Page 52 of The Forbidden Billionaire Attorney

“Spices things up, I guess,” she says dryly.

“Right,” I say, standing up with a renewed sense of purpose. “Don’t mean to cut this off early, but I should get going. Got a traitor to catch and a baby daddy to inform. You know, just another day in the life of Isabella King.”

Chapter twenty

Adrian

“Do you think she’ll like them, Dad?” Caleb’s practically vibrating with excitement, clutching the box of cupcakes like it’s the last lifeboat on the Titanic. He picked them out himself, a celebratory treat for the gender reveal that’ll be taking place any minute now.

“Isabella’s got a sweet tooth that could rival Willy Wonka’s,” I assure him, ruffling his hair. “You did good, kiddo.”

The doorbell chimes and Caleb dashes off, leaving me to open the door. There stands Isabella, but she’s not her usual firecracker self. It’s like someone sucked the air out of her, left her standing tense and wound up tighter than a coil. Something’s brewing; I can tell.

“Hey,” I start, but she cuts through it like a hot knife through butter.

“We need to talk,” she says, and damn if those words don’t send a shiver down my spine. They’re never followed by anything good.

“Sure,” I say, keeping my voice even. I gesture toward Caleb, who’s eyeing us with an unease that mirrors the tightness in my chest. “Buddy, why don’t you go finish your math homework. In my office.”

“Okay, Dad,” is all he says before he slinks away.

Isabella and I sit, and I brace for impact. She’s a hurricane in a pencil skirt, and I’m pretty sure we’re heading straight into the eye.

Isabella perches on the edge of the couch, her fingers laced so tight they’re bloodless. I lean back in my armchair, trying to appear calm despite the fact that my stomach is doing flips. Her eyes—usually vibrant—are clouded over with worry.

“I think Leo is the one who leaked the confidential documents,” she says, each word dropping like a lead weight into the silence.

The room spins for a second, and I swear I can hear the distant sound of my trust in people shattering. Leo? He’s practically an institution around here, as much a part of the firm as the gilded scales of justice hanging in the lobby.

“Come again?” My voice sounds foreign, like it belongs to some other guy who hasn’t just had his world rocked.

She repeats herself, slower this time, as if that might help the absurdity of her claim make sense. “I overheard him. A conversation between Leo and another man. They were discussing a plot to sabotage the firm. To hand over the merger ...”

“Stop.” I hold up a hand, the other balling into a fist. “You’re telling me that Leo, the man who practically helped raise me, is now our own Benedict Arnold?”

Her nod is slow, deliberate. “I know how it sounds—”

“Like a conspiracy theory.” I cut her off, not ready to entertain this scenario where Leo goes from mentor to menace. “You have to be mistaken,” I say, trying to keep the frustration from boiling over. I run a hand through my hair, which probably looks like I’ve been caught in a wind tunnel now. “Look, Leo’s got more loyalty in his pinky than most have in their entire body. He was my father’s right-hand man.”

“Adrian,” Isabella starts, but I’m already shaking my head.

“Leowouldn’t do that. He’s been with me through every high and low tide this firm has seen. Hell, he’s the steadfast ship in the storm.”

“Adrian—” She tries again, but I’m on a roll.

“Always had my back. Even sat through every single one of Caleb’s school plays—and let me tell you, those are a test of endurance.”

“Adrian!” she snaps, finally snatching my runaway train of denial off the tracks. “I saw what I saw. Heard what I heard.”

I study her face, searching for any hint that this is all some elaborate prank. But nope, there’s only the grim set of her jaw, the earnest plea in those usually fiery eyes now dimmed by concern. It’s enough to make me want to believe her, but doing so means admitting to a betrayal that cuts deep. Too deep.

“Isabella,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, “if you’re wrong about this … we’re talking decades of trust between Leo and my family here.”

I lean back against the couch, arms crossed as if they could shield me from Isabella’s next volley of words. The cupcakes sit forgotten on the counter, their cheerful sprinkles mocking us.

“I know he’s been loyal to you, but that doesn’t mean he’s not capable of betrayal.”

The air feels thick, like I’m trying to breathe underwater. Her words hit a nerve, and it’s like an electric current zaps straight through me.

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