Part 15:

Isabella turned her back to him so he wouldn’t catch the smile pulling at her own mouth. He tipped his head toward the door, that cold amusement still on him. After you, Anita. From this second on, you don’t leave my sight. Not once. As she started walking, Os leaned in close to Tony.

How long has she been gone? Tony checked the time, jaw tight. 3 hours, give or take. Aos watched Isabella all the way to the door before he answered. Find the girl. Check the rocks. Isabella had one hand on the door, about to step inside when a van rolled up to the iron gates. OS and Tony both turned, eyes narrowing against the light.

White panel painted letters along the side. All creme Bakery. Aeros waved the men at the gate to let it through. The van eased to a stop a few feet from him and Tony. Isabella’s fingers locked around the door handle. Oh, no. Please, no. A middle-aged man climbed out, round-faced and cheerful, balancing an enormous cake box in both arms. He looked from Tony to OS, a little thrown by the men posted around the drive.

Good morning, sir. Delivery from Allah creme. He hefted the box, working a smile past the guns at the gate. Miss Vela placed the order. Birthday cake for Miss Ki. Isabella ducked inside, but she couldn’t make herself move past the threshold. She pressed close to the gap and watched her heart slamming against her ribs.

That cake was about to say her name out loud. Aeros glanced back at the doorway she’d just vanished into. Something sharpening behind his eyes. Then he turned to the baker and put out a hand easy and pleasant. I can take that. The man handed it over, happy to be rid of the weight.

We did the gold lettering just like she asked. Sir Isabella Kiy, he beamed. And gluten-free. Exactly as requested. She’s going to love it. Gold letters, OS repeated softly. A smile touched his mouth and went no deeper. How thoughtful. The baker’s smile thinned, his eyes ticking from OS to Tony and back. Is Miss Vela here? She usually signs for the delivery.

She stepped out. Os shifted the weight against his chest like it was nothing, his gaze drifting back to the dark of the doorway. I’ll see that it gets to her. He carried it inside, slow, in no hurry at all, and Isabella, frozen halfway up the stairs, felt him coming before she heard him. His voice reached her from below, low and easy.

Anita, the sound of it slid down her spine. She gripped the banister and didn’t turn. Isabella’s birthday cake just came. There was something almost gentle in the way it came out, which was exactly what made it land wrong. The baker was asking for you. She stopped on the step. The color had already gone out of her face.

I didn’t see it come in. The words came out thin, barely steady. Tony caught up to him in the hall, glancing back at the van. When do we head to the new house, boss? And Miss Kiy, you want the men to keep searching the rocks? Aeros watched Isabella climb slow, each step landing heavier than the one before. “Put three men on Isabella Conti.

They can search as long as they like.” He turned toward the cars waiting in the drive. “We’ll go ahead.” Tony’s brows pulled together. “We’re not going to look for her ourselves.” Aeros’s eyes stayed on Isabella, still climbing, her hand white on the banister. “No need.” He pushed the box back into Tony’s hands and lifted his voice just enough to reach her.

And Tony, bring the cake. His mouth curved, watching her back go rigid at the words. It would be rude to waste a birthday. Isabella took the stairs fast and slipped into her own room first, pulling a dress from the closet and grabbing what she needed underneath. Then she started across the hall toward Anita’s room, the maid’s room, the one no one would question her using.

She was halfway across the landing when OS came up the stairs and caught her midstride. She went still for a second, caught running again, and made herself keep walking like she had every reason to. Don’t go getting lost in those tunnels again. Anita, his voice trailed her down the hall, lazy and in no hurry at all.

This time I’ll block the exit and leave you down there to argue with the stone. The smile he was holding back lived at the corner of his mouth. troublemaker. She didn’t slow down. She pushed inside, shut the door, and let herself breathe. In here, being Anita still made sense. She’d shower and change where no one would think to wonder why.

At the far end of the corridor, OS stepped into Veto Ki’s bedroom. Huge, cold, expensive, every surface arranged like a place no one was meant to actually live in. He moved through it without hurry, opening drawers, checking the desk, the wardrobe, looking less for clothes than for the kind of man who’d slept here.

Ledgers, watches, keys, old papers. Not one photograph of the daughter, Veto Ki paraded to the world as his pride, not on the dresser, not by the bed, not tucked into a single drawer. OS’s hand came to rest on the edge of the wardrobe, a father who kept no picture of his only child. He filed it away, quiet, the way he kept every detail that didn’t add up.

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