With a steadier hand than she expected, Isabella signed.
“It’s done,” she said quietly. “I’m free.”
Victoria withdrew her hand as if Isabella were something unpleasant. “Security will escort you out. Do be careful.”
Isabella stood, smoothing her coat. She didn’t know how she’d pay rent next month. But she would survive. She always had.
She took a step toward the door.
Then the double doors burst open with a crash that silenced the room.
An older man in a tailored dark suit strode inside, followed by two assistants carrying leather briefcases. His presence commanded the space without effort.
“Who are you?” Richard demanded.
The man ignored him. His gray eyes settled on Isabella.
“My name is Charles Bennett,” he announced. “Chief executor of the estate of Mr. William Davenport.”
A murmur spread instantly. William Davenport—the reclusive founder of a global tech empire, one of the wealthiest men in America, who had died three months earlier without known heirs.
“I’m not here for you,” Bennett said coolly to Victoria. “I’m here to execute my client’s final will.”
He turned to Isabella.
“Mrs. Isabella Reyes? Born March 22nd at St. Mary’s Hospital? Placed in foster care days later?”