Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Isla
“Your mother always did have excellent taste in employers,” Wolfe’s words from earlier echo in my head as I pace Drake’s tech sanctuary.
The wall of screens casts a blue glow across the concrete floor, each one displaying different pieces of the puzzle we’re trying to solve.
“Isla, you’re going to wear a hole in my floor,” Drake says without looking up from his keyboard. “And you haven’t heard a word I’ve said about these security breaches.”
“Sorry, I just—” I stop pacing, running my hands through my hair. “The way he looked at me when he mentioned Mom. Like he knew exactly which buttons to push.”
“Because he does.” Drake spins in his chair, fixing me with a serious look. “That’s what manipulators do. They find leverage and exploit it.”
I lean against his desk, studying the patterns flowing across his screens.
“Show me what you found again.”
“These data corruptions?” He points to a series of red markers on his timeline. “They’re not random. Look at the timestamps.”
My eyes narrow as I follow the pattern. “They align with our major project milestones.”
“Exactly. And here’s where it gets interesting.” Drake pulls up another window, this one showing lines of code. “Each breach carries a signature. It’s subtle, but?—“
“It’s Wolfe Development tech,” I finish, recognizing the framework. “Shit.”
“The same backdoor they used in their sustainable systems five years ago.” Drake’s fingers fly across the keyboard.
“He’s not just trying to access our data—he’s planting false leads.”
My phone buzzes with a text from Eli, and my stomach tightens. I haven’t told him about Wolfe’s threats, about Mom’s connection to all this. The weight of secrets sits heavy on my chest.
“You need to tell him,” Drake says quietly, reading my expression.
“I know.” I push away from the desk, moving to the wall of windows. The city stretches out below, lights twinkling like stars.
“But if Wolfe makes good on his threats?—”
“Then you’ll face it together.” Drake’s chair squeaks as he stands. “Look at this data, Isla. Wolfe’s not just after the project. This is personal. He’s using your past, your mom’s past, all of it as leverage.”
“Because he knows it’ll work.” My reflection stares back at me, worry lines creasing my forehead. “He knows I’ll do anything to protect the people I care about.”
“Even if it means pushing them away?” Drake’s question hits hard.
Before I can answer, a security alert flashes across his screens. New data flooding in, more breadcrumbs leading us deeper into Wolfe’s web of manipulation.
“Son of a bitch,” Drake mutters, diving back into his chair.
“He’s not just corrupting data—he’s rewriting project histories. Look at these timestamps.”
I lean over his shoulder, watching as he unravels Wolfe’s digital fingerprints. Each discovery makes my heart beat faster, knowing we’re getting closer to understanding his true motives—and knowing I can’t keep Eli in the dark much longer.
Five years ago, I walked away to protect everyone. Now, I might have to trust others to help me do the protecting.
“I keep thinking about what Wolfe said.” I move away from the window, needing space to think. “About Mom having good taste in employers. He wasn’t just threatening her—he was reminding me that I’m repeating her pattern.”
Drake’s chair creaks as he turns to face me. “What do you mean?”
“Working for powerful families, trying to belong in their world...”
The words taste bitter.
“Mom spent her whole life serving them, watching her daughter try to fit into their circles. Now here I am, threatening everything Eli’s worked for, just like she warned me.”
“That’s what Wolfe wants you to think.” Drake’s voice carries a gentle firmness.
“He’s trying to make you doubt yourself, doubt Eli. You earned your place, Isla. Your talent, your vision—that has nothing to do with social class.”
My phone buzzes again with Eli’s text. This time, I read it.
Can we talk? I think I understand why you left.
“He’s been going through Edward’s old files,” I explain to Drake. “Finding things that explain... everything.”
“And that terrifies you.”
“Yes.” The admission comes out barely above a whisper. “Because if he understands why I left, he’ll also understand why I can’t stay.”
Drake stands, crossing to where I’m huddled by the windows.
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“Drake—”
“No, listen.” He leans against the glass beside me. “Last time, you ran to protect everyone. Your mom, Eli, yourself. But look what that protection cost you both.”
The city lights blur as tears threaten. “I thought I was being strong.”
“Being strong doesn’t mean being alone.” His shoulder bumps mine gently. “Sometimes it means letting people fight beside you.”
I glance at my phone, at Eli’s message waiting for a response.
“What if I let him in and history repeats itself?”
“What if it doesn’t?” Drake counters. “What if this time, you’re both strong enough to face whatever comes together?”
The weight of secrets feels heavier than ever, but something else rises with it—hope, maybe. Or courage.
“He deserves the whole truth,” I say finally.
“Yes, he does.” Drake squeezes my shoulder. “And you deserve to stop carrying this alone.”
I pick up my phone, fingers hovering over the keys. Years of protection and silence, of doing everything alone, come down to this moment.
I type.
Meet me at my place in twenty. There’s something I need to tell you.
Drake watches me gather my things. “You’ve got this.”
“Thanks.” I pause at the door. “For everything.”
“Just remember,” he calls after me, “you’re not your mother, Isla. And Eli isn’t Edward.”
The truth of his words follows me into the night, giving me courage for what comes next.
The elevator ride to my floor feels endless. I press my palm against the cool metal wall, trying to steady my racing heart. Drake’s words echo in my mind.
“Being strong doesn’t mean being alone.”
My loft is dark when I enter, city lights painting long shadows across the floor. I move through the space, turning on just enough lamps to create pools of warm light. Everything looks different tonight, like the truth I’m about to share has already changed the atmosphere.
