Chapter 85
Serena
Isabella stood at the entrance to her office, hands on her hips, looking like an avenging angel in a blazer. "What," she said, her voice carrying down the hallway with perfect projection, "do you people think you're doing?"
The whispers stopped. The crowd shifted, people looking at each other uncertainly.
"This is Lloyd & Partners," Isabella continued, walking toward us with measured steps. "Not a reality TV show. We are a law firm. A place of business. Of professionalism." She looked around at the gathered onlookers. "And you're all standing here like children watching a schoolyard fight instead of doing your jobs."
She turned her attention to Wesley and Vanessa, and her expression went from annoyed to glacial. "As for you two—fighting in my hallway? Assaulting a client? Destroying private property?" She pulled out her phone. "I've already called the police. They should be here in approximately three minutes. And every single person here—" she gestured at the crowd, "—will serve as witnesses to your assault and harassment."
Wesley's grip on my arms loosened immediately. "Wait, this isn't—we weren't—"
"Battery. Unlawful restraint. Destruction of personal property. Defamation." Isabella ticked off each charge on her fingers like she was reading a grocery list. "Should I continue? Because I can. I have a whole law degree dedicated to knowing exactly what you've done wrong in the last five minutes."
The crowd started to disperse. Quickly. Their whispers carried as they retreated:
"—that's Isabella Lloyd—"
"—senior partner's daughter—"
"—her father will have our heads—"
"—not getting involved in this—"
Nobody wanted to be a witness to a potential lawsuit, especially not one involving the boss's family.
Vanessa's face had gone pale, but she rallied, her smile brittle and desperate. "You don't understand. This woman—she's been sleeping with—"
"I don't care who she's sleeping with," Isabella interrupted. "That's not illegal. What IS illegal is assault, which I just watched you commit. So unless you'd like me to add more charges to the list I'm compiling, I suggest you step away from Miss Vance and return her property. Now."
Vanessa clutched the contracts tighter. "Do you have any idea who I am? My family—the Holland family—we have connections that make your little law firm look like—"
"The Holland family." Isabella's expression didn't change. "I'm sorry, should that mean something to me?"
Vanessa's mouth fell open. "Are you—are you serious right now?"
"I study law, not gossip columns." Isabella took another step forward. "But what I DO know is that you're currently in possession of private documents that don't belong to you, which constitutes theft. And if you don't put those papers down in the next five seconds, I'll be adding larceny to the growing list of charges I'm documenting for Miss Vance's potential civil suit."
I watched Vanessa's face cycle through about six different emotions in rapid succession—shock, rage, humiliation, and finally fear. She looked down at the contracts in her hands like they'd suddenly caught fire, then dropped them on the floor as if they were burning her fingers.
Wesley had completely let go of me now, and I could see him trying to calculate the situation, trying to figure out how to defuse this before it became an actual legal problem.
"Isabella," he said, his voice shifting into something placating, conciliatory. "I think there's been a misunderstanding here. I'm a Lawson—my uncle's stepmother is your aunt, Eleanor Lloyd. We're practically family. So we're all—" he gestured vaguely between them, "—connected. We can work this out without involving the police."
Isabella's laugh was short and humorless. "Family?" She looked at Wesley like he was something she'd found on the bottom of her shoe. "Let me be very clear about something, Mr. Lawson. If people who behave like you—who assault women in public, who destroy property, who engage in harassment and defamation—if those people are destined to become my family?"
She paused, letting the words hang in the air.
"Then I'll be ashamed to share the Lloyd name with relatives who associate with people like you."
Wesley's face drained of color. His mouth opened, then closed again, whatever defense he'd been forming dying on his lips.
"Now," Isabella said, her tone brooking no argument. "I watched that woman—" she pointed at Vanessa, "—throw Miss Vance's documents on the floor. So she can pick them up. Every single page. And if I see her deliberately damage or tear anything in the process, I'll make sure the replacement costs are included in the civil suit."
Vanessa looked at Wesley, clearly expecting him to defend her, to push back. But Wesley was staring at Isabella with an expression that suggested he'd just realized exactly how badly he'd miscalculated this situation.
"Just do it," he muttered. "Pick them up."
"What? I'm not—"