Chapter 26

Benjamin Hayes wasn't prepared for her immediate agreement.

Isabella Sinclair extended her hand. "Thank you for everything these past years."

Still stunned, Benjamin shook it reflexively. "It was nothing."

Then, without hesitation, Isabella gathered her belongings and walked out.

He stared after her, unable to process what had just happened.

Daniel Prescott nudged him. "Earth to Ben?"

"Isabella just resigned."

Daniel blinked. "Seriously?"

He scoffed. "She'll be back. Probably running to Mrs. Whitmore for help within the week."

Benjamin stayed silent. But something about Isabella's demeanor lately made him think otherwise.

Isabella went straight home. No calls came from Sophia Whitmore—no doubt preoccupied with Victoria Kensington.

Late that night, Emily Donovan spiked a fever.

Isabella snapped her book shut, grabbed her keys, and rushed out.

Rain poured relentlessly, the streets nearly empty in the old district.

She stopped at a pharmacy near Emily's place. As she got back into her car, the passenger door swung open.

A masked figure slid inside, pressing a gun to her ribs.

"Don't move."

His voice was ice. The hat shadowed his face, but his gaze cut like a blade.

Isabella lifted her hands slightly.

He took her purse and phone. "Drive me where I need to go, and you walk away unharmed."

Before she could respond, he snapped, "Now."

The deserted street offered no help. The metallic tang of blood hit her—strong, fresh.

She started the engine. "Where?"

"Maplewood Docks. I'll direct you."

"No need. I know it."

The drive passed in tense silence, his gun never wavering.

Thirty minutes later, she pulled under a tree as instructed.

He exited swiftly but hesitated when she spoke.

"I have medical supplies."

The blood scent had worsened during the drive.

Ignoring her, he vanished into the night.

Isabella didn't press it. She turned the car around and left.

Minutes later, Julian Montgomery boarded a waiting boat.

He removed his mask as his phone rang. While someone tended his wound, he answered.

Oliver Westbrook's frantic voice crackled through. "Julian! My men lost you—where the hell are you?"

"Maplewood. Minor detour."

"Christ, you scared me half to death!"

After a clipped exchange, Julian hung up, staring at the distant tree with an unreadable expression.

Isabella returned to Emily's apartment.

Medicated and fed, Emily frowned. "Why do I smell blood?"

"Not mine."

The stranger's blood had smeared her belongings. She'd cleaned it—mostly.