Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Eli
The kitchen feels too quiet, my movements too loud as I go through the motions of making coffee. Each soft sound from my bedroom—Isla moving, getting dressed—sends another crack through my carefully constructed control.
Last night still burns under my skin, the memory of her taste, her touch, the way she came apart in my arms. But something’s shifted since those text messages arrived.
I lean against the counter, my palms pressed flat against cool marble. The sun creeps over Manhattan, spilling through my windows and catching on chrome appliances I rarely use.
Everything in here is pristine, untouched, except for the wine glasses we left in the sink last night. Funny how one detail can crack the perfect facade. Just like how Isla’s whole body tensed when Drake’s name flashed on her phone.
The coffee machine sputters its last drops into the pot. I pour two cups, muscle memory guiding my hands—splash of cream in hers, black for me. My body still remembers her preferences like I made her coffee yesterday.
Soft footsteps make me turn. Isla stands in the doorway wearing my shirt from last night, all long legs and tumbled copper hair, and for a moment I forget how to breathe. Then I catch the shadow in her eyes, the guilt tightening her shoulders, and reality crashes back in.
“Here.” I offer her a cup, careful to keep my voice steady.
She reaches for it, fingers brushing mine, and electricity shoots through my arm.
“Thanks.” She wraps both hands around the mug like a shield.
“Listen, about those messages?—”
“From Drake?” The name tastes bitter. “Must be important if he’s texting you at dawn about Wolfe.”
She freezes, coffee halfway to her lips. “You saw?”
“Enough to know you’ve been keeping something from me.”
I force the words out, though they taste wrong.
Isla has always been relentless about integrity—so why does this feel like betrayal?
I set my untouched coffee aside, suddenly needing my hands free.
“The question is why.”
“It’s complicated.” She won’t quite meet my eyes.
“Then uncomplicate it.” I step closer, drawn by that magnetic pull she’s always had over me. “Because I’ve been looking into Wolfe too, Isla. And I think we both know there’s more to this than just business.”
She sets her cup down with shaking hands. “Eli?—”
The security panel chimes, cutting through our tension like a knife.
“Eli.” Drake’s voice crackles through the speaker, urgent. “Let me up. Now. You both need to see this.”
“Perfect timing,” I mutter, jabbing the access code into the panel harder than necessary.
Isla shifts behind me, and I catch her wrapping her arms around herself—a defensive gesture I remember too well.
“I should change,” she says quietly. “I still have clothes in your?—”
“Closet. Yeah.” The words come out rougher than intended. “Top right drawer, where you left them.”
She disappears down the hall just as the elevator dings. Drake bursts in, tablet in hand, then stops short when he sees me alone in the kitchen.
“Where’s—“
“Changing.” I lean against the counter, arms crossed. “Want to tell me why you’re tracking her phone?”
He has the grace to look uncomfortable.
“Standard security protocol. After what happened at the construction site?—”
“Bullshit.” The word comes out sharp. “How long have you two been investigating Wolfe?”
“Ask her yourself.” Drake moves to the coffee machine, helping himself like he belongs here. The casual gesture grates against my nerves.
“Though from the looks of things, you two had other priorities last night.”
My jaw clenches. “Watch it.”
“No, you watch it.” He turns, all pretense of casualness gone.
“I’ve spent five years picking up the pieces every time she sacrifices her happiness to protect someone. So before you start throwing around accusations, maybe ask yourself why she’d risk everything to investigate Wolfe in the first place.”
Before I can respond, Isla returns wearing slim black trousers and a silk blouse I remember buying for her birthday. The sight tightens my chest—how easily she slides between personal and professional, past and present.
“Show him everything.” She tells Drake, her voice steady despite the tension radiating off her.
Drake’s fingers fly across his tablet, and suddenly my kitchen windows transform into display screens. Property records, patent applications, security footage—all pointing to a pattern I’ve been tracking myself.
“Wolfe’s not just after the project,” Drake explains, pulling up a timeline. “He’s been systematically?—“
“Acquiring patents that mirror our sustainable technology,” I finish, the pieces clicking into place. “Creating a paper trail to prove our systems are fundamentally unsafe.”
Isla’s head snaps up. “You knew?”
“I’ve been investigating too.” I meet her eyes across the kitchen island.
“The Ethics Committee found evidence he deliberately sabotaged Cornerstone’s safety protocols. He’s trying to recreate that failure with the Artisan Hotel.”
“Jesus.” Drake drops into a chair. “You’ve both been running parallel investigations this whole time?”
“Apparently.” I can’t look away from Isla, watching emotions war across her face. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
“Were you?” she counters, but there’s no heat in it. Just tired resignation. “I was trying to protect you from what we found about your father’s?—“
“Your father acquired the land illegally.” Drake’s words land like a bomb in the quiet kitchen. “The property records show?—”
“Bullshit.” The denial rips from my throat, sharp and instinctive. My father was ruthless, strategic, but he wasn’t a liar. He built everything from the ground up. If this is true, then everything I’ve built—everything I am—rests on a foundation of stolen land.
“My father was a lot of things, but he wasn’t?—“
“Eli.” Isla steps closer, her voice gentle. “We found documentation. The original deed, the timing of the transfers?—”
“No.” I pull away from her, fury and hurt warring in my chest. “You don’t get to stand in my kitchen wearing my clothes and accuse my father of fraud.”
