Chapter 502

No.1

…

Isabella arrived at her penthouse. She changed into soft, comfortable clothes, tossing the borrowed white shirt into the wastebin without a second thought.

The sharp ring of her private phone sliced through the silence.

She answered. Harrison Winslow’s voice, usually so composed, was ragged with panic. “My lady! Are you unharmed? Why did you return there? It was secure here! And why dismiss Maxwell and his team? My heart stopped when I received the report of the… incident! That vile woman paid those men… I will make her suffer for this immediately!”

Few knew the truth. The past five years had forged Isabella into a force. Her accomplishments were her own, earning her a formidable reputation and powerful, loyal allies across the globe. She never asked for aid, yet it was perpetually offered.

She held the phone with her shoulder. “Stand down, Harrison. Relay this message: I am handling a personal matter. I am not to be disturbed.”

“But… are you certain?” His worry was palpable.

A cold, confident laugh escaped her. “If I doubted my ability to settle this, I would never have come back.”

She ended the call.

No.2

Harrison could only sigh in resignation and do as he was told.

Isabella opened her secure laptop, accessing a private server. A new, unread email flagged her attention. She clicked it.

The contents made her breath catch. Screenshots. Detailed conversations between Victoria and the driver. The entire murder plot, laid bare in text. Financial records showing a transfer from a discreet offshore account directly to the driver. And finally, a video file—clear footage of the orchestrated “accident.” It was a prosecutor’s dream. Enough to bury Victoria forever.

Who? Who could have assembled this damning dossier so quickly? And sent it to her, anonymously?

Her first assumption was an ally, a powerful contact seeking to curry favor. She checked the sender’s information.

Nathaniel Blackwood.

Her brow furrowed. Why? After her blatant, humiliating rejection, why would he provide this? The man’s resources were staggering. His motives, utterly perplexing.

But she was no fool. A gift horse required no dental exam. She saved every file, a dangerous, calculating glint igniting in her dark eyes. The game had just changed.

…

No.3

Meanwhile, in a lavishly over-decorated bedroom within the Montgomery manor…

Victoria Kensington sat at her vanity, idly brushing the hair of an expensive porcelain doll. A smug, victorious smile played on her lips. There was no way Isabella survived that cliff unscathed. At best, she was permanently maimed. Once she was vulnerable in a hospital bed, finishing the job and claiming her 15% stake would be simple.

With a sudden, vicious motion, Victoria ripped the doll’s head clean off.

Ding.

A notification chimed on her encrypted phone.

Annoyed, she picked it up. An anonymous email. She opened it.

All color drained from her face. Her features contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated terror.

The email contained her entire conversation with the driver.

How? How was this possible? She’d used a burner phone! The payment was routed through an untraceable shell account! It was a perfect, foolproof plan!

No.4

Trembling uncontrollably, she forced her fingers to type a reply, trying to project a facade of calm.

[Who is this? State your price. Name any amount.]

Rage and fear twisted Victoria’s beautiful features into something ugly.

Who could it be?

She typed furiously. [Impossible. I will pay you whatever you want. Remember, I am the Montgomery heiress. You do not want me as an enemy. Cooperate, and your reward will be substantial.]

The reply was instant and merciless. [Nine minutes.]

Victoria’s blood ran cold. She was trapped.

Isabella’s knuckles turned white as she gripped her phone.

She immediately dialed her manager, Gabriella Martinez.

No.5

“Find out who sent that anonymous email,” she demanded. “I want their identity within five minutes.”

Isabella was certain she could pressure this person into backing down once she uncovered their details.

No one crossed her and got away with it.

But…

Five minutes later, Gabriella called back with disappointing news.

“I’m sorry, Isabella. I contacted the top hacker available and used every resource we have. We still couldn’t trace the sender’s IP address.”

“How is that possible?” Isabella’s voice rose sharply, fear taking over. “We have the best team money can buy! How can we fail to crack a simple anonymous IP?”

As the world’s top supermodel, she had access to elite resources and powerful connections. This shouldn’t be happening.

“The hacker is too skilled. Our team’s best couldn’t penetrate their defenses. Isabella, maybe we need another strategy to keep this quiet. If this gets out, your career is over,” Gabriella reasoned, sighing heavily.

No.6

Isabella collapsed onto her bed in shock. Gabriella was her most trusted manager and assistant. If even she couldn’t help, no one could.

What options did she have? Hold a press conference and confess? That would be just as damaging as the screenshots going public. Send nudes instead? Her reputation would still be ruined.

Another email arrived.

[Three minutes left.]

Attached was a screenshot of a drafted Weibo post.

[Supermodel Victoria Kensington paid to have her sister murdered!]

Isabella’s face went pale. Her hands trembled uncontrollably.

If this were exposed, it would make global headlines. She could end up in prison.

[Don’t post it. Wait. I’ll send the photos now.]

No.7

She had no choice. She rushed into her bathroom, even grabbing the cucumber she used for her eye mask.

As much as she hated this humiliating act, she saw no other way. The sender was probably some obsessed fan wanting to amuse himself with her photos.

Even if her nudes leaked, she could claim they were doctored. She might even gain more male fans. This outcome was far better than prison.

Biting her lip, Isabella took the photos.

…

At Rosewood Manor…

Isabella sat cross-legged before her computer, sipping wine.

“Three, two, one.”