Chapter 7 Graveyard Digging

• Izzy slammed the folder shut with a sharp snap that echoed across the new office. Her nails dug crescent moons into the leather armrest as she stared blankly ahead. Her breathing slowed, shallow, mechanical. A wire had snapped behind her eyes.
• The transaction was dated eight months ago.
• That was after Nolan had supposedly died.
• That was also about when Yves Rodriguez sent a fat stack of hush money into an account tied to Nolan.
• Her brother. The one she buried. The one she mourned.
• Her fist clenched as she stared at the note paperclipped to the transaction receipt, scrawled with Yves’ sharp, angular writing.
• ‘Retainer fee. N.K.’
• Retainer. For what? Silence? Protection? Betrayal?
• She paced, teeth grinding.
• Her brother was somehow involved with Yves Rodriguez? It was surprising how she had been connected to Yves longer than she thought.
• Eight months ago, Yves wired a money transaction worth $200,000 to Nolan's account. What the hell was Nolan up to?!
• Her brother hadn't died a year ago?
• “Coward,” she whispered.
• Still, it wasn't enough proof. Not yet. Anyone could forge a transaction or manipulate records. But the folder offered her more than rage—it gave her direction.
• The file also revealed that her father had attended an exclusive event just a night before his so-called heart attack. Guests included high-level stakeholders, investors, board members... and Thomas Rodriguez.
• Coincidence?
• She didn’t believe in those anymore.
• She grabbed her phone and dialled without blinking. Liam watched her, clueless as a baby ever could be.
• “Ben. I need you.”
• “Already at your door,” Ben replied over the phone.
• Izzy hung up. she dialed another number, ringing for a few seconds before someone picked up the call. “Hello?” A deep voice spoke through.
• “Marcus? Bring your shovel.”
• ---
• Fifteen minutes later, she was at the elevator, heels sharp, coat flaring like a cloak of war. Liam, of course, had the unfortunate timing to intercept her halfway down.
• “Where the hell are you going now?” he asked, blocking her path like a boulder in a dress shirt.
• “Graveyard”, she said coolly.
• He blinked. “What?”
• “I’m digging up my brother.”
• “Jesus, Izzy—you can’t just—that’s illegal! And insane. You can’t keep doing this! You’re not God—"
• “No,” she cut him off, stepping forward until their noses nearly touched. “But I am the closest thing to justice he’ll ever get.”
• He grabbed her arm. “This is impulse talking.”
• She pulled him close, like she was about to slap him.
• Instead, she clashed her lips on him and kissed him.
• Soft. Quick. Stunning. And definitely, breathtaking as their tongues rolled in rhythm.
• His grip loosened, melting into a kiss that wasn't meant to happen.
• The world blurred, keeping the two of them in a forbidden moment as the unknown working crowd gathered at the sight of their new CEO, kissing, or rather, making out with the former CEO of the company.
• Scandalous, isn't it?
• She whispered against his lips, “Good pup. Now, stay in your place.”
• And then she was gone, coat trailing behind her like smoke.
• Liam stood still, stunned, for a full thirty seconds before cursing under his breath.
• Did I just—did she just… did I just get my mouth shut with a kiss? Gosh, she's the death of me.
• “Lila!” he called.
• From the side hallway, a woman appeared. Ginger curls bounced in a messy bun as sharp blue eyes landed on him. Lila, his assistant, analyst, and sometimes verbal sparring partner.
• “Here, listening, and active. Lila reporting for duty,” she said, sipping from a mug labeled I Eat CEOs… underneath was a small set of letters written in italics, except from Mr Liam, of course. A custom-made mug.
• “I need you to follow Izzy. Stay back, and don’t let her see you.”
• “You mean spy on your wife?”
• “Temporary wife or dangerous lunatic. Take your pick.”
• Lila grinned. “Copy that, boss.”
• ---
• At 2:33 AM, in the shadowy quiet of Woodmere Cemetery, the ground cracked open.
• Marcus, a honey skin-coloured man with messy black hair, grunted with effort as his shovel split damp soil. Ben stood nearby, phone flashlight aimed like a spotlight.
• Izzy stood over them, wrapped in black. No heels tonight. Combat boots and a trench coat. Her breath steamed in the cold. Her silence was a weapon.
• They reached the coffin after thirty minutes of work.
• Marcus brushed the dirt from the lid; the metal edges had rusted slightly.
• Izzy inhaled slowly, deeply. “If you’re really dead, Nolan, I’m sorry for this.”
• Ben looked up. “And if he’s not?”
• She didn’t answer. Part of her wished he was dead; part wished he wasn't. The part that still longed for a close living sibling.
• They pried the coffin open with a crowbar.
• The stench hit first.
• It was like death soaked in vinegar and rot. Sharp, sour, and wrong. Marcus gagged, stumbling back.
• Izzy coughed, pulling her coat collar over her nose. And Ben looked unbothered.
• Inside, the body lay wrapped, decomposed but intact enough. Skin waxy. Clothes faded. The face half-collapsed from decay.
• But it was a body.
• A real one.
• She took a shaky step forward to take a closer look. She froze for a second and then squinted her eyes, forming a crescent eye shape. The body was decomposed, surely. And Izzy couldn't recognise whether it's Nolan's or not.
• But still, his coffin was not empty. She did bury someone in there.
• Furrowing her eyebrows, she signalled to Ben to carry out the body.
• They're running a forensic analysis. She must know if it's Nolan or not. She needed an answer.
• And also another answer to the question of why on earth did Liam put a tail on her, as if she wouldn't notice?