The morning after the chase felt unreal.
The city skyline glittered like nothing had happened, no kidnappers, no bullets, no danger. Just the cold elegance of glass towers and the hum of traffic far below the penthouse.
Isabela sat by the window, wrapped in a blanket and a thousand thoughts. She hadn't slept much. Every sound, a door closing, an elevator ding, made her heart jump.
Downstairs, the scent of coffee and something stronger drifted from the kitchen. Ethan was already up, wearing his usual crisp shirt but with sleeves rolled and hair still damp from a shower. He looked calm, too calm.
"Morning," he greeted, sliding a cup toward her. "You look like you wrestled with your pillow all night."
"I did," she muttered, sipping the coffee. "I kept hearing things. Doors, footsteps. Probably the guards, but…"
Ethan gave a small, reassuring smile. "They're ours. You're safe here."
Isabela nodded but didn't look convinced. "Do you think it's really over?"
"No," he said simply, setting his tablet down. "But it's quieter for now. That's how these people work, they test first, then disappear until the next strike."
The way he said it, calm, analytical, unsettled her more than if he'd panicked.
"Your father called?" she asked, breaking the silence.
"Yeah. He wants me to keep low, let the private investigators handle it. But they won't dig deep enough. They never do."
"What are you planning?" she asked cautiously.
He looked up from his screen, his eyes sharp again. "Finding who's feeding them information. That SUV wasn't random. They knew our exact route, even the driving lesson spot."
Isabela froze. "You mean… someone from your side?"
"Or yours," Ethan said softly, watching her reaction.
The air between them tightened.
Then, just as quickly, his tone softened. "I didn't mean it like that. But until we know who's leaking, no one's off the list. Not even my own people."
The Hidden Thread
By noon, Ethan had transformed the penthouse study into a command center. Two laptops, a portable hard drive, and a whiteboard filled with scribbled names and lines.
Isabela stood by the doorway, hesitant. "Are you sure you should be doing this yourself? Your father said"
"He said I should stop," Ethan interrupted. "That's exactly why I won't."
He opened a folder and turned the screen toward her. It was the SUV photo, enhanced and cross-checked with a surveillance database.
"Found something," he said. "The license plate belongs to a vehicle registered under Carson Logistics, a fake company connected to a former associate of mine, Thomas Greer."
Her eyes widened. "But he's your friend."
"No more like a co-worker "
Ethan gave a humorless laugh. "Friend? Maybe. But Thomas's been moving suspiciously since the investigation started, changing meetings, reassigning security, avoiding direct calls. Now this?"
He typed a few lines of code, pulling up call logs. A familiar number appeared.
"Two days before the attack, he contacted one of the shell accounts tied to our competitor's network. That's not a coincidence."
Isabela leaned closer, reading the data. "So, you think Thomas sold you out?"
"I think someone paid him to make me disappear," Ethan replied.
For a moment, silence filled the room, heavy and cold.
"Ethan…" she began carefully, "if you go after him, won't that make you a target again?"
He looked at her with that same stubborn calm. "It already has."
A Visit from Sandra
By afternoon, a knock sounded at the penthouse door. One of the guards checked the camera, then turned to Ethan.
"It's Miss Sandra, sir. Say you're expecting her."
Ethan frowned slightly but nodded. "Let her in."
Isabela's heart skipped. Sandra. Ethan's ex. The last time she'd seen her was after the fashion show, charming, graceful, and suspiciously kind.
Sandra stepped in, all elegance in a beige coat and oversized sunglasses. She smiled brightly when she saw them. "Ethan. Isabela. You two look like you've seen ghosts."
Ethan's expression remained neutral. "Just a few too many surprises lately."
Sandra removed her glasses and studied him. "You mean the little 'incident' in Whistler? Word travels fast."
Isabela stiffened. "You already heard?"
Sandra laughed softly. "Oh, darling. I have friends in every corner of this city. You should know by now, nothing stays quiet for long."
She walked closer, her perfume filling the air. "Ethan, hope you are fine, maybe you should take things easy. These things have a way of turning."
Ethan raised a brow. "And you'd know?"
Sandra's smile didn't waver. "Let's just say I've seen men in suits lose everything because they didn't know when to stop."
Isabela couldn't tell if it was a concern or a veiled warning.
When Sandra finally left, the room felt colder.
Ethan watched the elevator doors close, then muttered under his breath, "She knew something."
"You think she's involved?" Isabela asked.
"I think she's playing both sides," he said grimly. "And I need to find out which one she's loyal to."
Night Moves
That night, the city glowed under a silver sky. Ethan stood on the balcony, phone pressed to his ear.
"It's confirmed," he said quietly to the voice on the line. "Thomas's been moving funds through Carson Logistics, the same route used in the Greer contract. Find where it leads."
He ended the call, turning back inside, only to find Isabela standing there, wrapped in her robe again, her eyes searching for him.
"You're still working," she said softly.
"Couldn't sleep," he replied. "Every time I close my eyes, I see that SUV."
"Me too," she admitted, stepping closer. "But you can't carry this alone."
He smiled faintly. "You sound like my conscience."
"Someone has to," she said, matching his look.
Their eyes held that delicate, dangerous balance between proximity and restraint.
Then Ethan's phone buzzed again. He glanced down, and his expression changed.
"What is it?" Isabela asked.
He turned the screen toward her. It was a message, no name, just a number, and a single line of text:
"Stop digging, Ethan. Next time, she won't be so lucky."
Isabela's heart dropped. "Oh my God…"
Ethan's jaw tightened. "So, they want to make it personal."
He typed back one short reply:
"Then come for me."
Outside, the night deepened. The penthouse lights glowed like a beacon against the skyline.
But unseen in the distance, a dark car sat parked two blocks away, engine idling, its occupants watching the top floor.