Isabella POV
The Sterling Industries boardroom had always felt like a cathedral to me, soaring windows that overlooked the city, gleaming mahogany table that had hosted three generations of family decisions, portraits of Sterling patriarchs watching over everything with stern approval. This morning, it felt like a mausoleum.
I sat in my father's chair, my chair now, trying to project confidence I didn't feel while the board of directors filed in with expressions that ranged from sympathetic to calculating. These men had known me since I was a child, had watched me grow up in the halls of Sterling Tower, but today they were looking at me like I was an untested commodity they weren't sure they could trust with their investments.
Maybe they were right to doubt me.
"The will reading is straightforward," began Thomas Hartwell, the family attorney who'd served Sterling Industries for thirty years. His voice carried the weight of formality, but I caught the undercurrent of something else. Worry, maybe. Or pity. "Your father has left you controlling interest in Sterling Industries, fifty-one percent of the company. The remainder is divided among various board members and key shareholders."
Fifty-one percent. Enough to control the company, but not enough to ignore the board entirely. Dad had always been strategic, even in death.
"However," Hartwell continued, and that single word made my stomach clench, "there are... complications we need to discuss immediately."
Of course there were. When had anything in my life ever been simple?
Henry Morrison cleared his throat from across the table. As chairman of the board, he'd been Dad's closest friend and advisor, the man who'd helped build Sterling Industries from a small construction company into a billion-dollar empire. The fact that he couldn't meet my eyes told me everything I needed to know about how bad this was going to be.
"Isabella," he said gently, "your father's death comes at a particularly vulnerable time for the company. We've been struggling with some... financial difficulties."
Financial difficulties. Corporate speak for 'we're fucked.'
"How bad?" I asked, proud that my voice remained steady.
Marcus Chen slid a folder across the polished table. "Bad. We've been hemorrhaging money for eighteen months. Failed investments in overseas markets, cost overruns on three major projects, and the Pemberton deal falling through cost us nearly two hundred million."
Two hundred million. I tried to process the number, but it felt abstract, unreal. Like play money in a game I'd never learned to play properly.
"The Pemberton deal was supposed to be our safety net," added Victoria Walsh, our CFO. Her perfectly manicured fingers drummed against the table in a nervous rhythm that made my skin crawl. "When Pemberton Industries canceled their contract last month, it triggered penalty clauses that wiped out our cash reserves."
"How much do we have left?" I asked, though I was already dreading the answer.
"Operating capital for approximately three months," Victoria said without flinching. "After that..."
She didn't need to finish. After that, Sterling Industries would collapse like a house of cards, taking three generations of family legacy down with it.
"There has to be something we can do," I said, scanning the faces around the table. "Assets we can sell, investors we can approach, "
"That's the other problem," Marcus interrupted, his expression grim. "Someone's been buying up our stock. Quietly, through shell companies and proxy purchases. As of yesterday, they control eighteen percent of Sterling Industries."
Eighteen percent. Just under the threshold that would require public disclosure. Someone smart enough to know corporate law, wealthy enough to make major stock purchases, and patient enough to wait for the perfect moment to strike.
"Do we know who?" I asked, though the sinking feeling in my stomach told me I wouldn't like the answer.
"Cross Enterprises," Henry said, and the name hit me like a physical blow. "They're a corporate acquisition firm based here in the city. They specialize in hostile takeovers of struggling companies."
Cross Enterprises. The predator Marcus had warned me about yesterday. The enemy who'd been circling while I'd been playing at business school, learning theories that meant nothing when faced with real-world destruction.
"What do they want?" I asked, though I already knew. Companies like Cross Enterprises didn't acquire struggling businesses out of sentiment. They wanted to strip whatever value remained and liquidate the rest.
"They want Sterling Industries," Victoria said bluntly. "All of it. And with eighteen percent of the stock and our current financial position, they're in a perfect position to launch a full hostile takeover."
The words hit me like bullets, each one finding its mark with devastating precision. Everything my father had built, everything three generations of Sterlings had created, was about to be destroyed by faceless corporate raiders who saw us as nothing more than profit margins on a spreadsheet.
"How long do we have?" I asked.
"Not long," Marcus said. "With your father's death and the company's financial instability, Cross Enterprises could make their move at any time. Days, maybe weeks if we're lucky."
Days. I had days to save a company that had taken decades to build.