The box of memories I’ve kept hidden all these years calls to me from the back of my closet. After a moment’s hesitation, I pull it out. Inside, beneath old photos and letters, lies the real reason I left—Edward’s handwritten ultimatum, dated the night everything fell apart.
My phone feels heavy in my hand as I stare at Eli’s contact information. How do you even begin to explain five years of silence?
A pounding at my door makes me jump. Before I can reach it, it comes again, more urgent this time.
When I open it, Eli stands there, still in his work clothes, looking like he’s been through hell. There’s something raw in his expression that makes my heart stop.
“I found them.” His voice is hoarse. “Dad’s journals. The ultimatum he gave you. Everything.” He runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “Tell me he was lying, Isla. Tell me my father didn’t?—“
His eyes catch on the box behind me, and something breaks in his expression.
“You kept it,” he whispers. “His letter.”
“How did you know about?—”
“Because he kept a copy.” Eli’s laugh is bitter as he steps inside.
“Filed it away like a fucking business transaction. Resolution of Carrington Situation, dated the night you disappeared.”
I close the door, each click of the latch echoing in the silence between us. The controlled facade he usually wears is completely gone, replaced by five years of buried pain finally surfacing.
“I was just about to text you,” I say softly, gesturing to my phone and the box. “I was finally going to tell you everything.”
“Everything?” His voice cracks on the word.
“Yes.” I move to the box, pulling out the letter with trembling hands. “Because this wasn’t just about protecting my Mom. It was about you. About everything you’d worked for.”
Eli takes the letter, his hands shaking slightly. I watch as he reads, see the moment understanding hits him like a physical blow.
“The board will never trust an Alderidge who can’t control his own family drama,” he reads aloud, voice cracking.
“Your relationship with my son will destroy everything he’s worked for. A housekeeper’s daughter has no place in this family, and you know it.”
“He said the scandal would cost you the COO position. That everything you’d sacrificed, all the years you spent trying to prove yourself?—“
My voice breaks. “It would all be worthless because of me.”
“So you left.” He looks up from the letter, eyes bright with unshed tears.
“Without a word. Without giving me a chance to choose you anyway.”
“I thought I was protecting you.” The tears I’ve held back finally spill over.
“God, Eli, I convinced myself that disappearing was an act of love. That if I really cared about you, I had to let you go.”
“Protecting me?” Eli’s voice cracks. “Do you have any idea what it was like? Waking up to find you gone, no explanation, no goodbye—just emptiness where our future used to be?”
“I’m sorry.” The words feel inadequate against five years of pain.
“And then finding these—” He pulls crumpled journal pages from his pocket. “Reading how he manipulated you, used my own insecurities against us both. God, Isla, he knew exactly what buttons to push, didn’t he?”
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold together.
“He said it was the kind of sacrifice a real Alderidge would understand. That you’d learned that lesson from him.”
“What lesson?” Eli’s laugh is harsh. “That love means controlling everything? That protecting people means making their choices for them?”
“That sometimes strength means walking away.” My voice breaks. “That if I really loved you, I’d put your future first.”
“My future?” He moves closer, close enough that I can see the tears in his eyes. “You were my future, Isla. The position, the legacy—none of it meant anything without you.”
The truth of his words hits me like a physical blow.
“I was so scared of becoming my mother. I thought if I left first?—”
“You could control the damage.” His expression softens with understanding. “Just like I would have done. Just like he trained me to do.”
“We’re more alike than I realized.” A tear slips down my cheek.
“Too alike, maybe.” His hand comes up, thumb brushing away my tear. “Both so busy trying to protect everyone else that we forget to trust them.”
I lean into his touch, five years of loneliness crumbling. “I don’t want to be that person anymore. The one who runs, who tries to handle everything alone.”
“Then don’t be.” His other hand finds my waist, pulling me closer. “Because I’m not that person either. Not anymore.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because this time—” His forehead rests against mine. “This time we know what we’re fighting for. And we’re fighting together.”
The city lights paint shadows across his face as he pulls back just enough to meet my eyes.
“No more sacrifices in the name of protection. No more choices made alone. Deal?”
I want to say yes. God, I want to. But the fear still lingers—not just of losing him, but of making the same choices my mother did.
She always put the people she loved first, even when it cost her everything. Even when it meant walking away from what she wanted most.
What if I’m just like her? What if choosing Eli now only leads to the same heartbreak later?
“Isla.” His voice pulls me back, steady and sure. “Your mother protected the people she loved. So do you. But love isn’t just about sacrifice—it’s about trust.”
The breath I didn’t realize I was holding slips out. Maybe he’s right. Maybe strength isn’t just in letting go. Maybe it’s in holding on.
I swallow hard and nod. “Deal.”
His exhale is relief and certainty wrapped in one. His hand slides to my cheek, his warmth dissolving the last of my hesitation.
His kiss tastes like forgiveness and promise, like five years of longing finally finding home. When we break apart, the weight of secrets I’ve carried feels lighter, shared between us.
“We still have so much to figure out,” I whisper against his shoulder.
His arms tighten around me.
“We can figure everything out tomorrow,” he murmurs. “Right now, I just want to hold you.”
For the first time in a long time, I let myself truly relax. The city hums below us, Eli’s heartbeat steady under my ear, and I finally understand—sometimes the bravest thing you can do is let someone else help you be strong.
“I’m not running anymore,” I whisper into the quiet.
His answer rumbles through his chest. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go this time.”