CHAPTER 4 — The Bride Who Moved Too Soon
CHAPTER 4 — The Bride Who Moved Too Soon
At exactly 2:17 p.m., Isabella Crane believed she had won.
She sat inside the penthouse bridal suite overlooking downtown Chicago while three assistants arranged designer gowns across velvet racks.
The wedding was four days away.
Luxury magazines were already preparing exclusive coverage.
Society reporters called it the wedding of the decade.
A billionaire.
A philanthropist.
A perfect love story.
She smiled into the mirror.
Soon...
Everything Daniel Hart owned would legally become hers.
Her phone vibrated.
Victor Sloan.
She answered immediately.
"Is it done?"
His voice sounded uneasy.
"The laptop."
"What about it?"
"Our contact says it broke."
"Good."
"But..."
She frowned.
"What?"
"We haven't confirmed whether the drive survived."
Her smile disappeared.
"It doesn't matter."
"It might."
"No."
"I watched him leave this morning."
"He wasn't supposed to come home until afternoon."
Victor lowered his voice.
"Plans change."
"So do accidents."
For the first time that day...
Isabella felt nervous.
"I'll handle it."
She ended the call.
Without another word to her assistants, she grabbed her purse and left.
Back at Hart Mansion...
Marcus was already moving like a prosecutor preparing for trial.
The IT department had confirmed something disturbing.
Daniel's laptop had been remotely accessed six times during the previous month.
Every login originated from inside the mansion.
But Daniel had been traveling during four of them.
Meaning...
Someone else had used his credentials.
Then another report arrived.
Facilities records showed that Isabella herself had requested camera removal in the greenhouse.
Her signature appeared on the authorization.
Daniel stared at the document.
"I never gave her that authority."
Marcus nodded.
"Which means someone inside approved it."
Daniel looked toward the household staff list.
Nearly forty employees.
Chefs.
Gardeners.
Drivers.
Housekeepers.
Security guards.
One of them had been helping Isabella.
The realization settled over the room like smoke.
There was a traitor inside the mansion.
Just then—
The front gates buzzed.
Security called.
"Mr. Hart."
"Miss Crane is here."
Daniel and Marcus exchanged a glance.
"Let her in," Daniel said calmly.
Helena looked horrified.
"You're going to see her?"
Daniel's expression became unreadable.
"No."
"I'm going to let her believe I know nothing."
Five minutes later...
Isabella walked into the grand foyer carrying two coffee cups.
She smiled warmly.
"I thought you could use something after your meeting."
Daniel accepted the cup without drinking.
"Thank you."
She kissed his cheek.
"Feeling better?"
"Much."
"I'm glad."
Her eyes casually swept across the room.
Looking.
Searching.
For the laptop.
She found it.
Sitting on the study desk.
Closed.
Motionless.
Cracked.
She relaxed almost visibly.
Daniel noticed.
So did Marcus.
"So tragic," Isabella sighed.
"Years of work probably gone."
Daniel smiled.
"Maybe."
She stepped closer.
"Can I see it?"
"Why?"
"I was curious."
He handed it to her.
The broken computer felt heavier than she expected.
She turned it over.
Studied the shattered screen.
Pressed the power button.
Nothing happened.
Perfect.
She handed it back.
"It's completely dead."
Daniel nodded.
"Looks that way."
She smiled.
"You should throw it away."
"I probably will."
For the first time that afternoon...
Isabella believed the evidence was gone forever.
She had no idea that while she stood there pretending to comfort her fiancé...
Marcus's forensic team had already duplicated every file from the damaged hard drive.
And hidden among thousands of recovered emails was one document neither Isabella nor her accomplices realized still existed.
A signed agreement.
Bearing five signatures.
Including...
A member of Daniel Hart's own executive board.
The conspiracy was no longer just about a corrupt bride.
It reached into the very company Daniel had spent twenty years building.
May you like
And somewhere inside Hart Global...
Someone powerful had just realized the broken laptop had not stayed silent after all.
