Chapter 8: Lighthouse Protocol
Dawn broke over Manhattan's skyline as the Sterling jet touched down. Isabella, dressed in a suit Vivian had provided, stepped onto the tarmac looking every inch the corporate proxy—the perfect mask for the rebellion burning within.
"The board gathers at nine," Vivian said, checking her watch. "You have two hours to prepare."
Lucas handed Isabella a slim portfolio. "Your talking points. Deviate, and Alexander pays the price."
"I understand," Isabella replied coldly.
A sleek town car whisked them to Sterling Tower, the company's glass fortress rising like a monolith above Fifth Avenue. In the executive suite, Isabella was left alone to review the materials—a carefully crafted narrative that would give Edward control through a shell corporation while appearing to honor Alexander's leadership.
The moment the door closed, Isabella extracted Claire's microchip from where she'd hidden it in her bra. Her phone couldn't read it, but Alexander's desktop computer might.
The terminal prompted for Alexander's password. Isabella tried combinations of his birthday and his mother's name, but nothing worked. Then, a memory surfaced—Alexander at his penthouse safe, opening it with biometrics but also whispering something under his breath.
*Thomas Edward Sterling.*
The screen unlocked.
Isabella inserted the microchip into a port, heart pounding as files populated the screen—financial records, medical reports, and surveillance photos spanning decades. Project Blackwood wasn't just about Thomas; it was about breeding a genetically "superior" line of Sterlings through controlled reproduction. Edward had been experimenting with his own children first.
And Alexander knew.
A video file caught her attention—dated the night of Claire's "accident."
The footage showed Alexander confronting his father in Edward's office, rage contorting his features.
"She's pregnant, for god's sake!" Alexander shouted.
Edward remained calm. "Which is why she's valuable. The genetic markers are promising."
"I love her."
"Love is a chemical reaction, Alexander. Legacy is eternal."
As the men argued, Isabella noticed something odd—Alexander surreptitiously placed a small object on Edward's desk. A bug.
The video ended abruptly. Isabella scrolled through more files, finding a folder labeled "Lighthouse." Inside: coordinates to a remote location on Long Island, and a single name: Marina Petrova.
Claire's words echoed: *Find Marina. At the lighthouse.*
A knock at the door startled her. Isabella quickly ejected the chip and closed the files as Vivian entered.
"The board is assembling early," Vivian announced. "Edward's orders."
Isabella composed herself. "I'm ready."
The boardroom occupied the entire top floor, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a godlike view of the city. Twelve board members sat around a massive table of polished mahogany, their expressions ranging from curiosity to open hostility as Isabella entered with Vivian.
James Harrington rose to greet her, concern evident in his features. "Isabella. You look... different."
"It's been an eventful week," she replied, squeezing his hand meaningfully. *Trust me*, her eyes pleaded.
"Before we begin," a board member interrupted, "we require proof that Mr. Sterling has indeed appointed Ms. Whittaker as his proxy."
Vivian nodded to Lucas, who played a video on the boardroom's screen. Alexander appeared, looking haggard but composed.
"I, Alexander Sterling, of sound mind, hereby appoint Isabella Whittaker as my proxy in all Sterling International matters until my return." His voice was flat, rehearsed. But as the camera began to pull away, he made a subtle gesture—touching his cufflink three times.
*Duress signal*, Isabella realized. They'd established it months ago, a silent warning system if either was ever compromised.
"Satisfied?" Vivian asked the board.
The meeting proceeded, Isabella, playing her role perfectly—suggesting the corporate restructuring Edward had outlined, advocating for the very changes that would ultimately strip Alexander of power.
"And what of the rumors regarding Edward Sterling's death?" one board member asked. "The markets are... unsettled."
"My father's condition was exaggerated," came a voice from the doorway.
All heads turned as Evelyn Sterling entered, elegant in a charcoal suit, very much alive.
"Evelyn," Vivian said, recovering quickly. "We weren't expecting you."
"Clearly." Evelyn took a seat at the table. "I've been conducting a thorough review of our Alaskan operations. The findings are... disturbing."
Isabella watched the silent communication passing between Vivian and Lucas—this wasn't part of the script.
"This meeting is about corporate restructuring," Vivian interjected.
"Is it?" Evelyn slid folders to each board member. "Or is it about covering up two decades of environmental violations and worker deaths that would bankrupt this company if they became public?"
Chaos erupted as board members flipped through the damning evidence. Isabella caught Evelyn's eye across the table, receiving an almost imperceptible nod.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Isabella said, rising to her feet. "There's something else you should know."
Lucas moved toward her, hand slipping inside his jacket, but James Harrington blocked his path.
"Edward Sterling is alive," Isabella continued. "And he's been conducting illegal genetic experiments under the corporate umbrella—experiments that have resulted in multiple deaths."
"That's absurd," Vivian snapped.
"Is it?" Isabella pulled out her phone, displaying documents from Claire's microchip. "These financial records show Sterling International funding a black-site medical facility called Blackwood. A facility where Edward Sterling has been developing genetically modified children—including his own grandchild."
The boardroom erupted again. Lucas made a move toward the door, but security—James's security, Isabella realized—blocked his exit.
"This meeting is adjourned," Vivian declared, gathering her papers.
"Actually," Evelyn countered, "the meeting is just beginning. Security, please escort Ms. Rodriguez to a holding room. The FBI is very interested in speaking with her."
As agents entered—FBI jackets clearly visible—Isabella caught the calculating look that passed between Evelyn and James. This had been coordinated. But why help her?
In the chaos that followed, Isabella slipped away, Evelyn falling into step beside her in the hallway.
"We don't have much time," Evelyn said urgently. "Alexander has gone rogue."
"What do you mean?"
"He escaped during transport. He's unstable—has been since he learned what father did to Claire." Evelyn handed Isabella a key card. "Marina has Thomas. She'll only release him to you."
"Why me?"
"Because Claire trusted you." Evelyn's expression softened momentarily. "And because you're the only one without Sterling blood on your hands."
An explosion rocked the building, the sound coming from several floors below.
"That would be Alexander," Evelyn said grimly. "Go. Now. The lighthouse at Montauk. Marina is waiting."
Isabella hesitated. "How do I know this isn't another trap?"
Evelyn's smile was bitter. "You don't. That's the Sterling legacy—never knowing who to trust." She pressed something into Isabella's hand—a gun. "Even family."
As alarms blared and sprinklers activated, Isabella made her choice, racing toward the executive elevator as chaos descended on Sterling Tower.