Chapter 3 - The Man From Her Past
“Elias Vale.”
Lucian repeated the name as if his mind needed proof it had heard correctly.
Isolda's older brother.
The man in the photograph was not a lover.
He was family.
Alaric knew that.
Lucian slowly looked at his father.
“You knew who he was.”
Alaric did not answer.
“You knew.”
“I knew his name.”
“You made it sound like my wife was cheating on me.”
“I wanted you to question how much you actually knew about her.”
Lucian's disbelief hardened into disgust.
“You've lost your mind.”
Alaric's face remained composed.
“Sit down.”
“No.”
“Lucian—”
“You followed my pregnant wife.”
“For your protection.”
“You created a divorce plan.”
“For the company.”
“You manipulated Celeste's travel.”
“For—”
Lucian slammed his palm onto the desk.
“Stop saying it was for me.”
The library fell silent.
Lucian had never raised his voice at his father.
Not as a child.
Not when Alaric forced him into boarding school.
Not when he chose Lucian's university.
Not when he told him his first business idea was embarrassing.
Not when he warned him that marrying Isolda, a middle-class architect with no powerful family connections, would dilute the Draven legacy.
But something had changed at the airport.
Perhaps it was seeing his wife clutch their daughter protectively.
Perhaps it was realizing that obedience had finally cost him something money could not buy.
Lucian picked up the surveillance photograph.
“You will not contact Isolda.”
Alaric gave a humorless smile.
“You can't order me.”
Lucian met his eyes.
“I control forty-one percent of Draven Holdings.”
“So?”
“The voting agreement gives me temporary executive authority if there's evidence the chairman acted against the company's fiduciary interest.”
For the first time, Alaric's expression shifted.
“You wouldn't.”
“You redirected company resources to investigate my wife.”
Alaric said nothing.
“You altered corporate travel for personal manipulation.”
Still nothing.
“I wonder what the board will think.”
“You would destroy your own father?”
“No.”
Lucian walked toward the door.
“You've been doing that yourself for years.”
He left.
Meanwhile, Isolda sat in the passenger seat of her brother's car with Amara sleeping in a rear-facing infant seat.
Elias kept glancing at her.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean tired.”
“Still thank you.”
He smiled slightly.
It was the first almost-normal moment she had experienced since labor.
Then Elias's expression turned serious.
“Do you want me to punch him?”
“No.”
“Break one expensive object?”
“No.”
“Scratch his car?”
“Elias.”
“I'm brainstorming.”
Despite herself, Isolda laughed.
The sound startled her.
Elias relaxed.
“There she is.”
Isolda looked out the window.
“I don't know who ‘there she is’ is anymore.”
“You're still you.”
“No.”
She glanced at Amara.
“I'm someone's mother now.”
“That doesn't erase you.”
“It changes everything.”
“Yes.”
Elias turned onto a quieter road.
“But you're allowed to figure out what that means without Lucian breathing over your shoulder.”
Isolda had called Elias that morning because she needed somewhere completely disconnected from the Draven family.
Their late grandmother had left them a cottage two hours north of the city.
Nothing glamorous.
Two bedrooms.
An old fireplace.
A garden Isolda remembered from childhood.
It was exactly what she wanted.
Anonymity.
Silence.
Space.
“Did Lucian know about the cottage?” Elias asked.
“No.”
“Good.”
Isolda frowned.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Elias.”
He gripped the steering wheel.
“His father's people have been asking questions about you for months.”
Isolda turned toward him.
“What?”
“I didn't tell you because you were pregnant.”
“You knew?”
“One private investigator approached me outside my office.”
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
Isolda remembered the medical appointment in the photograph.
Elias had accompanied her because Lucian was in Singapore.
“Why didn't you tell Lucian?”
“I assumed Lucian sent him.”
“He didn't.”
Elias looked at her.
“You're sure?”
“I don't know anything anymore.”
That answer frightened them both.
At the cottage, Elias carried luggage inside while Isolda settled Amara.
The house smelled faintly of cedar and old books.
For the first time since giving birth, Isolda felt she could breathe.
She showered.
Changed into soft clothes.
Fed Amara.
Then slept for three uninterrupted hours.
When she woke, the afternoon light had faded.
Elias was cooking soup.
“You're domestic now?” she asked.
“Don't insult me.”
“You're using canned broth.”
“Leave.”
She smiled.
Then noticed an envelope on the table.
“What is that?”
Elias stopped stirring.
“It was under the front door when we arrived.”
Her smile vanished.
“You opened it?”
“No.”
Isolda approached.
Her name was handwritten across the front.
ISOLDA.
No last name.
No stamp.
No address.
Someone had physically brought it here.
Elias said, “We should call the police.”
Isolda stared at the envelope.
“Lucian doesn't know this place.”
“You think.”
She looked at him.
“I didn't tell him.”
“That doesn't mean his security people can't find it.”
