The park bench was cold, damp from the morning mist. Isla sat with her tablet balanced on her knees, watching the red line on the graph plummet.
Curtis Dynamics: -2%
Pruitt Enterprises: -18%
It was a bloodbath.
Isla tapped the screen, initiating Phase 2. A script she'd written weeks ago began to run. It scraped the cloud backups of Chase's phone-the ones he thought he'd deleted.
Thousands of text messages began to populate on Twitter, tagged with PruittLeaks.
Isla watched the feed refresh.
_Chase: "The old man is losing it. Robert can't even read a balance sheet anymore. Once we're married, I'll push him out within a year."_
_Brande: "Just make sure I get the jewelry before you put him in a home."_
Isla took a deep breath. The air tasted like rain and exhaust.
Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.
_Grandfather wants to see you._
Isla closed the tablet. Her hands were trembling, not from fear, but from adrenaline. Arthur Pruitt didn't do family dinners. He did acquisitions and liquidations.
A black Rolls Royce pulled up to the curb. The window rolled down. Alfred was in the driver's seat, his expression grave.
Isla climbed into the back. The interior smelled of leather and cedar. Alfred handed her a manila folder without a word.
Inside was a copy of her mother's trust. Highlighted in yellow was a clause Isla had memorized years ago: _Beneficiary gains full control upon marriage or reaching the age of twenty-five._
_Or, in the event of gross mismanagement by the trustee._
They drove in silence to the estate. Not the mansion where Isla lived, but the main house. Arthur's fortress.
He was sitting in his wheelchair by the fireplace, staring at the flames. He didn't turn when Isla entered the library.
"You made a mess," his voice rasped. It sounded like dry leaves scraping together.
Isla sat in the leather wingback chair opposite him. She pulled out her phone.
_I cleaned the wound. Robert let it rot._
Arthur turned his chair. His eyes were milky with age, but sharp. He threw a newspaper at her feet. "Our reputation is in the toilet."
_It was already there. I just flushed._
Arthur stared at Isla. A corner of his mouth twitched. "You have your mother's stubbornness. And your father's cruelty. Dangerous mix." He gestured to the folder. "Your mother also left you a physical key. A signet ring. She said it was for the vault at the old Swiss bank, the one that only recognizes family crests. You find that ring, you find her real legacy."
Isla didn't blink.
_Chase is embezzling from Sterling Industries to pay for Brande's lifestyle. If the SEC finds out before we cut ties, Pruitt goes down with them._
Isla held up the tablet, showing him the spreadsheet of Chase's unauthorized transfers.
Arthur leaned forward, squinting at the numbers. He was a shark smelling blood.
"If I back you," he said slowly, "what do I get?"
_Plausible deniability. The stock recovers. I force Chase to cover the losses. And I want my mother's assets released to me. Today._
"You can't speak," Arthur scoffed. "How will you run a meeting?"
Isla met his gaze, her expression unyielding. She didn't need to type. Her silence was the answer.
Arthur laughed. It was a dry, hacking sound. "Fine."
The library doors burst open. Robert and Elena rushed in, looking disheveled.
"Father!" Robert shouted. "You have to stop her! She's destroying us!"
Arthur didn't even look at them. He pointed a bony finger at Isla. "She reports to me now."
Elena gasped. "Arthur, you can't be serious! She's... she's defective!"
Arthur picked up a heavy crystal tumbler and hurled it. It smashed inches from Elena's feet. She shrieked and jumped back.
"Get out," Arthur commanded. "And take your whore of a daughter and that thief she's sleeping with out of my sight."
Robert turned purple. He looked at Isla, betrayal written in every line of his face. She just sat there, her hands folded in her lap, perfectly still.
"Isla stays," Arthur said.
Isla watched them leave. For the first time in her life, the silence in the room wasn't oppressive. It was power.
