Chapter Twenty-Four
Isabela returned to the office late in the afternoon, resolved to make progress: real, measurable progress. She needed to take all the threads she’d pulled loose in the last week and weave them into a defense compelling enough to keep Christopher Macklin out of jail.
As the elevator hummed its way to the top floor, her thoughts spiraled. Now that she knew about the July ninth incident, the temptation to use it in his defense gnawed at her. He’d never explicitly told her not to. Still, he hadn’t said she could either.
The way he spoke about it was like it was some festering wound he only unwrapped because she asked just the right way, at just the right moment. She knew it wasn’t hers to share.
They’d been in his bed when he told her. Bare skin, whispered words, and more vulnerability in one hour than most people managed in a year. That kind of intimacy had unspoken rules. Confidentiality was assumed. But would keeping his confidence help him or bury him?
The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. She stepped into the hallway, nodding at a few late-working colleagues and passing Kelly at his desk with a distracted wave. “Catch you in a bit,” she said over her shoulder.
She slid her key into the lock, pushed open her office door and froze. Something was off. The energy was wrong. Like the air had shifted and hadn’t settled yet. Her eyes swept the room.
At first, it wasn’t anything obvious. Just a weird stillness.
But then she saw it. A file on the floor, splayed open like it had been thrown.
One of her desk drawers hung ajar. The framed picture from her law school graduation, her whole family huddled together and smiling, was face down on the carpet.
She stepped inside on trembling legs. Each footfall felt loud, too loud, like the room itself was holding its breath. She reached her desk and stopped short. There, placed with disturbing precision at the center of her blotter, was a photo.
It was of Chris running. Sweat clung to the back of his shirt, earbuds in, utterly unaware of the lens capturing him from a distance. That wasn’t what made her stomach twist. The photo was marred by a red “X” scrawled across it. The message couldn’t be clearer.
The room spun slightly. Her hand flew to her mouth. Bile surged in her throat. She backed away fast, almost tripping over the leg of her chair, bolted out the door and down the hall, heels clacking a frantic rhythm. Her chest heaved as she skidded to a stop at Kelly’s desk.
“Who was in my office?” she gasped.
He blinked, confused. “No one. Why?”
“Someone was in there. They left a mess. They went through my files.” Her voice was climbing, panic edging out logic. “Kelly, who the hell was in there?”
He flinched at her tone. She instantly felt guilty.
“I’m sorry,” she said, breathless. “This isn’t your fault. I just ... I need to know.”
Kelly stood, concern shadowing his face. He placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her gently back to the office. When they stepped inside, his reaction was immediate.
“Shit,” he muttered, eyes scanning the room. “Iz ... I swear, no one’s walked past me. Not since I got back from lunch.”
“Then they came while you were gone.”
“Security logs every visitor,” he said. “Let’s go talk to them. Now. I’m not playing around when it comes to your safety.”
She nodded, pulse still racing. The photo’s image burned behind her eyelids every time she blinked. They were watching. They had been inside her office. Her sanctuary. They knew exactly who to threaten. Suddenly, it wasn’t just her or Chris’s career on the line. It was their lives.
****
By the time the clock edged toward six, Isabela felt as though she’d lived a week inside a single day.
The morning had been rough with her shaky presentation.
Then came the afternoon, which she refused to dissect any further.
She’d already thought about it too much, replayed the touches, the kisses, the way it seemed like something way more than physical. No. Not now. Not here.
Her eyes swept her office, still showing faint signs of the earlier vandalism. The maintenance crew had done their best to clean it up quickly after she and Kelly had reported it, but the unease clung to the space.
She hadn’t gotten much done since coming back from security. They had gone to the control room and were shocked to find that the footage was “inaccessible.” According to the head of building operations, the internet was still spotty.
They had claimed that it was an unfortunate coincidence as their security system was too state of the art to be hacked.
Isabela doubted that. She also didn’t believe in coincidences anymore.
Not with the photos. Not with the clear message she found on her desk.
Especially not with her office being the only one on the floor violated.
Now, two security guards flanked either end of the hallway.
One was stationed at the elevators, the other by the stairwell.
A silent reassurance that didn’t feel reassuring at all.
This whole thing was barrelling out of control.
What had once been threats and unsettling gestures had evolved into something tangible. They could reach her anywhere.
She shut off her desk lamp, the click of the switch sounding far too loud in the quiet office, then slipped her blazer on.
She was late for Jalen’s birthday dinner, and her mom had already texted twice asking if she wanted her plate warmed up.
Locking the door behind her, she turned the corner on her way to Kelly’s desk.
Kelly was standing, messenger bag slung over one shoulder, talking with Keith Stewart, Mr. Torres’s personal assistant. The man wore a navy suit with his hands folded neatly in front of him. He looked kind and patient. They both turned when she took a step closer to Kelly’s desk.
“Ah, I was hoping to catch you before you left for the day,” Keith said, his expression smooth, polished, like he had every right to be there.
