Isabella's heels clicked against the marble floor of what was now her office. Six months as CEO of Sterling Industries had transformed her. The board members who'd once dismissed her now parted like water when she walked through the halls.
Power was a curious thing. She understood Alexander better now.
"Ms. Whittaker," her assistant said from the doorway. "Dr. Levine is here to see you."
Isabella nodded, setting aside the quarterly reports. "Send her in."
Marina Levine entered with the quiet confidence of a woman who had nothing left to lose. Her laboratory had been destroyed, her research confiscated, and her name dragged through scientific circles as a cautionary tale. Yet here she was, her spine straight, her eyes clear.
"You're looking well," Marina said, taking a seat across from Isabella. "The role of corporate tyrant suits you."
Isabella smiled thinly. "I prefer 'reformer.' Sterling Industries is clean now. No more secret labs. No more experiments."
"No more Blackwood," Marina agreed. She slid a tablet across the desk. "Which is why I found this... concerning."
Isabella's blood ran cold as she studied the images. A facility nestled in the Alps. Swiss jurisdiction. Minimal security but state-of-the-art equipment. And at the center of it all, surveillance photos of a familiar face.
Alexander.
"How did you get these?" Isabella asked, her voice carefully controlled.
"Evelyn Sterling may have disappeared publicly, but she still has eyes everywhere." Marina leaned forward. "He's rebuilding, Isabella. Starting over."
Isabella's fingers tightened around the tablet. Alexander looked different—thinner, harder, his eyes burning with something that wasn't quite sanity. The modifications were progressing. Destabilizing.
"What about Claire?" she asked. "And Thomas?"
Marina's expression softened slightly. "Safe. For now. The counter agent worked—Thomas is developing normally. But..." She hesitated. "Claire's worried. She thinks Alexander is looking for them."
"He is." Isabella closed her eyes briefly. "He's obsessed with legacy. With possession. He won't stop until he has his son back."
Marina studied her face. "You've kept tabs on him."
It wasn't a question. Isabella didn't bother denying it. The silver ring on her finger—Alexander's ring—was more than just a symbol. It was a tracker. A connection.
"I need to know where he is," Isabella said simply. "So I can stay one step ahead."
"And how's that working for you?"
Isabella's smile was brittle. "I'm still alive."
Marina nodded toward the tablet. "Not for long if he succeeds. That facility isn't just for research. It's for manufacturing. The silver substance you found in Edward's private lab? Alexander's perfected it. He's calling it 'Sterling Silver.' A neural enhancer that makes Blackwood look primitive."
Isabella's chest tightened. "What does it do?"
"Increases cognitive function. Enhances physical capabilities. Creates a heightened suggestibility in the subject." Marina's voice was clinical, detached. "Perfect for creating an army of enhanced humans who are completely loyal to their creator."
"Or for controlling a child with unique genetic modifications," Isabella murmured, thinking of Thomas.
Marina nodded grimly. "Alexander needs to be stopped. Permanently this time."
Isabella rose, moving to the window that overlooked the Manhattan skyline. Sterling Industries had been her obsession for months—dismantling Edward's shadow empire, building something legitimate from the ashes. She'd told herself it was about justice. About righting wrongs.
But standing here, feeling the weight of Alexander's ring on her finger, she knew the truth. It had always been about him. About staying connected to him, even as she claimed to destroy his legacy.
"I'll handle Alexander," she said finally. "But I need Claire and Thomas somewhere completely secure. Somewhere he would never think to look."
Marina handed her a set of coordinates. "There's a facility in northern Finland. Off-grid. We've been developing countermeasures there. Claire's already agreed to go."
Isabella pocketed the paper. "When?"
"Tonight. A private jet is waiting at Teterboro." Marina stood. "Claire wants to see you before she goes. She says... she has something that belongs to you."
After Marina left, Isabella opened her desk drawer and removed the small silver vial she'd kept hidden there. The last of Evelyn's counteragent—insurance, in case Alexander ever found Thomas. In case they needed to erase the last of Edward's influence from the boy's DNA.
