PART TWO: THE RESCUE

Isabella arrived at the V&A Museum looking like an avenging angel. She wore a backless floor-length gown of liquid silver silk that clung to every curve, paired with a bold dark red lip. As she walked up the grand stone steps, cameras flashed, paparazzi shouting her name. She kept her head high, projecting an aura of untouchable confidence.

Inside, the museum had been transformed into a wonderland of crystal chandeliers and trailing white orchids. Waiters in white ties circulated with trays of Dom Pérignon. Isabella grabbed a flute and navigated the room, ignoring the whispers that rippled through the crowd as she passed.

She needed to find Lord Henry Cavendish, a venture capitalist who hated Declan. If she could get his backing for a new venture, she could rival Aura.

As she rounded a towering marble statue of Neptune, she was suddenly forced to step backward to avoid a waiter carrying a towering tray of oysters. In doing so, her stiletto caught the hem of her gown. She braced for a humiliating fall.

But a hand shot out, gripping her waist with startling strength.

Careful, a deep, resonant voice murmured, pulling her upright.

Isabella caught her breath, looking up. The man holding her was striking. He had sharp aristocratic features, a jawline that looked cut from granite, and eyes the color of a stormy Atlantic sea. He was dressed in a flawlessly tailored Tom Ford tuxedo that spoke of quiet, unfathomable wealth. There was an air of absolute authority about him, a stillness that only comes from men who are used to the world bending to their will.

Thank you, Isabella breathed, stepping back, though she instantly missed the warmth of his hand. I should look where I’m going.

Or the world should simply learn to get out of your way, the stranger replied smoothly, his gaze flicking over her, an appreciative glint in his storm-gray eyes. You’re Isabella Dubois.

Isabella tensed. And you are?

Someone who knows that the official press release regarding your departure from Aura Dynamics is utter fiction, he said, taking a sip of his scotch. A brilliant mind doesn’t simply step down days before a major acquisition. You were pushed.

Isabella narrowed her eyes, assessing him. You seem to know a lot about a company you don’t work for, Mister…?

Just Nate. He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. And I make it my business to know everything about investments that cross my desk. Declan Hayes submitted a pitch deck to my firm yesterday. He wants me to underwrite the Vanguard acquisition.

Isabella’s heart hammered against her ribs. If Declan needed underwriters, he was cash-poor. The hostile takeover had strained Aura’s liquid assets.

If you’re smart, Nate, you’ll throw that pitch deck in the fire. Declan is a salesman. Without my architectural oversight on the mainframe, the AI core will degrade within six months.

I know, Nate said softly, stepping closer. The air between them suddenly crackled with a strange magnetic tension. Which is why I rejected his proposal this morning.

Isabella blinked, stunned. You did?

I don’t invest in thieves, Miss Dubois. I invest in genius. He looked at her with a terrifying intensity. And right now I see a genius who’s looking for a way to sever the head of the snake that bit her.

Before Isabella could process the weight of his words, a sickeningly familiar laugh echoed behind her.

Well, well. If it isn’t the ghost of Aura.

Isabella didn’t need to turn around to know it was Declan. She slowly pivoted, her expression hardening into a mask of pure ice. Declan stood there in a velvet dinner jacket, an arrogant smirk plastered across his face. Clinging to his arm was Sabrina, dripping in diamonds that Isabella recognized. They were the very stones Declan had purchased for Isabella’s wedding tiara.

The audacity of it made Isabella’s stomach churn, but she refused to let them see her bleed.

Declan. Sabrina. Isabella acknowledged them with a curt nod. I see you’re wearing my discarded jewelry, Sabrina. Fitting, considering you’ve made a habit of taking my hand-me-downs.

Sabrina’s smug smile faltered, her face flushing an angry crimson. You always were a bitter woman, Isabella. It’s why Declan couldn’t stand being trapped with you anymore. You’re obsessed with your computer screens while real life happens around you.

Real life? Isabella raised an eyebrow. Is that what we’re calling corporate espionage and adultery these days? How quaint.

Declan stepped forward, attempting to loom over her, his charm replaced by a venomous sneer. You shouldn’t be here, Viv. This is a room for players, not washed-up coders who lost their own companies. Security will likely escort you out if I say the word. You’re making a fool of yourself.