Isolda took a breath.
Then opened the envelope.
Inside was a single sheet.
You don't know what happened at the airport.
Ask Celeste why she agreed to go.
Isolda read it twice.
Elias leaned closer.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
Her phone rang.
Lucian.
She watched it until the call stopped.
Then it rang again.
Elias raised an eyebrow.
“You're going to have to talk to him eventually.”
“Not right now.”
The phone rang a third time.
Isolda answered.
“What?”
Lucian's relief was audible.
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“Is Elias with you?”
She stiffened.
“How do you know I'm with Elias?”
“Rosewood told me.”
“Why were they reporting to you?”
“They called because I'm listed as your emergency contact.”
“You don't get to use that to track me.”
“I wasn't tracking you.”
His voice softened.
“I was afraid something happened.”
“Something did happen.”
“I know.”
“No, Lucian. You keep saying you know, but you don't.”
He was quiet.
Isolda looked at the note.
“Did your father send someone to follow me during my pregnancy?”
A long pause.
“Yes.”
The direct answer caught her off guard.
“You knew?”
“I found out today.”
“Why?”
“He claims he was protecting me.”
“From what?”
“You.”
Isolda closed her eyes.
Of course.
Alaric had never hidden his dislike.
But surveillance was different.
“He planned for us to divorce.”
“What?”
Lucian told her about the folder.
The settlement.
The custody strategy.
The photographs.
By the time he finished, Elias had turned off the stove and was listening.
Isolda sat slowly.
“Your father wanted to pay me to disappear.”
“Yes.”
“Before our daughter was even born.”
“Yes.”
“And you expect me to come back into that family?”
“No.”
She looked at the phone.
Lucian continued.
“I expect nothing from you.”
“Then why are you calling?”
“Because I needed you to know.”
Isolda stared at the handwritten note.
“Did he send the hotel reservation?”
“He says no.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I don't know.”
“Someone just left a note at the cottage.”
Lucian went silent.
“What cottage?”
Isolda immediately regretted the words.
“Never mind.”
“What did the note say?”
She hesitated.
Then read it.
Ask Celeste why she agreed to go.
Lucian exhaled.
“Don't touch anything else.”
“Don't tell me what to do.”
“You're right. Sorry.”
The quick correction disarmed her.
“I'm calling Celeste.”
“Why?”
“Because I need the truth.”
“Isolda.”
“What?”
“Please don't meet anyone alone.”
She almost snapped back.
Then she looked at Amara.
“All right.”
It was not forgiveness.
But it was the first request of his she had accepted.
Isolda found Celeste's number in an old charity committee email.
She called.
Celeste answered cautiously.
“Hello?”
“This is Isolda.”
Silence.
Then, “I wondered when you'd call.”
That sentence chilled her.
“Why?”
“Because someone has been trying to make sure you hate me.”
Isolda glanced at Elias.
“Did you agree to go to Zurich because of Lucian?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Celeste took a breath.
“Because Alaric Draven asked me to.”
Isolda's fingers tightened around the phone.
“Why would he do that?”
“He wanted photographs.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“Photographs of what?”
“Lucian and me together.”
“Why?”
“I didn't know at first.”
Isolda stood.
“And when did you know?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“You still went.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Celeste's voice dropped.
“Because Alaric wasn't the person I was really working for.”
Isolda's stomach turned.
“Who were you working for?”
Celeste hesitated.
Then said, “Someone trying to stop him.”
Elias frowned.
Isolda asked, “Stop him from what?”
“I can't tell you over the phone.”
“Then we're done.”
“Wait.”
Isolda almost disconnected.
Celeste rushed on.
“Your husband doesn't know the worst thing his father has done.”
Isolda froze.
“What?”
“It involves the company.”
“I don't care about the company.”
“It involves you too.”
That changed everything.
“And Amara.”
Isolda's blood went cold.
“My daughter?”
“Yes.”
“What does my newborn have to do with Alaric?”
Celeste's voice became urgent.
“Meet me tomorrow.”
“No.”
“Public place.”
“No.”
“Then bring your brother.”
Isolda looked at Elias.
He shook his head.
Celeste continued.
“If Lucian knows, Alaric will know.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn't.”
A pause.
“But you should trust the document I'm going to show you.”
“What document?”
Before Celeste answered, a loud crash sounded on her end.
Then breathing.
“Celeste?”
No response.
“Celeste?”
A man's voice spoke faintly in the background.
Celeste whispered, “They're here.”
The call ended.
Isolda stared at the screen.
Elias reached for his keys.
“We're leaving.”
A floorboard creaked upstairs.
Both of them froze.
Amara slept in the bassinet beside them.
Elias looked toward the staircase.
“We're the only people in this house.”
Another creak.
Then a slow footstep.
Isolda grabbed her daughter.
May you like
The bedroom door upstairs opened.
And someone began walking down.
