Chapter 5 Ghosts from the Past

Isabella's heels pounded against the sleek marble floors as she stormed into the lobby of Kane Technologies, her heart in her throat.

She hadn't heard her mother's name in years. Not since the night she walked out of the Sinclair mansion and never came back. No goodbyes. No explanations. Just silence.

Isabella had buried that pain so deep, she'd convinced herself it didn't matter anymore. But the moment she saw her standing near the security desk, draped in furs, dark sunglasses perched atop her perfectly done hair, mouth painted in a red too bold for a woman her age, her carefully constructed walls began to tremble.

"Darling!" the woman crooned, arms wide. "You look... older. But still beautiful."

Isabella stopped short, eyes narrowing. "What are you doing here?"

Claudia Sinclair's smile didn't falter. "You always did greet me like I was the help."

"You're not the help," Isabella bit out. "You're worse. At least they never abandoned me."

That made Claudia flinch, but she quickly smoothed her expression. "I came because I heard about your father. And about... everything else."

Of course she had. The tabloids had made sure of that.

"I don't need your sympathy," Isabella said coldly. "And I don't need your help."

"You need something," Claudia said, stepping closer. "Look at you. Working as someone's secretary? You were born to lead, darling. Not fetch coffee."

Isabella's jaw clenched. She could feel the weight of curious stares from employees and security guards around them. The scene was loud. Dramatic. Exactly the kind of performance her mother thrived on.

"You've made your entrance," Isabella said, her voice low. "Now leave."

Claudia laughed softly. "You've grown steel under all that silk, haven't you? Just like your father."

Isabella froze.

Don't react. Don't let her get inside.

"I'll walk you out," she said tightly.

But as she turned, Claudia grabbed her wrist, her grip surprisingly strong.

"Wait. Just... give me five minutes. Somewhere private. Please."

The word please from her mother's mouth was so rare, it made Isabella pause.

Reluctantly, she nodded.

They sat in a small corner café two blocks away from the office. Isabella kept her arms crossed the entire time, back ramrod straight.

Claudia removed her sunglasses, revealing eyes that were once sharp and calculating, but now seemed... tired.

"I didn't come to fight," she said gently. "I came because I made a mistake, and I need you to understand why."

Isabella said nothing.

Claudia sighed. "Your father... he didn't want you to know the truth. About me. About what really happened when I left."

"Oh, so now you're the victim?" Isabella snapped. "You left us, remember? You walked out on your daughter without a word. No letters. No calls."

"I was protecting you," Claudia said, her voice shaking. "Richard made me choose."

Isabella blinked. "What?"

"He gave me an ultimatum. Leave and take nothing, or stay silent and be a Sinclair trophy wife forever. I was having an affair, Bella. He found out. He said if I stayed, I'd never see you again. He would cut me off, erase me. He meant it."

Isabella stared at her, the confession landing like thunder.

"He told me you wanted nothing to do with me," Claudia whispered. "And I believed him. I thought you hated me."

"Because you gave me no reason not to," Isabella whispered back.

Claudia reached into her bag and pulled out a small, crumpled envelope. "I wrote. Every birthday. Every holiday. I never stopped. He must have... he must have destroyed them."

Isabella took the envelope with trembling hands. Inside were faded cards, each one dated, each one signed: Love, Mom.

Tears stung her eyes before she could stop them.

Claudia reached across the table. "I'm not asking you to forgive me. Just... to know the truth. And to let me help now."

"I don't need help," Isabella said, voice tight. "Not from you. Not anymore."

"I have connections. I can talk to some old friends, pull some strings, maybe get you a new position, one that's more suitable than playing assistant to a cold-hearted robot."

Isabella froze. "Don't you dare talk about Alexander like that."

Claudia raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what is he to you, exactly?"

"He's my boss."

"Right," Claudia said dryly, sipping her espresso. "Bosses don't usually send their assistants to retrieve childhood artifacts from secret warehouses. They also don't let pretty girls with no qualifications waltz into multi-million-dollar companies unless they're planning to... how shall I put this... invest personally?"

Isabella's cheeks flamed. "It's not like that."

Her mother's eyes softened. "Maybe not yet. But you're playing a dangerous game, darling. Don't lose yourself just to get back at the world."

"I'm not," Isabella snapped. "I'm fighting. I'm rebuilding. You may not recognize me, but I'm not some helpless girl anymore."

Claudia stood. "Good. Because the world doesn't wait for women like us. It eats us alive if we let it."

She placed a crisp business card on the table. "Call me if you change your mind."

And with that, she was gone, like smoke.

Isabella returned to the office late, rattled and emotionally drained.

The sun was setting outside the floor-to-ceiling windows when she knocked on Alexander's door.

He didn't look up. "You disappeared."

"I had a... family emergency."

His eyes flicked to her face. "You've been crying."

She straightened. "I'm fine. It won't affect my work."

Alexander studied her for a long moment. Then he rose from his chair and walked to the window, his back to her.

"Family has a way of unraveling even the strongest people," he said quietly. "Don't let them."

She stepped forward, emboldened. "You speak like you know that from experience."

"I do."

Silence settled between them. The city glowed beyond the glass, thousands of lights flickering like stars.

Then, without turning, he asked, "What did she want?"

"You knew who she was?"

He nodded once.

Isabella swallowed. "She claims my father forced her out. That he kept her away from me."

"Do you believe her?"

"I don't know what to believe anymore."

Alexander finally turned. "Good. That means you're starting to think for yourself."

She held his gaze, her pulse quickening.

He stepped closer, voice low. "Be careful, Isabella. Every move you make now... it shapes who you become. And this world? It doesn't care if you break."

Her breath caught.

But before she could say another word, his phone buzzed on the desk. He glanced at it, frowned, then looked at her.

"That's enough for today. Go home."

She wanted to ask what the message was. Who it was from. Why his expression darkened just slightly.

But she didn't.

She turned to leave.

And just as she reached the door, he said, "Isabella."

She stopped.

"I don't trust easily," he said, voice rough. "But you haven't disappointed me. Not yet."

She blinked.

And for a single moment, she felt something warm and unfamiliar bloom in her chest.

Hope

That night, as Isabella lay in bed staring at the ceiling, her phone lit up with a message she never expected.

Unknown Number:

"I know what your uncle did. You're not safe. He's watching you."