Isabelle walked the length of the long table toward the door and paused half a step from Seraphina's chair.

"Miss Sterling —" She paused, the arc of her mouth precise. "Oh, forgive me. Mrs. Vance. I hope you get used to being discussed in public. After all, you come from a —"

A held beat.

"A family that no longer exists."

Seraphina's face did not change. Then her left hand, at her side, spread its fingers. A very small movement. Five fingers stretching to their limit, drawing slowly back in.

Isabelle did not see it. Lucian did.

Isabelle walked out of the conference room. Her assistant followed quickly, clutching the folder. Dark gray cover, no markings, thin. The door closed behind them.

Three people remained in the room.

Damian stepped forward from the wall. "Do you need me to find out what documents Ashford brought today."

Lucian did not answer right away. He sat at the head of the table, right hand on the polished wood, fingers not turning his ring. He was thinking about Seraphina's left hand. Five fingers shifting from restraint to weapon and back to restraint. Within half a second. She had asked the construction conditions twice. Not for the answer. To force the assistant to press down on that folder.

"Do it."

He stood and walked to the window. Outside, the Nova Verona skyline was gray.

"Pull Isabelle's complete business itinerary for the last three months. Her private schedule. Meeting records, travel arrangements, social engagements." He paused. "Especially who she's met with."

Damian held for a beat. "Boss, does this have to do with the energy negotiation?"

Lucian did not answer. Outside the window, the skyline sat under a low ceiling of gray cloud. In his mind was the dark gray folder. Isabelle's assistant had pressed her fingers against it during the negotiation. And Seraphina had been watching it before the assistant ever touched it.

"One more thing." Lucian turned around. "Tomorrow's tea party. The charity event Isabelle is hosting. Send the invitation to the East Wing."