Chapter 3 The Boardroom Trap

Isabella arrived at Vaughn Group headquarters the next morning dressed like a declaration.

A sharp-cut black suit, blood-red blouse, gold accents-quiet power in every line. Her heels clicked against the marble floors like a drumbeat of warning. The receptionist faltered when she saw her, blinking as if she were seeing a ghost.

"Miss Vaughn-uh, welcome," the woman stammered. "Do you-do you have an appointment?"

"I'm on the board," Isabella said smoothly. "I don't need one."

She didn't stop to explain. Let Celeste hear about it later.

She took the private elevator to the top floor. As the doors opened, a dozen heads turned in the glass-walled conference room. Eyes widened. One man dropped his pen. Another whispered something to the woman beside him.

Isabella stepped inside like she belonged there. Because she did.

At the head of the table sat Celeste, her posture graceful, her expression unreadable. She rose slowly.

"Sister," she said, as if this were a social call.

"Don't worry," Isabella replied. "I won't stay long. I just wanted to remind everyone I'm still alive-and still a Vaughn."

Celeste motioned to a seat. "You're just in time. We were about to review the quarterly report."

"I'm not here for spreadsheets." Isabella's gaze swept across the table. "I'm here to observe. For now."

One of the older board members-Mr. Keating-cleared his throat. "We weren't expecting you, Isabella."

"Which was a mistake," she said, folding her arms. "But one I'm willing to overlook."

A ripple of nervous chuckles circled the table. Celeste, however, didn't flinch.

"I'm sure we can catch you up," Celeste said calmly. "But let's not derail the meeting. Shall we?"

The room obeyed. Reports resumed. Numbers were projected. But Isabella barely heard them. Her eyes were on Celeste.

She was good-very good. Flawless delivery, firm tone, charismatic leadership. Every word that came out of her mouth was polished and purposeful. The board adored her.

And yet-

There was something brittle behind the way she held herself. Something a little too poised. A little too rehearsed.

Isabella filed that away.

At the end of the meeting, Celeste stood again. "Before we adjourn, I'd like to share some good news," she said. "Vaughn Group is finalizing a merger with Blackstone Holdings. A major step forward. Our father would be proud."

The room broke into soft applause.

Isabella didn't clap.

Celeste looked at her. "Something to say?"

"Just wondering when you planned to tell your co-chair," Isabella replied, voice calm but cutting. "Or have you rewritten the company bylaws in my absence?"

Celeste's smile tightened. "You left, Isabella."

"And yet, my name is still on every document with legal weight."

A few board members shifted uncomfortably. Mr. Keating coughed.

"I'll send you the paperwork," Celeste said. "We'll make sure you're included from now on."

"How generous," Isabella replied.

Celeste walked over, lowering her voice as she leaned in. "If you think showing up in a designer suit and throwing around old titles will get you control again, you're mistaken."

"Who said I want control?" Isabella whispered back. "Maybe I just want to watch you squirm."

Celeste's eyes darkened, but she turned with a smile to the rest of the room. "Meeting adjourned."

People began filing out, whispering as they passed Isabella.

She waited until they were alone. Just the two of them, and the tension that had grown thick in the silence.

"You always did like making scenes," Celeste said.

"And you always liked playing innocent."

"I'm not the villain here, Isabella."

"Then prove it," Isabella said. "Open Dad's study."

That hit its mark.

Celeste's expression froze for half a second-enough.

"It's sealed for legal reasons," she said.

"Convenient."

Celeste stepped closer. "You weren't here when he died. You weren't here for the funeral. For the aftermath. You ran. I cleaned up the mess."

"I ran because I knew if I stayed, I'd never survive what came next," Isabella said, her voice low. "But I'm here now. And I'm not leaving until I know everything."

They stood inches apart, mirror images of power and pride.

Then Celeste turned, adjusting her blazer. "Be careful, Isabella. You're walking into something you don't understand."

Isabella raised an eyebrow. "Then educate me."

But Celeste didn't answer. She just walked away.

And this time, Isabella let her go.

Because she'd seen what she needed to-

fear.

It was buried deep in Celeste's eyes.

And that meant Isabella was getting closer.