“Who?” I demanded. “Who’s spreading these rumors?”
“It’s hard to trace. But the timing, the specific details being leaked—it has Selene’s fingerprints all over it. And Ethan’s resources behind it.”
I clenched my fists so hard my nails bit into my palms. “They bullied me. Five years ago, they destroyed me, ripped me apart, made me feel like I was nothing. Like I deserved every horrible thing they said and did.” My voice shook with fury. “But I will be damned if I let them do the same thing to Adele. She’s innocent. She’s a child. And nobody—nobody—gets to hurt her like they hurt me.”
Edmund was quiet for a moment. Then he smiled, wistful and sad. “You remind me of your mother.”
I blinked, thrown by the sudden change in topic.
“She had that same fire. That same fierce protectiveness. That same refusal to back down when people she loved were threatened.”
“You…you knew my mother?”
“Asher was my best friend,” Edmund said simply. “I knew him better than anyone. I knew how unhappy he was with Maia. How trapped he felt in a Mate bond that was supposed to be sacred but felt more like a cage.” He turned back to me. “And I knew Alicia. I saw what she and Asher had together. Real love. The kind that doesn’t come around often.”
My throat felt tight. “I didn’t know.”
“Not many people did. Asher kept it quiet, tried to protect her from the fallout. But I knew. And I saw how happyshe made him.” Edmund’s smile turned sad. “You have her spirit, Isabella. Her kindness. Her strength. That’s what drew Asher to her in the first place. And that’s what draws Dimitri to you.”
The car slowed, pulling up in front of my building as the driver announced we’d arrived.
Edmund turned to me again. “Isabella, I know Dimitri hurt you, but I assure you, he’s spent the last five years being utterly miserable. I hope one day you can forgive and trust him competently.”
I mustered a small smile. “Thank you for the ride, Edmund.”
I opened the door and stepped out, still processing everything he’d told me. The car drove away, leaving me standing on the sidewalk with more questions than answers and a heart that felt too full and too broken all at once.
When I arrived home,the warm glow of the living room lights welcomed me. Adele and Sarah were curled up on the couch watching some animated movie, but the moment Adele spotted me, she launched herself off the cushions.
“Mommy!” She crashed into my legs with the full force of her four-year-old enthusiasm, nearly knocking me over. “You’re home! We missed you!”
I scooped her up, breathing in her familiar scent. “I missed you, too, baby. Were you good for Sarah?”
“So good! We colored and played dress up.
“That’s good, baby.” I kissed her nose. “But first, are you hungry?”
As if on cue, my eyes landed on the dining table. Dimitri had ordered from Golden Palace—Adele’s favorite Chinese restaurant. I could see the telltale white containers, still warm, arranged neatly on placemats. Orange chicken, fried rice, egg rolls, and even the crab Rangoon that Adele loved to fight me over.
“Dimitri sent dinner!” Adele wriggled to get down. “Can we eat now? Please? We’ve been waiting for you. I’m starving!”
I set her down, watching her race toward the table with Sarah following at a more sedate pace.
We ate dinner, Adele’s usual chatter brightening my dull mood. After bidding Sarah goodbye, I tucked Adele into bed. Once I’d triple-checked the new security measures, I sat at the kitchen table with my laptop and phone and started making moves.
First: the rumors about Adele. I couldn’t let those stand.
I called in favors from tech specialists I’d worked with at Crane Internationale. Within hours, articles and social media posts mentioning Adele started disappearing. Search results were scrubbed. Images were removed. It wasn’t perfect—nothing on the internet ever truly disappeared—but it was enough to suppress the worst of it. To make it harder for people to find and spread.
Second: the board.
I pulled up the list of Ravencrest Global board members and started making calls. Some were receptive. A few had questions about the attacks, about my intentions, about whether I was truly committed to the company’s success. I answered honestly when I could, strategically when I couldn’t.
For the ones who weren’t receptive, who were clearly in Ethan and Selene’s pocket, I took a different approach. If there was anyone who could help, it was Crane.
So, I picked up my phone and dialed him.
He picked up almost immediately. “Isabella,” he said in that business tone that suggested he was in a meeting. “You have impeccable timing. I was in a meeting, but—well, they can wait.”