"There's something else," Henry said, his voice carrying a weight that made everyone at the table go silent. "Something your father asked me to tell you if anything ever happened to him."
He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a sealed envelope with my name written in Dad's familiar handwriting. My hands shook as I took it, the paper feeling heavier than it should.
"He said you'd understand when the time came," Henry added. "He said you'd know what to do."
I broke the seal with trembling fingers and unfolded the single sheet of expensive stationary inside. Dad's words, written in his careful script, stared back at me:
*Isabella,
If you're reading this, then I'm gone and you're facing the greatest challenge of your life. Sterling Industries is more than a company, it's our family's legacy, our contribution to the world. But legacy means nothing if it's built on lies.
There are things I never told you about the past, decisions I made that I'm not proud of. Seven years ago, I destroyed someone who trusted me, someone who was like a son to me. I told myself it was to protect you, to protect our family, but the truth is I was afraid. Afraid of losing control, afraid of being replaced by someone younger and more brilliant.
That someone is coming for us now. He's been planning this for years, and he has every right to his revenge. What I stole from him... what I took... it belongs to him.
But you belong to no one, Isabella. You are stronger than I ever was, smarter than I ever gave you credit for. Whatever happens, whatever you decide to do, know that I love you and I'm proud of the woman you've become.
The choice is yours now. Fight or surrender. But if you choose to fight, fight for the right reasons. Fight for the future, not the past.
All my love, Dad
P.S. , His name is Damien Cross. You knew him once. You might even have loved him.*
The letter fell from my numb fingers, fluttering to the polished table like a dying bird. The boardroom spun around me as pieces of a puzzle I didn't know existed clicked into place with devastating clarity.
Damien Cross.
The name hit me like a lightning bolt, bringing with it a flood of memories I'd tried to bury. Damien at twenty-five, brilliant and hungry and so beautiful it hurt to look at him. Damien in my father's lab, working on revolutionary technology that was supposed to change everything. Damien holding me on the night before he left, whispering promises against my hair that we both knew he couldn't keep.
Damien, who'd disappeared one day without explanation, leaving behind only whispered rumors about theft and lawsuits that were quickly hushed up.
You knew him once. You might even have loved him.
Might have? I'd been eighteen and stupid with first love, ready to throw away everything for a man who'd vanished from my life like smoke. I'd spent months waiting for him to contact me, to explain, to come back. When he never did, I'd convinced myself that what we'd shared hadn't meant anything to him.
Now I knew the truth. My father had destroyed him. Had stolen from him. Had driven him away to protect me from... what? A future he didn't approve of?
And now Damien was back, wielding Cross Enterprises like a weapon aimed directly at my heart.
"Isabella?" Henry's voice seemed to come from very far away. "Are you all right?"
I looked up at the concerned faces around the table, these people who'd known my father and trusted him, who'd believed in Sterling Industries and everything it represented. They had no idea that the enemy hunting us had once been family. That the man trying to destroy us had every right to his revenge.
"I need to see the Cross Enterprises acquisition documents," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "Everything we have on them. Financial records, corporate structure, acquisition history."
"Isabella, " Marcus began.
"Everything," I repeated, steel entering my voice. "If we're going to war, I need to know exactly who we're fighting."
But I already knew. I was fighting the ghost of my first love, the boy who'd kissed me under starlight and promised to change the world. The man my father had betrayed and destroyed.
The man who was about to return the favor.
"There's a Cross Enterprises representative requesting a meeting," Victoria said, checking her phone. "They want to discuss terms for a potential acquisition. This afternoon."
This afternoon. He wasn't wasting any time.
"Set it up," I said, ignoring the shocked looks around the table. "Conference room A, three o'clock."
"Isabella, you can't seriously be considering, " Henry started.
"I'm not considering anything," I cut him off. "But if Cross Enterprises wants Sterling Industries, they're going to have to go through me first. And I want to look my enemy in the eye when he makes his move."
I want to see what seven years of hatred have done to the boy I loved.
As the board members filed out, whispering among themselves about strategy and damage control, I remained in my father's chair, staring out at the city that had once felt like my kingdom.
In six hours, I would come face to face with Damien Cross. The question was: would he still remember the girl who'd loved him, or would he see only Richard Sterling's daughter, another obstacle to be crushed on his path to revenge?
Time to find out just how much damage Daddy's betrayal really caused.