Chapter 45
Isabella's POV:
When Anna first came to me, I didn't take it too seriously.
A cousin running to complain that her older cousin had stolen her "sugar daddy." This kind of thing was far too common in high society—so common that I barely had the patience to listen through it.
But Anna gave me more information than I'd expected.
Elise and Liam had been together for seven years. Liam spent seven figures on her annually. Liam had introduced her to the family. Liam rented her an apartment, bought her clothes, handled her problems at school. Liam's attitude toward her—in Anna's exact words—was "completely different from how he treats other women."
At the time, I filed this information under "reference," not "important."
Because in my framework of understanding, Liam treating any woman "differently" didn't mean anything. He was a spoiled golden retriever who liked one toy today and another tomorrow. The only difference between toys was that he hadn't gotten bored of them yet.
But today, this golden retriever had said "no" to his family.
For that toy.
I turned around and looked at the phone on the coffee table. The screen had gone dark, but I could see my own face reflected in it—expression calm, eyes slightly narrowed.
A tattoo artist. An orphan. A mistress who'd been kept for seven years. No family background, no connections, no social standing. By any standard, she shouldn't be worth Liam defying his family over.
But Liam had defied them.
This meant my assessment framework had missed a variable. Elise's place in Liam's heart wasn't "a toy he hasn't gotten bored of yet."
If she were a toy, losing one and finding the next would be fine—Liam had done that sort of thing before.
He wouldn't offend Edwin for a toy. He wouldn't risk insulting the Sinclair family for a toy.
Unless that toy wasn't a toy.
Unless Liam himself hadn't realized—his feelings for Elise had already exceeded the scope of mere "possession."
I picked up my phone and opened the notes app. Inside was a folder labeled "Elise."
It contained the information Anna had given me, plus material I'd gathered myself. Her school, her tattoo shop, a rough timeline of her relationship with Liam.
Not much, but enough to sketch an outline.
I stared at the screen for a few seconds.
Then I made a decision.
Liam arrived at eight in the evening.
When I opened the door for him, I was wearing a white silk shirt with the sleeves rolled to my elbows, my hair loose around my shoulders. Not deliberately dressed up—I'd simply been in the apartment all day and hadn't bothered to change.
He stood in the doorway, expression grim.
"You look like you're here to talk business," I said.
"I am here to talk business."
I stepped aside to let him in. He walked straight to the living room and sat on the sofa without asking for anything to drink.
I poured myself a glass of soda water and sat across from him.
"You're postponing the engagement," I said. Not a question.
"Yes."
"Because of Elise."
He didn't deny it. Didn't confirm it either. Just said, "It's more complicated than you think."
"I don't care about your feelings," I said.
Liam looked up at me.
"I only care about this deal."
I set the soda water on the coffee table and leaned forward slightly.
A negotiating posture—the first thing I'd learned in law school was that when you want someone to take you seriously, you don't lean back in your chair.
"Marriage and love are two separate things, Liam. I've known from the beginning that you don't love me. You don't need to love me. You only need to do one thing—act like a competent fiancé in public. Attend events. Protect my reputation. Give the outside world no room for speculation."
I paused.
"In exchange, I'll buy you time with Edwin. The photos—the ones on the dark web—I'll have my father's people handle them. The rumors, I'll suppress them."
Liam looked at me. His expression was complex—surprise, wariness, and something else I couldn't quite identify.
"Why would you help me?" he asked.
"I'm not helping you," I said. "I'm helping myself. The Sinclairs don't marry off their daughters as charity work. I need the Sterling name and resources; you need Sinclair connections and respectability. Mutual benefit."
"You give me time to handle my private affairs," I said, "and I'll give you a facade that won't collapse. Fair?"
Liam fell silent.
He sank back into the sofa, one hand resting on the armrest, fingers unconsciously tapping the leather. He was thinking. Or more accurately, he was hesitating—not about whether to agree, but about what agreeing would mean.
"I need to think about it," he said.
"Fine." I nodded without pressing.
Because I knew he would agree.
He had no other options.
Edwin had given him three days. After three days, he'd either return with a respectable answer or be completely marginalized by the family. And what I was offering him was the only way out he could currently get.
Liam stood and walked to the door.
He paused when he pulled it open, without turning back.
"Who are you, really?" he asked.
"Your fiancée," I said. "At least in name."
He left.
The sound of the door closing was soft.
I sat on the sofa for a while, replaying the conversation in my mind.
Every word. Every pause. Every expression.
Liam's state today was different from last time. Last time he'd been anxious, uneasy, desperate to explain.
Today he wasn't. Today he was hollow—like a pillow with the stuffing pulled out, still holding its shape on the outside but deflated within.
He was losing something.
And he knew it.
I picked up my phone and reopened the "Elise" folder.
The information Anna had given me. The material I'd gathered myself. School, tattoo shop, timeline.
Not enough.
Far from enough.
A woman who could make Liam Sterling say no to his family must have something about her I didn't know.
Anna had only seen the surface—a beautiful tattoo artist who knew how to seduce men. But Liam wasn't a fool. No matter how spoiled he was, he wouldn't gamble his entire family relationship for just "a beautiful tattoo artist."
Unless there was something about her he couldn't let go of.
I opened the browser.
Thought for a moment, then typed two words in the search bar.
Elise.
The search results were mostly social media—Instagram, Facebook. A few photos of tattoo work. An alumni page from an art university.
No useful information.
I deleted "Elise" and typed again.
"Richard Vance."
Enter.
The moment the search results appeared, my finger hovered above the screen.
First result: a news article from five years ago. The headline read—
"Prominent Law Firm Partner Richard Vance and Wife Audrey Vance Murdered at Home, Police Investigating."
I clicked through.
The article was brief. Richard Vance, partner at Carter & Associates. Shot and killed at home with his wife Audrey. No property stolen. Case still unsolved.
I scrolled down.
Found a line.
"Mr. Richard Vance was a longtime legal counsel for Sterling Corporation, handling multiple core business matters."
Sterling.
I leaned back into the sofa, my finger tapping the screen twice lightly.
Then I flipped back to the "Elise" folder and found a piece of information Anna had provided—a screenshot of Elise's school enrollment form.
Parents section.
Father: Richard Vance. Mother: Audrey Vance.
I set the phone on the coffee table.
Picked up the soda water and took a sip. The bubbles had all escaped, leaving only lukewarm sweet water.
Interesting.
Very interesting.