“Then look at the evidence yourself.” Drake turns his tablet toward me, but I can’t focus on the scrolling documents. Can’t process that the woman I just spent the night with has been building a case against my family.
My hands shake as I pull out my phone. My instinct is to call my brother, to bring him into this war.
“Xander needs to see this.”
“It’s not even 7 a.m.,” Drake starts.
“My brother’s always up this early.” I hit the video call button, needing someone else in my corner. The screen lights up to show Xander and Reyna in their kitchen, both freezing at the sight of us.
“Eli?” Xander’s eyes narrow, taking in the scene—me in yesterday’s pants, Isla in old clothes from my closet, Drake hovering with his tablet.
“What’s going on?”
“They’re saying Father acquired the Artisan Hotel site illegally.” The words taste like ash. “That he stole it from Wolfe’s family.”
“That’s impossible.” Xander’s denial is immediate.
“Every major acquisition went through multiple legal reviews. Carter personally oversaw?—”
“Carter,” Reyna cuts in, her dark eyes sharp. “We should call him. Now.”
“It’s too early,” Drake protests again.
“Not for Carter,” Reyna says. “Not for this.”
She’s right. Carter’s dedication to Father’s legacy means he’s probably been up for hours, reviewing documents in that meticulous way of his. My fingers are already dialing his number.
“Mr. Alderidge.” Carter answers on the first ring, his familiar voice settling something in my chest. “I assume this is about the property records Ms. Carrington and Mr. Thorne have been investigating?”
Of course he knows. Carter always knows.
“They’re saying Father stole the land,” I tell him, hating how young I sound. “That the acquisition wasn’t legal.”
A long pause fills the line. “Put me on video,” Carter says finally. “All of you need to see something.”
Carter’s face appears on my kitchen display, and something in his expression makes my stomach drop. He reaches off-screen, retrieving a leather portfolio I’ve seen a hundred times in his office.
“I’ve been waiting for this day,” he says, adjusting his glasses. “Though I didn’t expect to be having this conversation with all of you in Eli’s kitchen at dawn.”
Xander and Reyna’s faces fill another window, both leaning forward with identical looks of concern. I feel Isla shift beside me, her arm brushing mine, and despite my anger, I find myself leaning into her warmth.
“The Artisan Hotel site,” Carter continues, opening the portfolio, “has a more complicated history than any of you realize. Drake, those property records you found? They’re real, but incomplete.”
Drake straightens. “What do you mean incomplete?”
“Edward knew James Wolfe would eventually challenge the acquisition. He prepared for it.” Carter holds up a stack of yellowed papers. “These are the complete transaction records. Every permit, every inspection, every legal review—documented with obsessive precision.”
“But the transfers—” Isla starts.
“Were entirely legitimate.” Carter’s voice carries absolute certainty. “Edward was ruthless in business, yes. But he understood that his sons’ futures required an unassailable foundation. Everything he built for you had to be beyond legal reproach.”
Relief floods my chest, but it’s quickly followed by confusion.
“Then why is Wolfe?—”
“Because he’s not really after the property.” Carter pulls out another document. “He’s after revenge. But not for the reasons you think.”
Reyna leans closer to her screen.
“The safety protocols Drake found. They match Cornerstone’s failure patterns.”
“Exactly.” Carter nods. “Wolfe isn’t trying to expose fraud. He’s trying to recreate a tragedy—one he helped engineer five years ago.”
The implications hit me like a physical blow. Beside me, Isla sucks in a sharp breath.
“IRIS,” she says suddenly, “show current Artisan site status.”
Red warning lights flood the displays.
“Multiple unauthorized entries detected,” IRIS announces. “Pattern matches?—”
“Cornerstone’s failure signature,” Drake finishes, already typing frantically. “They’re not just testing anymore. They’re actively trying to compromise our structural integrity.”
“Jesus.” Xander runs a hand through his hair. “How long do we have?”
“Hours, maybe.” Drake doesn’t look up from his tablet. “They’re targeting the same integration points that failed in Cornerstone.”
“We need to call an emergency board meeting,” Reyna says. “Get Mrs. Wu involved. If Wolfe’s really trying to recreate Cornerstone’s failure?—“
“She needs to understand the connection.” Isla’s voice is steady despite the tension radiating off her. “The Ethics Committee has to see how his current actions mirror what happened five years ago.”
I look at her then, really look at her, and see past my hurt to the fierce protector she’s always been. She wasn’t investigating my father to destroy his legacy—she was trying to save everything we’ve built.
“I’ll have the board room ready in an hour,” Xander says. “Carter?—”
“I’ll bring everything.” Carter holds up the portfolio. “It’s time the whole truth came out.”
As the screens go dark, I turn to find Drake and Isla already gathering their evidence. The sun breaks fully over Manhattan, painting the Artisan Hotel’s skeleton in gold and shadow.
Whatever Wolfe’s planning, whatever truth Carter’s about to reveal—one thing is clear. Isla wasn’t my enemy. She never was. And maybe, just maybe, it’s time I start believing in us again.
I just pray we’re not too late.