Taming My Sugar Mommy
Chapter 109: The Proof

Chapter 109: The Proof

Isabella stared at the timer on her phone. Twenty-seven seconds to go. She had positioned herself in front of her laptop, shoulders squared, face carefully arranged into a mask of controlled concern. Not too desperate. Never desperate in front of David.

The video call connected with a soft electronic chime.

David’s face filled the screen, looking remarkably unchanged despite seven years of incarceration. The same sharp jawline, the same calculating eyes. Prison hadn’t aged him—if anything, he seemed more refined, like a blade that had been honed to a finer edge.

"Right on time," he said, lips curving into that familiar half-smile. "Some things never change."

Isabella didn’t return the smile. "Show me Liam."

’Don’t react. Whatever you see, don’t let him read you.’

David tilted his head slightly, studying her. "Of course. Business first, as always."

The camera panned away from David’s face, revealing a concrete room with exposed pipes running along the ceiling. The lighting was dim, casting long shadows across the floor. In the center sat Liam, bound to a metal chair with industrial zip ties. His usually immaculate appearance was disheveled—shirt torn at the collar, hair matted against his forehead. A purplish bruise bloomed along his left cheekbone, and dried blood crusted at the corner of his mouth.

Isabella’s stomach clenched, but she kept her expression neutral.

’He’s alive. Focus on that. He’s alive and conscious.’

"Isabella?" Liam’s voice was hoarse but steady. His eyes widened when he saw her, relief momentarily overtaking his features before a professional mask slipped back into place. "Don’t give him any—"

A hand appeared from offscreen, wrapping around Liam’s throat and squeezing just enough to silence him. Not David’s hand—too large, too weathered.

"That’s quite enough," David chided, as if scolding a child. The camera swung back to his face. "He’s quite loyal, your Mr. Campbell. Refused to give us any passwords, any access codes. Remarkable restraint, even when persuaded otherwise."

Isabella’s jaw tightened at the implication. "You’ve made your point. He’s alive. Now what do you want?"

’Keep him talking. The longer he monologues, the more time Diana has to trace the signal.’

David leaned closer to the camera, his eyes glittering with amusement. "I think I was quite clear earlier. The drive—the complete Lazarus architecture—in exchange for your... bodyguard." He emphasized the last word with a slight curl of his lip.

"And I’m supposed to just trust that you’ll let him go once I hand over the drive?" Isabella arched an eyebrow. "Your credibility isn’t exactly sterling, David."

He laughed, the sound eerily familiar. "Trust has never been the foundation of our relationship, Isa. We both know that." His expression sobered. "But I’m curious—does Mr. Campbell know what Lazarus really is? Does he understand what he’s been helping you refine all these years?"

The camera shifted again, focusing on Liam’s face. His eyes narrowed in confusion.

"I wonder," David continued from offscreen, "if he knows about the secondary protocols you embedded in his personal devices. The tracking algorithms. The passive monitoring systems that record his every digital interaction."

Isabella kept her face impassive, but her heart hammered against her ribs.

’He’s fishing. He can’t know about the backup tracker.’

Liam’s expression remained carefully neutral, but she could see the momentary flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

"You’re stalling," Isabella said flatly as the camera returned to David. "Give me the coordinates. You’ll get what you want."

David’s smile widened fractionally. "Always so efficient. So... ruthless." He tilted his head. "It’s what I’ve always admired about you, Isa. Even when your ruthlessness was turned against me."

Her phone vibrated once in her pocket—Diana’s signal that she was attempting to track the video call.

’Just keep him talking. Three more minutes, at least.’

"Seven years is a long time to nurse a grudge," Isabella remarked, deliberately relaxing her posture. "I’m surprised you waited this long."

"Oh, I wasn’t ready before now." David’s eyes glittered with something dangerous. "Some things require... precise timing. The right resources. The right allies." He glanced offscreen momentarily. "Speaking of allies, how is Christina? I hear she had quite the unfortunate accident today."

Isabella’s fingernails dug into her palms beneath the desk. "Coordinates, David. Now. Or this conversation is over."

David’s expression hardened for just a moment before smoothing back into pleasant neutrality. "Check your email. You have eighteen hours. Come alone, Isa." His voice dropped lower. "And bring the complete Lazarus architecture. I’ll know if you try to substitute any components."

The screen went black.

Isabella exhaled slowly, uncurling her fingers from their tight fists. Her nails had left crescent-shaped indentations in her palms.

