The study in the Lawrence mansion felt less like a room for reading and more like a war command center. Dawn streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, slicing across the piles of financial reports scattered over the Persian rug. Alex stood behind the massive mahogany desk, his tie hanging loose around his neck, bloodshot eyes betraying yet another sleepless night.
“Down another two points!” He slammed the tablet onto the desk, his voice raw. “That bastard Hunter is buying up everything on the open market, and we’re just supposed to sit here and watch?”
Charles Wright, the CFO, shifted uneasily and adjusted his glasses. “Alex, we may need to release a statement to calm the market—”
“Calm the market?” Alex let out a short, humorless laugh. “What we should be doing is buying back our own damn shares. But where exactly do you suggest we get the liquidity? Every cent is locked up in my father’s insane acquisition plan!”
Before Charles could answer, the study door opened with a soft click. Isabella walked in, carrying a silver tray with a pot of coffee and still-warm croissants.
“I thought you two might need breakfast,” she said gently—too gently for a room suffocating with tension.
Alex whipped around, and his anger instantly found a new target.
“You,” he spat. “Do you think this is the time? Does this look like a tea party to you?”
Bella set the tray down on the coffee table, her movements graceful and maddeningly calm. “You haven’t eaten since four yesterday afternoon. Hunger doesn’t help anyone think clearly.”
“Oh, how thoughtful.” Alex strode over, snatched up a croissant, and tossed it back onto the tray. “My father is lying in a hospital bed, his empire is being ripped apart, and you’re worried about my diet?”
Her eyes flickered—just a fraction—but her voice remained steady. “Arthur’s condition has stabilized. And if you collapse from exhaustion, that won’t help anyone either.”
“Don’t pretend you care about me. And don’t pretend you care about this company.” His voice rose, sharp and dangerous. “Do you even know what’s happening? Blake Hunter—the same guy who couldn’t stop staring at you during the wedding—is attacking us on the market. And all of this is because my father spent the emergency fund to marry you!”
Silence slammed into the room. Charles ducked his head, pretending to sort paperwork.
Bella slowly straightened, her fingers brushing the pearl brooch at her chest. “So you believe your father’s medical emergency and the company’s problems… are my fault?”
“I know what you are,” Alex stepped closer, lowering his voice to a cold whisper. “Just another expensive ornament my father purchased. A decorative noblewoman. And now that the storm’s here, you’re standing around polishing silver trays and arranging pastries.”
Her chin lifted a fraction, a glint of steel flashing in her eyes. But her voice stayed icy calm. “I understand. Then I’ll leave you to your crisis management, Mr. Pierce.”
She turned and walked toward the door—still elegant, still impossibly poised. But when her hand touched the knob, she paused.
“By the way,” she said without looking back, “if Hunter Industries is truly acquiring aggressively on the open market, they’ll have to file a 13G once they cross five percent. Have you checked this morning’s SEC submissions?”
Both men froze.
“What?” Alex frowned.
Bella turned, a faint shadow of pity on her face. “The Securities and Exchange Commission, Mr. Pierce. Any entity passing five percent ownership in a public company must file within ten days. But if the acquisition is hostile…” She tilted her head slightly. “They’ll use that ten-day window to buy as much as they can before revealing themselves.”
Charles sucked in a sharp breath. “God. She’s right. We’ve been staring at real-time trades but never checked this morning’s filings!”
Alex’s anger wavered, shock flickering behind his eyes. “How do you even know that?”
A faint, bitter smile touched her lips. “The House of Villeneuve didn’t lose its first castle through war, Mr. Pierce. It was taken through a hostile takeover. Our ancestors learned early that the battlefield of business can be far deadlier than the one with swords.”
She opened the door, but glanced back once more. “The coffee is Guatemala Antigua. Your favorite single-origin. Sugar is in the porcelain bowl on the left.”
The door clicked shut, leaving two stunned men behind.
Charles moved first, grabbing the phone. “This is Wright. Pull every 13G and 13D filed today—yes, all of them!”
Alex still stared at the closed door, as if finally seeing the woman behind it for the first time.
“How did she know I like Guatemalan coffee?” he murmured.
Charles hung up, expression conflicted. “Alex… maybe we’ve underestimated Mrs. Villeneuve.”
“A European aristocrat who knows SEC regulations?” Alex shook his head and poured himself a cup. The aroma hit him instantly—exactly the notes he preferred. “None of this makes sense.”