The only fool in this room is the man who thinks he can run a machine he doesn’t know how to build, Isabella countered flawlessly, though her pulse was racing. She was entirely alone. Declan had the power, the money, and the societal backing.

Big words from a woman who has absolutely nothing left, Declan laughed coldly. Your accounts are frozen. Your equity is gone. You are officially nobody, Isabella.

She is far from nobody, Hayes.

The deep commanding voice sliced through Declan’s laughter like a broadsword. Nate stepped out from the shadows of the marble statue, positioning himself deliberately at Isabella’s side. He didn’t raise his voice, but the sheer gravity of his presence made Declan instinctively take a step back.

Declan’s eyes widened as he finally registered the man standing next to his ex-fiancée. The blood rapidly drained from his face, leaving him pale and stammering.

Your, Your Grace. I didn’t see you standing there.

Your Grace? Isabella’s head whipped toward Nate, her mind racing.

Clearly, Nate said, his tone dripping with aristocratic disdain. Though I suppose vision was never your strong suit, considering you’ve just blinded yourself to the greatest asset your company ever possessed.

Sabrina looked panicked, whispering frantically to Declan. Who is he?

Declan looked like he might be sick. It’s Nathaniel St. James, he hissed under his breath, though Isabella heard every word. The Duke of Pembroke. He’s the primary stakeholder of Vanguard Holdings.

Isabella felt the floor tilt beneath her. Nate. Vanguard Holdings. He wasn’t just a venture capitalist. He was the buyer Declan was desperately trying to sell Aura Dynamics to. He was royalty. He was one of the wealthiest men in the United Kingdom, holding the fate of Declan’s entire future in his hands.

Nathaniel smoothly wrapped a possessive, protective arm around Isabella’s waist, pulling her flush against his side. The heat of his body radiated through the thin silk of her dress.

I believe introductions are in order, though you seem to know who I am, Nathaniel said, his eyes locked onto Declan like a predator eyeing a wounded gazelle. What you don’t know is that Isabella and I have entered into an exclusive partnership. Both professionally and personally.

Isabella gasped softly, but Nathaniel’s hand squeezed her waist in a silent command to play along.

Declan’s jaw practically hit the marble floor. Personally? But she was just engaged to me.

A temporary lapse in judgment on her part. Fortunately, she realized her worth before she legally tied herself to a sinking ship, Nathaniel replied, his voice a lethal purr. I have officially withdrawn Vanguard’s offer to acquire Aura Dynamics. We are no longer interested.

Sabrina let out a strangled cry. You can’t do that. We have a verbal agreement. The board is expecting the buyout.

I can do whatever I please, Miss Croft. And what pleases me is utterly destroying anyone who disrespects my fiancee.

Nathaniel spoke the word fiancee with such smooth conviction that even Isabella almost believed him.

Declan was hyperventilating, his entire corporate empire crumbling in the span of sixty seconds. Without the Vanguard buyout, Aura’s debts would swallow them whole.

Your Grace, please. Let’s discuss this in a boardroom. Isabella is unstable. She’s manipulating you.

If you speak another word against my future wife, Hayes, I will personally ensure you are blacklisted from every bank from London to Tokyo. You will not be able to finance a cup of coffee, let alone a tech firm. Nathaniel’s eyes were devoid of mercy. Now get out of my sight.

Declan and Sabrina stood frozen in utter humiliation as whispers from the surrounding elite began to swell. The room had watched the exchange. The destruction of Declan Hayes was now a public spectacle. Unable to bear the crushing weight of Nathaniel’s stare, Declan grabbed Sabrina by the arm and practically fled toward the museum exits.

Isabella stood trembling, her heart beating a frantic rhythm against her rib cage. She looked up at the towering Duke beside her.

Fiancee, she whispered, her voice barely audible over the roaring in her ears.

Nathaniel looked down at her, the cold fury in his eyes melting into something dangerously warm and undeniably alluring. You needed a miracle, Isabella, and I needed a partner who can build the world’s most advanced AI for my private intelligence firm. We are going to destroy Declan Hayes, and we are going to make a fortune doing it.

He gently lifted her chin, his thumb brushing across her lower lip. But to convince the world and the markets, we have to make them believe we are madly in love. Tell me, Miss Dubois, do you know how to act?

Isabella looked into the eyes of the royal billionaire, feeling the spark of an inferno igniting within her. For the right price, Your Grace, I can put on the performance of a lifetime.

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