Diana burst through the door moments later, tablet in hand. "We couldn’t get a precise location. He bounced the signal through servers in Singapore, Belarus, and Chile before it went dark." She set the tablet down, revealing a map with a glowing red circle encompassing a fifty-mile radius. "Best I could do was narrow it to this area."

Isabella studied the map grimly. Rural countryside, minimal infrastructure, at least three hours’ drive from their current location. Perfect isolation.

"He knew we’d try to trace it," she murmured. "This is just another part of his game."

’Another test. He’s always testing, always measuring responses.’

Her stomach lurched suddenly, a wave of nausea washing over her without warning. Isabella swallowed hard, fighting against the rising bile.

"Are you okay?" Diana’s brow furrowed with concern.

"Fine. Just—" Isabella bolted for the ensuite bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before emptying the contents of her stomach. She retched violently, gripping the porcelain with white-knuckled hands.

When she finished, she rested her forehead against the cool tile wall, eyes closed, breathing deeply through her nose.

’Not now. I can’t deal with this now.’

Isabella rinsed her mouth and splashed cold water on her face before returning to the main room, where Diana waited with thinly veiled concern.

"Stress," Isabella explained dismissively. "Nothing more."

Diana nodded, though her eyes remained skeptical. "Christina’s been secured at the Blackwood property. She’s insisting on joining the extraction team."

"Absolutely not." Isabella’s tone brooked no argument. "She stays put. I need her safe."

’I need someone left who knows the truth if this goes wrong.’

Isabella crossed to the wall safe hidden behind an abstract painting. The biometric lock disengaged with a soft click, revealing a small titanium case. She removed it carefully, setting it on the desk.

"The decoy," she explained, opening the case to reveal a sleek external hard drive. "Enough of the actual Lazarus architecture to convince David it’s real, with just enough corrupted code to render it useless if he tries to implement it."

Diana eyed the drive skeptically. "He said he’d know if you substituted components."

"He’s bluffing." Isabella closed the case with a decisive snap. "David’s brilliant, but he didn’t create Lazarus alone. He doesn’t know all its intricacies anymore—not after what I’ve done to it over the years."

’At least, I pray he doesn’t.’

Isabella moved to the bedroom closet, retrieving the steel case with her sidearm and the tracking-enabled phone. She checked the weapon methodically, muscle memory guiding her fingers through the process.

"What’s the play?" Diana asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"I go in alone, as instructed." Isabella secured the gun at the small of her back. "But not without backup. I want surveillance teams positioned here, here, and here." She indicated points on the map displayed on Diana’s tablet. "Far enough away to avoid detection, close enough to move in quickly if needed."

Diana nodded. "And if it is a trap?"

"It’s definitely a trap." Isabella’s voice was flat. "The question is what kind."

She crossed to her dresser, removing a small velvet pouch from the bottom drawer. From it, she extracted a delicate gold chain with a flash drive pendant—elegantly disguised as jewelry.

"If I don’t make it back..." Isabella handed the necklace to Diana. "Give this to Christina. It contains letters. Explanations. Things she’ll need to know."

Diana accepted the necklace solemnly. "You’re coming back."

Isabella didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she moved to the bathroom door, closing it firmly behind her. From beneath the sink, she retrieved a small paper bag hidden behind cleaning supplies. Inside was a pregnancy test—the second one she’d taken that day.

The two pink lines remained unmistakable.

Isabella stared at the plastic stick, a chaotic swirl of emotions churning beneath her composed exterior.

’Six weeks. Maybe seven.’

She returned the test to its hiding place and rejoined Diana in the main room.

"I’m coming back," she confirmed, voice hardening with resolve. "But David isn’t walking away from this. Not again." She paused, meeting Diana’s gaze directly. "Whatever happens at that meeting point, whatever you hear or see—do not engage unless I give the signal. Is that clear?"

Diana nodded reluctantly. "Crystal."

Isabella picked up the titanium case containing the decoy drive, her expression shifting into cool determination.

"David thinks he’s orchestrating some grand reunion," she said quietly. "But he’s forgotten one important detail."

"What’s that?" Diana asked.

Isabella’s lips curved into a thin, dangerous smile. "I’m not the same woman he left behind seven years ago."

She checked her watch. Seventeen hours and twenty-six minutes until the deadline.

Seventeen hours to prepare for a confrontation that would finally end the shadow David had cast over her life.

’For Liam. For the company. For the life growing inside me that he must never know about.’

Isabella squared her shoulders and began to plan.

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