“Maybe it makes more sense than we think,” Charles said quietly. “Her family may be fallen now, but they once controlled the largest wine-trading network in southern France. Commerce might run deeper in her blood than we assumed.”
Alex took a sip. Perfect temperature. Perfect sugar ratio.
An hour later, Bella’s theory proved devastatingly accurate.
“Hunter holds seven percent. No filing!” Charles burst in, pale as paper. “He’s using the window to buy like a madman! At this pace, he’ll have enough for a board seat by the end of the week!”
Alex slammed his fist into the desk. “I knew it! That sneaky—”
His phone rang.
The name on the screen froze the entire room.
Blake Hunter.
Alex exhaled once and hit speaker.
“Alex, my dear friend!” Blake’s cheerful voice flooded the study. “Heard your father’s in the hospital. Such a shame. Hope it’s nothing serious?”
“What do you want, Hunter?” Alex’s tone was ice.
“Nothing much. Just checking on you. Tough times for the Lawrence Group, I imagine. Thought I’d offer my help—as a friend. And as a shareholder.”
“A shareholder?” Alex gritted out.
“Oh, you didn’t know?” Blake feigned surprise. “I’ve recently taken an interest in your company. In fact, I like it so much I’ve decided to invest more. I think we have a wonderful opportunity to… collaborate.”
“The Lawrence family doesn’t need your collaboration,” Alex said coldly.
“Pity.” Blake’s voice stayed light, but now it had teeth. “Perhaps you should discuss it with your stepmother. Isabella, right? Lovely woman. We had such an insightful conversation at the wedding.”
Alex’s hand clenched around the phone. “Don’t talk about her.”
“Why not? I heard she’s alone in that mansion while you’re always at the office. A beautiful woman like her must get lonely… maybe I should visit. Pay my respects.”
The call ended.
The silence afterward was suffocating.
“He wouldn’t actually—” Charles began.
“He would.” Alex’s jaw tightened. “He’d do anything now that he thinks we’re weak.”
That evening, unexpectedly, Alex returned to the mansion for dinner. The long table held only him and Bella, candlelight flickering between them.
She wore a simple black dress, hair loosely pinned back. More real than she had been on the wedding day. And somehow even more unsettlingly beautiful.
“Hunter called today,” Alex said suddenly.
Bella set her fork down, waiting.
“He asked about you.” Alex’s gaze stayed fixed on her. “Said he might come visit.”
Something tightened in her expression—gone in an instant. “I trust Thomas will greet any visitors properly.”
“He’s not someone you should deal with alone.” Alex’s voice hardened.
Bella arched a brow. “Are you worried about my safety? Or worried I’ll side with the enemy?”
He didn’t answer. Instead: “The SEC regulations you mentioned… what else do you know?”
She dabbed her lips with her napkin, composed as ever. “I know Hunter Industries’ debt ratio is eighty percent. Their acquisition funds come mostly from short-term loans. If they can’t finish the takeover and merge our cash flow within three months, they’ll face default.”
Alex froze mid-movement. “How would you possibly know that?”
“When you come from a family that lost everything, you learn to study your opponents’ weaknesses,” she said softly. “At the wedding, Blake Hunter bragged about ‘outsmarting’ his rivals. A truly smart man never brags about victory.”
Alex set his utensils down slowly, studying her—really studying her—as if reassessing a painting he’d judged too quickly.
“If I told you,” he began carefully, “that I need help protecting my father’s company… would you?”
Bella met his gaze, candlelight dancing in her dark eyes. “The Lawrence family is my family now, Mr. Pierce. I married not only your father, but his name—and his legacy.”
A servant removed the plates. Alex suddenly asked, “Do you have plans tonight?”
“I was going to read in the library. Why?”
“Starting tomorrow,” he said, “I want you in the office every day. Boardroom. Nine a.m.”
She tilted her head slightly. “In what capacity?”
“As Isabella de Villeneuve.” He rose and walked to the door, pausing. “And, Isabella…”
She looked up.
“The coffee today… it was good.”
After he left, Bella remained at the far end of the long table, a small, true smile touching her lips. Fingertips brushing her mother’s pearl brooch, she whispered in French:
“The hunt has begun, Mr. Pierce. Though you may not yet know… who the real hunter is.”