She slipped it into her pocket and reached for her coat.
Night had fallen by the time she arrived at the safe house in Brooklyn. Claire answered the door immediately, her eyes darting past Isabella to check the street.
"You weren't followed?" she asked, ushering Isabella inside.
"No." Isabella squeezed Claire's arm reassuringly. "You're safe."
The apartment was sparse but warm. Books and toys are scattered across the floor, evidence of a toddler's presence. Thomas was asleep in a portable crib, his dark curls a stark contrast against the white sheets.
"He looks bigger," Isabella said softly.
Claire smiled, the first genuine smile Isabella had seen from her in months. "He's thriving. No sign of the modifications. He's just... a normal little boy."
Isabella felt her throat tighten. "Good. That's good."
Claire gestured to the couch. "Sit. Please." She disappeared into the kitchen, returning with two glasses of wine. "For the road."
They drank in silence for a moment, the weight of what was to come hanging between them.
"I need to ask you something," Claire said finally. "If... if something happens to me. Will you look after him?"
Isabella stared at her. "Nothing's going to happen to you."
"But if it does." Claire's eyes were fierce. "Promise me."
Isabella thought of her life—the corporate battles, the constant vigilance, the knowledge that Alexander was out there, waiting. It wasn't a life for a child.
But looking at Thomas, peaceful in sleep, she felt something she hadn't in years. A connection that went beyond blood or obligation.
"I promise," she said quietly.
Claire nodded, satisfied. Then she went to a bookshelf and retrieved a small metal box. "This is what I wanted to give you. I found it in Marina's research. It's the original data on the Sterling Silver formula."
Isabella took the box, frowning. "Why give this to me? Why not destroy it?"
"Because we need to understand it to fight it." Claire's voice was tight. "Because Alexander already has the formula, and he's not going to stop."
Isabella tucked the box into her bag. "I'm going to the facility in Switzerland. I'll end this before he can start mass production."
Claire's eyes widened. "That's suicide."
"No." Isabella's voice was calm. "It's strategy. Alexander won't hurt me. Not yet. He needs me."
"For what?"
Isabella's smile was cold. "For the final piece of the puzzle." She tapped her temple. "Edward did more than just hire my father. The Sterling Silver prototypes—they're keyed to specific genetic markers. My genetic markers."
Claire stared at her. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that Sterling Silver won't work without me. Edward engineered it that way—a failsafe to ensure his creations couldn't be stolen." Isabella stood. "Alexander can manufacture all he wants, but without my DNA, it's useless."
"And you're going to walk right into his lab?" Claire shook her head. "There has to be another way."
"There isn't." Isabella checked her watch. "Your plane leaves in three hours. You need to get ready."
As Claire packed, Isabella sat beside Thomas's crib, watching him sleep. His tiny hands were curled into fists, his breathing soft and even. No silver tracing his veins now. Just a normal child.
"I'll keep him safe," she whispered. "I promise."
Later, as they said their goodbyes at the private airfield, Claire pressed something into Isabella's hand. A small vial of blood.
"Synthetic," Claire explained. "It has your genetic markers, enough to fool any basic test. If Alexander forces you to give him what he needs..."
Isabella pocketed it with a nod of thanks. "Take care of yourself. And him."
She watched as Claire boarded the plane, Thomas bundled in her arms. The sight of them disappearing into the aircraft sent a chill down Isabella's spine—a premonition she couldn't shake.
As the plane taxied down the runway, Isabella's phone buzzed with a message. An unknown number.
*I know what you're planning. Don't be a hero, Isabella. Be smart.*
She deleted it without responding. Alexander was watching. Of course, he was. He always had been.
Back in her car, she traced the outline of the silver ring on her finger. A tracker, yes. But also a compass—pointing her directly to the man who had become her obsession.
The man she needed to destroy.
She started the engine and headed for the airport. Zurich was waiting.