Chapter 3

William Vanderbilt Sr. had intended that public reprimand and forced apology two years ago to be a lesson for Izzy.

He' d seen her brilliance, but also a budding arrogance, a sense of entitlement.

He wanted to ensure she understood her place, her loyalty was to the Vanderbilts, to Ethan, the future head of the empire she was now a part of.

He wanted to bind her to them, to curb any rebellious spirit before it became a problem.

Ethan, watching Izzy fuss over Leo' s feigned injury in Aspen, finally understood his father' s actions.

His father hadn' t been cruel; he' d been strategic.

But his strategy had failed. Izzy' s loyalty was not for sale, not for Vanderbilt opportunities, not even for Ethan' s then-genuine affection.

It belonged solely to Leo Hayes.

Ethan had felt empathy for Izzy during that long-ago humiliation. He' d wanted to tell her it was okay, that he didn' t need an apology.

Now, seeing her so willingly devoted to Leo, so tender with him, the memory of his past empathy felt like a betrayal of himself.

She hadn' t deserved his sympathy. She' d been playing a role then, just as she was playing one now.

The only difference was the audience and the authenticity of her performance.

He tried to shake off the bitter thoughts.

The next day, the retreat agenda included a charity sailing regatta on the nearby lake.

Ethan was a decent sailor. His father had insisted on it, another skill for a well-rounded heir.

Izzy, it turned out, was a skilled sailor herself, a fact she' d kept quiet until she' d effortlessly won a small, informal race the previous summer.

Ethan found himself paired with a couple of junior executives. Izzy was on another boat, along with Leo, who was "gamely" participating despite his "injured" ankle, propped up comfortably near the stern.

Ethan focused on the wind, the sails, trying to lose himself in the mechanics of the race.

He needed the distraction.

The wind picked up. His boat was cutting through the water smoothly.

Then, a sudden, sharp crack.

The rigging on his main mast snapped.

The boom swung wildly, uncontrolled.

Ethan ducked, shouting a warning to his crew.

The boat lurched violently, threatening to capsize.

He fought the tiller, trying to regain control, but the broken rigging made it impossible.

Izzy' s boat was nearby. He saw her glance over, her expression unreadable for a moment.

She was focused on Leo, laughing at something he said, her hand resting on his arm.

She hadn' t seen the initial snap. She wasn' t looking at his boat, despite her expertise.

"Izzy!" Ethan yelled, a wave of cold lake water washing over him as his boat tilted dangerously. "Rigging snap!"

His voice was hoarse, desperate.

Only then did she seem to register the emergency.

Her expression changed. She barked orders to her own crew, expertly maneuvering her boat closer to his.

It seemed to take an eternity, but she was there, shouting instructions, her voice calm and authoritative.

She made it look easy, securing his flailing boom, helping to stabilize his boat.

But the damage was done.

During the violent lurch, Ethan had been thrown against the side, his shoulder taking the brunt of the impact.

A sharp, searing pain shot through him.

He was soaked, cold, and his arm was throbbing.

Back on shore, the retreat doctor confirmed it: a dislocated shoulder and severe bruising.

Izzy was suddenly all concern, her brow furrowed.

"Ethan, I am so sorry," she said, her voice laced with what sounded like genuine remorse. "I should have been watching more closely. Are you in much pain?"

She volunteered to help him, to "atone" for her "negligence."

For the next two days, while his arm was in a sling, Izzy was surprisingly attentive.

She brought him his meals, helped him with small tasks he couldn' t manage one-handed, even read to him from company reports.

Her care was meticulous, almost... tender.

Ethan was confused.

Her sudden attentiveness, her apparent concern, it almost made him doubt his earlier conclusions.

Maybe her coldness was just her personality. Maybe she did care, in her own way.

He found himself almost softening, the memory of her devotion to Leo at the gala momentarily blurred by her current solicitousness.

Then, the night before they were due to leave Aspen, he overheard it.

He couldn' t sleep because of the pain in his shoulder and was wandering the quiet lodge, hoping the movement would help.

He passed a partially open door to a small lounge.

Izzy' s voice. And Chloe Davis' s.

"...did you see his face when the rigging went?" Chloe was saying, a hint of laughter in her tone.

"I only meant for it to be a minor inconvenience," Izzy replied, her voice low, cool. "A little scare. Payback for Leo' s ankle. He was so upset about Ethan 'tripping' him."

Ethan froze, his blood turning to ice.

"Sabotage?" Chloe sounded impressed. "Izzy, you' re ruthless. How did you even manage it?"

"A few minutes alone with his boat before the race. A small, precise cut to the rope, just enough to fray it so it would give under pressure. I didn' t expect the boom to swing so wildly, or for him to get hurt that badly."

A beat of silence.

"So, all this Florence Nightingale act?" Chloe asked. "Fussing over him?"

Izzy' s voice was devoid of warmth. "Compensation. And it keeps him confused. Makes him think I might actually care. It' s... useful."

Ethan backed away, his heart pounding, a cold dread spreading through him.

The pain in his shoulder was nothing compared to the agony of this new betrayal.

It wasn' t negligence. It was deliberate. Malicious.

She had sabotaged his boat. She had injured him.

And her care, her "atonement," was just another layer of her sickening manipulation.

To punish him for an "injury" to Leo that Leo himself had faked.

The depth of her cruelty, her calculated deceit, was staggering.

He felt a wave of nausea.

His "brilliant," "captivating" Izzy was a monster.