Chapter 24 The Billionaire's Scandal

• The penthouse felt like a war room—security guards posted at every corner, the hum of surveillance feeds filling the silence. Isabella sat on the couch, a blanket draped over her lap, her hands restless as she replayed the crash: the brakes failing, Tony’s shout, the truck’s horn blaring. Her fingers brushed her belly, the baby’s faint kick a fragile anchor. The photo Max had shown her—She’s next—loomed in her mind, red ink like a bloodstain.
• Max burst in, his coat streaked with rain, gray eyes burning with fury. “The mechanic’s report came back,” he said, slamming a folder onto the coffee table. “Brake lines were sliced—professional job. Alex might be locked up, but this wasn’t just him.”
• Isabella’s breath hitched. “Gerald?”