Chapter 37
“Boss, we have a situation!” Maxwell’s voice crackled through the phone. “Photos of you and Harrison Winslow are all over the internet. The forums are exploding.”
He took a sharp breath. “And Sophia Kensington just leaked your address. Paparazzi are swarming your location right now.”
Isabella Montgomery remained perfectly still. A handheld device hummed softly against her skin, casting a cool blue glow across her features.
“Should I arrange a safe house?” Maxwell pressed, urgency tightening his tone. “They’ll have you surrounded within minutes.”
“Since when do I hide?” Her reply was ice-cold and detached. She didn’t flinch.
“What’s the plan then? Should I release a counter-statement? Start damage control?”
“Not yet. It’s too early.” Her voice was firm. Final. She ended the call.
A low rumble echoed from outside. Isabella moved to the window.
Dozens of vehicles screeched to a halt outside Rosewood Manor. Reporters and photographers surged forward like a tidal wave. Her security team formed a barricade, but the crowd pushed harder, shouting, shoving, relentless.
Within moments, the villa was completely surrounded. The noise escalated into a chaotic roar.
“Isabella Montgomery! Did you have an affair with Harrison Winslow?”
“Are you the reason he’s separating from Princess Arabella?”
“Give us a statement! How long has this been going on?”
The questions were vicious, pointed, designed to provoke. Isabella’s recent success at the Chanel show had put her on the map, but this—this scandal with a prince—catapulted her into a different kind of spotlight. The kind that burns.
She didn’t react. Her expression was unreadable. Calm.
They began pounding on the doors and windows, their faces pressed against the glass. The vibrations rattled through the quiet house.
A slow, knowing smile touched Isabella’s lips. She turned and walked upstairs.
The second floor housed a secure control room. Banks of monitors glowed softly in the dim light. She approached the main panel without hesitation.
Her fingers pressed a sequence of bright red buttons.
A deep, mechanical groan shook the entire property. From concealed slots around the estate’s perimeter, massive electric fences slammed down. They formed a perfect, impenetrable cage around the villa, buzzing with raw voltage.
The crowd outside recoiled in unison. Shouts of alarm turned into screams of pure terror. Cameras dropped. They scrambled backward, tripping over each other.
Even Maxwell and his team, hidden in the shadows, stared in stunned silence.
“She installed a military-grade defense system,” one of his men whispered, awe in his voice. “That tech isn’t even legal for residential use.”
Maxwell’s face was grim. “This is just the first layer. Let’s hope we never see the others.”
Their worry for her evaporated. She was always ten steps ahead.
Isabella emerged on the second-floor balcony. A glass of wine was in her hand. She looked down at the chaotic scene below with utter indifference. She took a slow sip.
Then, a sudden thought struck her. Her eyes scanned the secured compound below.
A cold dread settled in her stomach.
She had forgotten something critical. Something important.