Chapter 5 - Unearthing the Truth
By 8:00 AM, Isabelle was sitting in the sunlit breakfast nook of the main mansion. The kitchen was massive and state-of-the-art, yet it felt warm and lived-in, filled with the sweet aroma of maple syrup and coffee.
The twins sat across from her, chatterboxes full of endless questions about everything from her favorite color to whether she knew how to draw unicorns. Thomas stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with practiced ease, dressed in a comfortable navy sweater and trousers, looking greatly different from the stern corporate titan he had been the night before.
"Daddy says you're going to work at his big building, " Sophia said, kicking her small feet against her chair legs. "Does that mean you're staying in the little house? "
Isabelle looked up at Thomas, who turned around holding a platter of golden pancakes. "I'm staying for a little while, sweetheart, " Isabelle replied carefully. "To help your dad with some very important work. "
"Good, " Olivia declared, nodding firmly. "Because Daddy is terrible at drawing unicorns, and we need help with our art project for pre-school. "
Thomas gasped, placing the platter on the table. "I do my best, Olivia. My unicorns just look more like muscular horses with party hats. "
Isabelle laughed out loud—a bright, clear sound that made Thomas pause for a second, catching her eye with a warm glance before sitting down.
An hour later, a sleek black sedan pulled up to the main entrance. Thomas's chief of security, a broad-shouldered, quiet man named Miller, was at the wheel.
"Miller will drive you upstate to your grandmother's house, " Thomas insisted as he handed Isabelle a brand-new smartphone and a sleek leather coat he had ordered for her that morning. "The drive takes two hours. Retrieve the flash drive, call me immediately when you have it in your hands, and don't make any stops. "
Isabelle accepted the phone, marveling at how quickly Thomas moved when he decided to execute a plan. "What about Richard? Is he still coming to your office on Monday? "
"Yes, " Thomas's eyes turned cold as steel. "And when he arrives expecting to sign a fifty-million-dollar funding agreement, we will present him with his own arrest warrant. "
The drive upstate was quiet and serene. Winter sunlight glinted off the snow-covered pine trees along the highway. Isabelle sat in the back seat of the luxurious car, looking down at her clean hands, feeling her sense of identity returning piece by piece. She was no longer a ghost on platform 7; she was a woman on a mission to reclaim her life.
They reached the small town of Pine Ridge around 11:00 AM. Her grandmother's cottage stood at the end of a quiet lane, shuttered and empty since her passing two years ago. The lawn was covered in knee-deep snow.
Isabelle guided Miller to the backyard, where an old stone birdbath stood near a towering oak tree. Armed with a small shovel Miller produced from the trunk, Isabelle cleared the snow around the base of the birdbath and began digging into the frozen earth beneath a flat flagstone.
After ten minutes of careful digging, her shovel struck something hard and metallic.
She knelt in the snow, pulling out a sealed waterproof steel lockbox. Her hands trembled as she punched in her childhood birthdate on the three-digit mechanical lock.
Access.
The lid popped open. Inside, wrapped in thick oilcloth, lay a small silver flash drive alongside her original hand-drawn drafting notebooks and a backup ledger of Vance Development's internal emails from the month she was framed.
"Got it, " Isabelle whispered, holding the drive tightly against her chest as tears of relief spilled over her cheeks.
"Miss Hayes, " Miller's voice suddenly rang out, sharp and tense from the front of the cottage. "We have company. "
Isabelle snaps the lockbox shut, standing up rapidly. "Who is it? "
Before Miller could answer, the sound of heavy boots crunching on the snow echoed from the side of the house. Two men in dark coats stepped into the backyard.
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And standing right behind them was Richard Vance himself, dressed in a designer camel-hair coat, a cruel, mocking smile playing across his handsome face.
"Well, well, well, " Richard said smoothly, adjusting his leather gloves. "I had my men monitoring your grandmother's property just in case you ever decided to come back, Isabelle. I must admit, I didn't expect you to look so well-fed. I heard rumors you were begging at the train station. "
