"AHHHHH—!!!"
His screams filled the room as he convulsed violently, chains clanking.
"I'll ask again. Who arranged it?"
"It was... Isabella..." he babbled deliriously. "She said... Noelle wanted to see me... said she had a surprise for me..."
My hand froze.
"What did you say?"
"It was... Isabella..." he repeated incoherently.
"Speak clearly." I leaned in closer.
"She... called five days ago... said Noelle missed me... told me to come to Rittenhouse..." His words came in broken gasps. "She said... everything was arranged..."
"And then?"
"I went... wanted to take her away... but she kept refusing... begging me not to do anything stupid..."
I suddenly recalled the scene at the restaurant—Noelle had indeed been struggling, looking terrified, constantly trying to push him away...
"But Isabella said..." he mumbled, "she said Noelle was refusing with her words... but really wanted to see me... said women always say the opposite of what they mean..."
Fuck.
The pliers clattered to the floor.
Dmitri approached me. "Boss?"
"Have the doctor treat his wounds," I turned and strode out. "Don't let him die. I still have use for him."
"Yes."
Racing through the corridor, I went straight to my study and yanked out the stack of investigation reports on Isabella from the drawer.
I flipped through page after page. Nanny testimonies, jewelry store records, hospital documentation, shopkeeper identifications—every piece of evidence was flawlessly airtight.
Too flawless.
I suddenly remembered that after my meeting with Kieran, I'd ordered Dmitri to increase surveillance and intelligence gathering around the manor perimeter. Isabella's visits had been so frequent, and after each one, something unpleasant invariably occurredbetween Noelle and me. Especially this "surprise" she'd arranged—it had nearly obliterated Noelle's last foothold in my heart.
Then there were Mother's and Anya's warnings—stay away from that woman. She was too perfect, perfect to the point of being unreal.
Yet the evidence before me indicated she was my savior. Someone who'd extended help in my hour of need should harbor good intentions.
But what if... she wasn't that person at all?
"Damn it!" I slammed my fist on the desk.
I grabbed the phone and dialed Dmitri.
"Reinvestigate Isabella Vance. Bypass all witnesses she provided, avoid any leads that could have been compromised. Start from the beginning—where exactly was she that Christmas Eve three years ago?"
"But the previous investigation..."
"Do it over!" I bit out. "Check if she has any connections to Kieran."
