Chapter 18: Beneath the Surface

The atmosphere inside Alexander’s private jet was thick with tension. Isabella sat in one of the plush leather seats, her fingers gripping a steaming cup of tea Lara had handed her. The adrenaline from the masquerade was fading, leaving her muscles sore and her mind racing.

“You were almost compromised,” Alexander said sharply, pacing the narrow aisle. His crisp white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, his usual composure fraying at the edges.

“I handled it,” Isabella replied, her voice calm despite the turmoil brewing within her.

“You didn’t see the way Ryan looked at you,” Lara chimed in from her seat, typing furiously on her laptop. “He wasn’t fooled for a second. The man is practically a human lie detector.”

“I gathered useful information,” Isabella argued, meeting Alexander’s steely gaze. “Hathaway is key. He’s the one pulling strings for Ryan’s deals behind the scenes. If we can flip him—”

“Flipping Hathaway is a fantasy,” Alexander interrupted, his tone cold. “He’s more loyal to Ryan than anyone else. You’re playing with fire.”

The jet hummed softly as they soared through the clouds. Alexander eventually settled into a seat across from Isabella, his piercing gaze never leaving her face.

“Let’s debrief,” he said, his voice curt. “What exactly did you learn tonight?”

Isabella took a deep breath, her mind replaying the evening’s events. “Hathaway is Ryan’s second-in-command, but he’s not as untouchable as you think. Charles Warren mentioned a deal Hathaway is brokering—a risky one that’s causing tension among Ryan’s inner circle.”

Alexander leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “What kind of deal?”

“Something about acquiring a high-stakes project overseas,” Isabella replied. “Warren didn’t give specifics, but it’s big enough to make or break Ryan’s empire.”

“That could be our leverage,” Lara said, her eyes lighting up as she glanced at Alexander. “If we can expose the cracks in Ryan’s operations, we can force Hathaway to reconsider his loyalty.”

Alexander nodded, but his expression remained grim. “It’s a start. But we need more than rumors. We need hard evidence.”

As the conversation lulled, Isabella’s mind wandered to Ryan. His intense gaze, his calculated movements—it was as if he could see straight through her facade.

“I have an idea,” she said suddenly, drawing the attention of both Alexander and Lara.

“Let’s hear it,” Alexander said warily.

“I need to get closer to Ryan,” Isabella stated. “The masquerade wasn’t enough. If I can gain his trust, I can learn more about this deal—and maybe even find something we can use against him.”

Alexander’s eyes narrowed. “You’re suggesting going undercover again? That’s suicide. Ryan is already suspicious.”

“Which is exactly why he won’t expect me to approach him directly,” Isabella countered. “He thinks I’m a threat. If I make myself useful to him instead, I might be able to deflect his suspicion and dig deeper.”

“Or you’ll end up dead,” Alexander said bluntly.

Lara cleared her throat. “She has a point, though. Ryan’s ego could be his blind spot. If Isabella plays her cards right, he might let her in.”

Alexander exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “This is reckless.”

“It’s our best shot,” Isabella insisted. “You brought me into this because I’m willing to take risks. Let me do my job.”

After a long pause, Alexander finally nodded. “Fine. But we do this my way. No improvising, no heroics. Understood?”

“Understood,” Isabella said, her determination unwavering.

The next morning, Isabella stood in front of the mirror in her penthouse suite, preparing for her next move. She had discarded the elegant gown and golden mask in favor of a tailored black pantsuit that exuded confidence and authority. Her hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, her makeup sharp and minimal.

Lara entered the room, holding a manila folder. “Here’s your new identity: Isabella King, an independent consultant specializing in crisis management. You’ve been hired to help Ryan navigate the PR fallout from his recent scandals.”

“Convenient,” Isabella said, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Dangerous,” Lara corrected. “Ryan’s going to grill you. Be ready for anything.”

“I always am,” Isabella replied, slipping the folder into her briefcase.

Isabella arrived at Ryan’s towering office building, the sleek glass structure looming against the morning sky. As she stepped into the marble-floored lobby, she felt the familiar rush of adrenaline. This was her stage now, and she was ready to perform.

A sharp-dressed receptionist greeted her with a professional smile. “Miss King, Mr. Byrne is expecting you. Take the elevator to the 42nd floor.”

The elevator ride was smooth and silent, but Isabella’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. She rehearsed her lines, her strategies, her contingencies. When the doors slid open, she stepped into a hallway lined with modern art and understated luxury.

Ryan’s assistant, a sharp-eyed woman named Julia, greeted her. “Mr. Byrne will see you now.”

Isabella nodded and followed Julia into the office—a sprawling space with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city. Ryan stood by the window, his back to her, his hands clasped behind him.

“Miss King,” he said without turning around. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

“Mr. Byrne,” Isabella replied, her voice steady. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

Ryan turned to face her, his piercing blue eyes locking onto hers. “Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we? What do you really want?”

Isabella met his gaze head-on, her expression unreadable. “I want to help you, Mr. Byrne. And I think you’ll find I’m very good at what I do.”

Ryan smirked, but there was no warmth in it. “We’ll see about that.”