Chapter 229
Isabella Sinclair stepped out of the sleek black car, inhaling the crisp evening air before diving straight into action. Her fingers flew across her phone screen as she dialed Julian Whitmore’s number.
“Julian, I need you to dig into someone for me,” she said without preamble. “Donovan Sinclair. He’s the acting president of one of the Blackwood Group’s subsidiaries. I want everything—background, financial records, connections—everything.”
Isabella already had a rough idea of the scheme Ethan Blackwood and Sophia Kensington were orchestrating. They were relentless, circling her like vultures, prodding at her patience. If they refused to back off, she’d strike first.
If this were just petty emotional games, she would’ve handled it herself. But this involved a Blackwood subsidiary—a much deeper issue. Mishandling it could send ripples through the entire company, potentially drawing William Blackwood’s attention. The man was getting older; he didn’t need the stress of family drama.
The voice on the other end of the line was sulky. “I’m not doing it.” Julian’s initial excitement at her call had evaporated the moment she mentioned work. He’d been hoping she wanted to visit Cobweb, not assign him another task.
“Three times, boss,” he grumbled. “You promised you’d visit us three times! Even a con artist wouldn’t break their word this badly.”
Isabella sighed. “I’ve been swamped lately. Once things settle down, I’ll come by Cobweb. I promise.”
Since her divorce, there hadn’t been a single peaceful day in Ontdale.
Despite his complaints, Julian was already pulling up the requested information, sending it to her in real time. “Boss, if you need backup, I can send some Cobweb operatives to keep an eye on you. Most of the trouble you’re stirring up seems tied to the Blackwoods and Kingsleys. Are they harassing you? I could leak a few corporate secrets, tank their stocks—all under Cobweb’s name.” His voice was calm, but irritation simmered beneath the surface. To Julian, Ontdale was full of people who didn’t know their place.
“No need,” Isabella replied, skimming through the documents he’d just sent. “Cobweb is the world’s largest intelligence network. We stay neutral. No personal vendettas, no compromising our principles over petty disputes.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Julian muttered, sounding wounded. “You’re always so strict. Fine. I’ll just sit here and wait until you finally have time for me.”
Isabella chuckled. “Julian, you’re so dramatic.” She hung up, a faint smile lingering on her lips before her expression hardened as she focused on the files.
Donovan Sinclair, thirty-four, had no formal education or notable skills. When he took over the subsidiary, he filled key positions with relatives and friends, turning management into chaos. Productivity plummeted, and half the staff were being paid to do nothing.
As for why headquarters hadn’t intervened? Simple—Donovan had protection.
Isabella’s gaze sharpened as she noted Donovan’s home address. If she remembered correctly, Eleanor Blackwood—Ethan’s mother—visited Donovan’s residence at least three or four times a month. Donovan might lack business sense, but he had charm and good looks—qualities that had clearly won Eleanor’s favor.
“Eleanor’s involved,” Isabella murmured to herself.
She recalled her time at the subsidiary, painstakingly tracing the source of its financial losses. Just as she’d been close to uncovering the truth, Eleanor had intervened, forcing her out. She’d even warned Ethan that Isabella was drawing too much attention, damaging the Blackwood name.
The betrayal had blindsided her. Never had she imagined that, years later, she’d be accused of causing the very downfall she’d tried to prevent.
Before she could delve deeper, her phone rang again.
William Blackwood’s voice boomed through the speaker. “Isabella! Tomorrow’s my eightieth birthday. I haven’t seen you in ages—I miss you. You must come.”
Isabella forced a polite smile. “William, I don’t think that’s appropriate. Ethan and I are divorced. There’s no reason for me to attend.”
“Nonsense!” William cut her off sharply. “I made myself clear last time. The Blackwood family only recognizes you as Ethan’s wife. Since you’re not that anymore, you’re my granddaughter.” His voice turned icy. “As for that so-called grandson of mine? Ethan is nothing but a useless fool.”
