Two days later, Isabella faced him again.
As she closed the restaurant that night, three men blocked the exit. Christopher stepped out of a black SUV and placed a briefcase on the table.
Inside was cash.
“Take it,” he said coldly. “Sign away your inheritance and disappear. Or I make one call, and your sister’s medical career is over.”
Fear surged through her.
For a moment, she considered it.
Then she looked at the empty table by the window.
She remembered Arthur’s quiet gratitude, the trust he had placed in her.
She snapped the briefcase shut.
“Get out,” she said.
Christopher’s expression flickered—shock, then anger, then something close to fear.
The day of the shareholders’ meeting arrived.
Eighteen powerful investors filled the room. Isabella walked in wearing a simple but elegant suit, the red folder clutched in her hands.
Christopher delivered his polished speech, laying out plans to seize full control.
Then it was her turn.
“I’m just a waitress,” Isabella began, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. “But I know the difference between someone who builds something with integrity—and someone willing to destroy it.”
Christopher lunged to interrupt her, but was stopped.