15. Isabella
Chapter fifteen
Isabella
T he sun is throwing a party in the sky, all bright and cheery, and I’m strutting into the office riding that same high vibe. Last night’s dinner with Adrian and my folks? A hit. We’re talking home runs, fireworks, the works. And here I am today, floating on cloud nine because this whole unconventional family unit might not be headed for a spectacular nosedive.
I breeze past Kate’s desk, her smile mirroring mine, and my heels click-clack a rhythm that says, “Girl, you’ve got this.” But then there’s Adrian, Mr. Play-It-Cool, leaving our relationship status dangling like a participle. Makes a girl wonder—if he’s really into me, wouldn’t he be pulling out all the stops instead of playing hot potato with the commitment grenade?
Shaking my head as I step into my office, I resolve to keep my eyes on the prize. Today is about wins, not what-ifs. So what if Adrian’s acting like he’d only shack up with me because I’m carrying his surprise bun in the oven? Forget labels. We’re good. Great, even.
“Focus on the now,” I mutter to myself, tossing my bag onto my desk with more sass than necessary. Just as I’m about to dive into the day’s legal jungle, my phone decides it’s the perfect moment to burst my bubble—chime!
“Breaking news” flashes across the screen, and it’s not the latest cat video going viral. Nope, it’s about the merger. The financial docs I tagged last week as MIA are officially making their debut all over the press like they’re strutting down the red carpet.
“Those documents were leaked? But how?”
My pulse goes from chill beats to heavy metal as I realize those traitorous sheets were sent from Aurora and NexGen straight to us. The leak’s an inside job. A mole in our midst.
Betrayal stings like lemon juice on a paper cut, and I can feel the sting all right. Here I am, busting my tail to prove I belong at a firm as prestigious as Cole this was a sniper shot.
A shiver snakes down my spine, and I throw a surreptitious glance over my shoulder. The office feels different now—less like a place of work and more like a crime scene. Which one of these well-dressed sharks circling the water cooler had the gall? The treachery?
“Focus, Isabella,” I tell myself, fingers poised over the keyboard. “You’re not just any lawyer—you’re the lawyer.” But even as I try to pump myself up, doubt digs its claws in. This breach happened under my watch. My reputation, my rules, my relentless climb up the ladder—it’s all teetering on the edge.
And so, with a deep breath and a mental armor of sarcasm, I dive back into the digital fray. Whoever you are , I think, clicking through files with the speed of a courtroom cross-examination, your days of cloak-and-dagger are numbered .
Because if there’s one thing I know, it’s that I play a much meaner game of hide-and-seek. And I always find what I’m looking for.