Isabela’s stomach tightened.
“And as I mentioned to Mr. Stewart,” Kelly said, the tone of his voice dry as sandpaper, “You’re not taking any more appointments today.”
“Ms. Cruz,” Keith said, with a slight incline of his head. “I promise not to keep you long. Just a quick word.”
Her jaw ached from how tightly she ground her teeth, but she offered a tight smile. “Thanks, Kelly. And thank you, Mr. Stewart, but I have an obligation this evening. Any other time, I’d be happy to make space.”
“No problem,” Keith replied easily. “May I walk you out, then? Seems we’re heading in the same direction.”
Something about the way he said it made her skin prickle. Like it was already a foregone conclusion.
“That would be kind,” she said, keeping her tone neutral.
Kelly caught the look in her eyes. “I’m heading out for the day as well. I’ll walk down with you both.”
Relief softened the knot in her chest. She grabbed her bag from beside the desk and adjusted it over her shoulder, falling into step between Keith and Kelly as they moved toward the elevators.
She couldn’t put her finger on what exactly felt wrong but everything in her gut told her that Mr. Stewart hadn’t come just to say hello.
They stepped into the elevator, the three of them descending in an uneasy silence. The overhead lights cast a sterile glow, making Keith’s crisp suit seem even more pressed, his demeanor more carefully calculated.
Isabela broke the silence first. “How can I help you, Mr. Stewart?”
“Please, call me Keith.”
She nodded.
Keith turned toward her with a faint smile. “I was hoping to ask about the Macklin case.”
Her spine straightened. “Unfortunately, I can’t discuss much. But we appreciated you and the Torres family’s willingness to meet with our firm. Your cooperation was noted.”
Keith gave a small nod. “Of course, and if I’m being completely honest, Mr. Torres just wanted to be certain you were unharmed, after what happened. He was concerned after hearing about yet another hit and run involving Walker and Doyle.”
Isabela lifted an eyebrow, the tone of his voice putting her on alert. She darted a glance at Kelly beside her. His face remained neutral, but the slight furrow in his brow told her he wasn’t buying it either.
Keith, oblivious or pretending to be, continued smoothly. “I must admit, I’m surprised to see you looking so sharp and healthy. Rumors said you were hit pretty hard. Car totaled, if I recall.”
She turned to face him. “It will take more than a coward in a truck to break my spirit.”
Keith let out a chuckle. “That’s the kind of fire I admire. Your firm is lucky to have such an intelligent, fierce servant on their roster.”
“I’m more than just a servant,” she said, tone light but edged with steel.
Kelly grinned beside her. “Damn right she is.”
The elevator dinged to announce their arrival, as Kelly’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen.
“Alexis,” Kelly muttered.
“Go, take the call.” Isabela said. “I’ll walk Keith to the front doors.”
Kelly looked conflicted, but said, “I’ll call you in ten minutes to close off our conversation from earlier.”
There was no conversation to close off. She loved that Kelly had subtly told Keith that if she didn’t answer the phone when he called, there would be hell to pay.
“I’ll talk to you soon.” Kelly stepped away just as they entered the lobby.
Isabela offered a wave, then turned back to Keith as they neared the glass front doors. The soft click of her heels echoed in the space between them.
“Well,” she said, extending her hand, “I appreciate your concern in coming down here. But if that’s all...”
Keith took her hand in his own, squeezing lightly, just enough to make the gesture linger. “Tell me, Ms. Cruz, what are your ambitions? A woman like you could go anywhere. Yet here you are, drowning in a case that frankly, looks bad from every angle.”
Her brow ticked upward. “Excuse me?”
“I only mean,” he said with a faint smile, withdrawing his hand, “Fighting for someone like Macklin, well, let’s just say there are better hills to die on. If you’re hoping to make partner this might not be the wisest banner to wave.”
She opened her mouth, ready to issue a retort that would cut neatly through his smug tone, but he held up a hand and shook his head.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to speak out of turn. Only to say that you’ve caught Mr. Torres’s eye. If you ever needed anything, even though we’re on opposite sides of this particular matter, you should feel free to reach out.”
She wanted to bite his head off, instead she gave a practiced, polite smile. “Have a good evening, Mr. Stewart.”
He nodded once. “You too, Ms. Cruz.”
Stepping through the doors, she welcomed the warm twilight. The glass closed behind her with a whispering hiss, but the chill didn’t leave her skin. The conversation replayed in her mind as she watched him walk down the street and turn the corner.
On the surface, everything Keith said sounded cordial. But underneath, it had felt like a warning. Doubling back, Isabela walked through the lobby, into the elevator and rode it down to the parking garage. She didn’t want Keith to know where she parked or what she drove.
By the time she reached her car, her palms were damp against the leather straps of her satchel. She climbed in, locked the doors, and sat for a long moment, pulse still unsteady. She thought she understood the game. But now, she wasn’t so sure everyone was playing by the rules.