Chapter 155 A Fantastic Job
ISABEL'S POV
Alright, thankfully I was able to slip out of there without anyone noticing.
I didn’t rush. That would have been suspicious. I simply adjusted the hem of the ridiculous dress they all seemed to admire, lowered my head slightly like I was still that “changed” and “humble” version of myself, and quietly stepped away while everyone’s attention remained glued to the commotion at the entrance.
Melissa was doing a fantastic job.
I almost laughed thinking about it.
She really knew how to perform when necessary. Creating a scene, accusing the security guard, raising her voice at the perfect pitch to draw attention — it was almost impressive. And the best part? Everyone was eating it up. Their eyes were fixed on her drama, their ears tuned to her outrage.
Gosh.
If only they knew.
It had taken everything in me not to lash out earlier when Anna said I looked good. I could still hear her voice in my head.
“Uhmm, you look good.”
The nerve.
How can I look good in this trash dress?
It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t bold. It wasn’t me. It was plain, the exact image I needed to sell tonight.
Just soft.
Subtle.
Reformed.
I almost gagged.
But I smiled. I even thanked her.
And when she complimented me, that nearly broke my composure. I could feel the irritation rising inside me, clawing at my throat, but I swallowed it down like bitter medicine.
Because from the looks of it, they were convinced.
Hook, line, and sinker.
Dad talking about second chances. Mom looking like she might cry. Even Dan with that suspicious but softening expression.
And Anna…
Anna looked hopeful.
That was the best part.
That fragile, dangerous hope in her eyes.
They truly believed I had changed.
And that would be their biggest mistake.
I moved quickly once I turned the corner of the hallway leading away from the entrance. The noise from the main hall was fading, but Melissa’s raised voice still echoed faintly in the distance. Perfect distraction.
I walked along the side corridor, scanning the walls.
This ceremony center was bigger than I initially thought. White walls, golden framed mirrors, long red carpeting that tried too hard to look luxurious. I kept my footsteps light, careful not to attract attention from any wandering staff.
“Come on…” I muttered under my breath.
I had studied the layout earlier online. Every decent venue had a back entrance — usually near the service area or storage rooms.
And then I saw it.
A narrow hallway branching off to the left. Dimmer lighting. No decorations. No floral arrangements. No guests.
That had to be it.
I walked down that hallway, my heels clicking softly against the floor despite my efforts to stay quiet. At the end, there it was.
A metal door.
Plain.
Unremarkable.
Beautiful.
“Yes…” I whispered.
I reached for the handle and slowly pushed it open. Cool air brushed against my face as the outside alley behind the building came into view. Empty. Quiet. Hidden from the front chaos.
I stepped outside just enough to check the surroundings. No one in sight.
Perfect.
Now I just needed him.
I pulled out my phone and quickly texted my IT guy.
Come around the back entrance. The side alley. I’ll be waiting.
I hit send and slipped the phone back into my clutch.
Now I wait.
I leaned against the wall just inside the doorway, careful not to stand fully outside where someone might see me. My heart was beating faster than usual, but not from fear.
From anticipation.
Everything was falling into place.
As I waited, another thought crossed my mind.
Ryan.
He was supposed to be here tonight.
I scanned my memory, trying to recall if I had seen even a glimpse of him since arriving. The crowd had been large — shareholders, business partners, employees, but I hadn’t spotted him.
Not once.
Where was he?
I really do hope he comes.
Because if he does…
This party would get even more intense.
A small smile tugged at my lips. I could already imagine the looks on their faces. Shock. Confusion. Betrayal. The kind of chaos that cracks foundations.
The sound of a car engine approaching snapped me out of my thoughts.
Headlights flashed briefly against the wall of the alley.
He was here.
I stepped fully outside and waved subtly as the car slowed down. The IT guy stepped out quickly, dressed in dark clothing, laptop bag slung over his shoulder.
“You’re late,” I whispered sharply.
“Traffic,” he replied, glancing around nervously. “Is this safe?”
“Safer than the front door,” I said dryly. “Follow me.”
I held the door open and ushered him inside. We moved swiftly down the narrow hallway. I made sure to peek around the corner before entering the main interior corridor again.
Still clear.
The shouting from the entrance had quieted slightly, but it was enough to keep everyone distracted.
We walked in the opposite direction of the crowd until we reached the staff-only section. I had memorized this part too. Most venues kept their IT or control room near the event hall but tucked away from guests.
After a few turns, we found it.
A small room labeled Technical Control.
I opened it carefully and stepped inside. Screens lined one wall, showing different camera angles of the hall — guests chatting, waiters moving around, the stage set up with the large projector screen behind it.
I was surprised there was no technical control team in here, at first I thought there might be someone, but guess like am just lucky.
“Make it quick,” I told him.
He set his laptop on the desk and unzipped his bag. His movements were efficient, practiced. He had done this sort of thing before.
“Do you have the file?” he asked.
I pulled out my phone immediately.
“Of course I do.”
I handed it to him. He connected it to his laptop and began transferring the file onto a flash drive.
As the progress bar moved, my pulse quickened.
This was it.
The tape.
The one thing that would shatter everything they were celebrating tonight.
Transferred.
He removed the flash drive and plugged it into his laptop, then connected his laptop to the projector system’s port.
The screens flickered slightly as the connection established.
“Do you want me to upload the tape now?” he asked, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.
I stared at the main monitor showing the stage. Anna was still near the entrance area, dealing with Melissa. Dad stood a little behind her. Mom looked worried.
And Isabel — the sweet, reformed daughter was nowhere in sight.
I almost laughed.
“Not yet,” I said calmly. “Give it a few minutes.”
He looked at me, confused but obedient.
“Okay.”
I folded my arms and leaned back against the wall, watching the live feed.
Timing is everything.
If we played it too early, it would only cause confusion.
If we played it at the perfect moment when Anna was on stage, when the attention of every guest was focused on her speech about unity and success then the impact would be devastating.
I imagined it already.
Her confident voice echoing through the hall.
Her proud smile.
And then—
Darkness.
Silence.
Followed by the tape.
Gasps from the crowd.
Whispers spreading like wildfire.
Faces turning toward her.
I closed my eyes briefly, savoring the thought.
They thought I had changed.
They thought I regretted everything.
They thought I wanted peace.
The biggest mistake they ever made was underestimating me.
I opened my eyes and glanced at the clock on the wall.
Almost time.