Isabella’s whisper was almost silent.
“Got him.”
Navarro’s eyes narrowed. He recognized her face.
“You…” His glass slipped. “You’re the daughter.”
He lunged.
Isabella moved—fast, trained, furious. She dodged, shoved him into his own desk hard enough to rattle glass.
“Now!” she shouted.
The doors exploded open—not bodyguards.
Federal agents.
Edward.
And journalists broadcasting live.
Navarro’s confession played over the ballroom speakers. A room full of donors listened to murder admitted like a joke.
Navarro hit the floor in handcuffs, screaming.
Edward held Isabella, and they cried—not from weakness, but from a wound finally given a name.
Part 7 — The Life She Gained
The Castellanos fell apart exactly the way they feared: publicly.
Ryan ended up working valet shifts downtown.
Martha and Arthur lost the mansion and lived in a rented place society didn’t photograph.
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