*Isabella's POV*
I glanced between the Zoom window still open on my screen and the phone ringing in my hand. "Speaking of which," I muttered quickly, "I think Damien is calling me. I have to go, sir." Gordon gave a curt nod. "Goodbye, Ms. Williams." and he ended the zoom call. Immediately, I answered Damien's video call, my heart thudding like I'd just been caught cheating on a final exam. And then—fuck. I nearly forgot how hot he is. There he was, on my screen. Damien Lancaster. Like Jacob, but… not.
Jacob had the smirk, the wild charm, the effortless danger. Damien? Damien was carved from stone—clean, controlled, polished power. That commanding energy wrapped around him like a custom suit. He didn't need to yell. He just existed and people listened. "Hello, Isabella," he said with that calm voice of his. "How are you? How are things going there?" I plastered on a professional smile. "I'm good, sir. Things are going well. Nothing out of the ordinary." Liar, liar, heels on fire my brain yelled
His eyes softened just a little, but I still felt like he was studying every flicker on my face. "And how did the meeting go? I meant to call yesterday but got caught up." I hesitated for the briefest moment. "Don't worry, sir," I said, keeping my voice even. "It was… good." He exhaled, relieved. "Alright. I'm glad to hear it." Before he could dig deeper, I latched onto the only excuse that would work. "Sir, your brother is calling me," I blurted. "I'm hanging up."
"Alright," Damien said, nodding. "Take care. And tell him to call me, please." "Of course," I said, already ending the call before my face betrayed me. The second the screen went black, I slumped back into my chair. "Fuck." I just lied to Damien Lancaster. To his face.
Jacob wasn't calling me. Hell, Jacob wasn't even answering me. But what was I supposed to say? "Oh, by the way, your brother might've fucked things up with a potential investor and torched your business deal into ash?"
Nope. Not today. I pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaled through clenched teeth, and muttered to no one, "Jacob, what the actual fuck have you done?" The pressure in my chest wasn't going away, but I forced myself to shove it all aside. The Lancasters could wait. The lies could wait. The damage control could definitely wait. For now, I just had to finish my work, get out of this building, and maybe drink a full bottle of wine when I got home.
When I got home, I didn't even bother turning on the lights. I tossed my bag on the floor, peeled off my work clothes like they were suffocating me, and headed straight for the shower. I let the hot water beat down on me until the steam fogged up the glass, trying to scrub off the anxiety of the day. But no amount of soap was strong enough to wash off Lancaster drama.
After toweling off, I threw on my favorite sleep shorts and a tank top, then slumped onto the couch with a groan. My body sank into the cushions like it was trying to disappear into another dimension. That's when it hit me. The recording. I'd completely forgotten I'd left my personal phone recording during the meeting with Oliver Pheonix. My eyes snapped open, heart starting to pick up pace. Maybe… just maybe it would tell me what the hell happened after I left that room.
I grabbed my phone from the side table and pulled up the voice memos. The file was still there, untouched. "Alright, let's see where it all went to shit," I muttered, tapping play. The audio started harmless enough. Jacob's voice. Mine. Oliver's. Small talk. Presentation chatter. The usual. Then came the moment I stood to leave, tea tray in hand, my heels clicking away on the tile. That's when everything changed.
Oliver's voice, sleazy and low. "Damn, that ass," he muttered. I blinked, sitting up straighter. Then came more. Worse. "I bet you know how it feels," he said to Jacob, his tone lewd, arrogant. My blood turned to ice. "The question is… are you willing to share?" What the actual fuck? I stared at my phone in stunned silence, my own breathing ragged now, catching up to the audio.
Then the bastard kept talking. "I've been craving that sexy little assistant of his for so long… Forty-eight hours, that's not much, right?" That old, disgusting, perverted fuck.
And Jacob… Jacob beat the shit out of him.
I could hear it in the recording , the brutal sounds of fists connecting with flesh, the crash of furniture, and heavy, ragged breathing.
Then his voice , deep, furious, unhinged: "Get up and fight me, you bastard — or get the fuck out of here!" I froze Shocked giving way to nausea His voice wasn't just angry. It was explosive. The kind of rage that tears through walls — the kind that doesn't come from nowhere. There was a scuffle, more movement, and then came Oliver's voice , nasal, strained, but still soaked in entitlement "I'll be back, you bastard. And with my lawyers."
I clapped a hand over my mouth.Jesus. That crack — that must've been Jacob breakib his nose or something. I could practically hear the bone snap. I winced just thinking about it. Suddenly I couldn't sit still. I paused the recording mid-breath, unable to listen to another second.
My stomach twisted. My heart thudded like it was trying to claw its way out of my chest. What the hell had Jacob gotten himself into? And more terrifying — what if Oliver wasn't bluffing? What if his lawyers were already coming for Jacob? For the company? For me?
I stood up fast, legs shaky beneath me. Panic pulsed through me like caffeine injected straight into my veins. Everything made sense now. Jacob's disappearance and storming out asking, no demand a cigarette. His disappearance. Gordon had it all wrong. Pheonix's sudden withdrawal wasn't because of Jacob but of his own horny fucked up reasons.
"I need to see Jacob," I whispered to myself.
Right now.