Taming My Sugar Mommy
Chapter 73: Richard Ashworth

Chapter 73: Richard Ashworth

The SUV carrying Isabella finally slowed after nearly two hours of driving. Through the tinted windows, she glimpsed a sprawling compound emerging from dense woodland—a modernist structure of glass and concrete that seemed to both blend with and defy its natural surroundings. Security cameras dotted the perimeter, their lenses tracking the vehicle’s approach.

The SUV pulled into an underground garage, fluorescent lights flickering overhead as the engine died. Isabella remained still, her handcuffed wrists resting in her lap, face betraying nothing as the door beside her opened.

"We’ve arrived," Marcus said flatly, reaching in to help her out of the vehicle.

Isabella fixed him with a cold stare. "Is this an arrest, Marcus? Because it doesn’t look like we’re at police headquarters. This doesn’t even look like government property."

When he didn’t respond, she continued, her voice gaining an edge. "Ten years, Marcus. Ten years you’ve worked for me. I trusted you with my life. I saw you on the street that day, with nothing and no one. I took you in, gave you purpose." She searched his face for any reaction. "And this is how you repay loyalty? With betrayal?"

Marcus’s expression remained stoic, though something flickered in his eyes—discomfort, perhaps, or doubt. Still, he said nothing as he guided her through a series of security doors, each requiring biometric confirmation.

"Silent treatment? That’s beneath you," Isabella pressed. "At least tell me who you’re working for. You owe me that much."

They entered a long corridor lined with abstract paintings—originals, Isabella noted, not reproductions. Expensive taste. The air carried the subtle scent of sandalwood and something else... familiar, though she couldn’t place it.

Marcus stopped before a heavy oak door, his hand hovering over the handle. For the first time since her arrest, he met her gaze directly.

"I never wanted it to come to this," he said quietly. "But there are things at play here that you don’t understand." He pushed open the door, gesturing for her to enter. "He’s waiting for you."

The room beyond was spacious and tastefully appointed with mid-century modern furniture, large windows overlooking a manicured garden. At the center stood a large desk, behind which a high-backed leather chair faced away from them, toward the night-darkened landscape outside.

"Isabella Ashworth," came a voice from the chair, deep and cultured with the hint of an accent. "Please, have a seat."

The voice sent a jolt of recognition through her, though she couldn’t immediately place it. Isabella remained standing, defiant despite her restraints.

"I prefer to stand, considering I’ve been sitting in that SUV for two hours," her voice was steady, revealing none of the calculations racing through her mind. "Perhaps you could extend the courtesy of facing me while we talk."

A soft chuckle came from the chair. "Still demanding, even when at a disadvantage. Some things never change."

The chair slowly swiveled around, revealing an elderly man with piercing blue eyes and a full head of silver-white hair. His face bore the distinguished lines of age, but his posture remained commanding, hands steepled before him on the polished desk.

Isabella’s composure cracked for the first time, her eyes widening in shock as recognition dawned. "Uncle?"

Richard Ashworth—her father’s older brother, presumed dead for fifteen years—smiled thinly. "Hello, Isabella. It’s been far too long."

**

In the city, Christina’s car continued following Isabella’s tracking signal at a safe distance. Liam studied the tablet, watching the blinking red dot that had now stopped moving at a location deep in the countryside.

"She’s stationary," he observed. "Has been for the past fifteen minutes."

Christina nodded, wincing slightly as she shifted position. "The transmitter should activate soon, giving us audio."

Liam set the tablet down, turning to face her. "There’s something I don’t understand. Why do you know about this tracker, but Marcus didn’t? He was Isabella’s first bodyguard, right? Her head of security."

Christina’s eyes remained fixed on the road ahead. "Isabella doesn’t trust anyone completely. Not after what happened to her father." Her fingers tightened on the tablet. "Different people know different pieces of her contingency plans, but no one except Isabella knows the whole picture."

’She’s deflecting,’ Liam thought, studying her carefully. The bruising along her jawline had darkened since earlier, creating stark contrast against her pale skin.

"That doesn’t answer my question," Liam pressed, his voice gentle but insistent. "Why you and not Marcus?"

Christina sighed, her shoulders dropping slightly. "The tracker was implanted three years ago, after she was almost kidnapped in San Francisco. Marcus was... inexplicably absent that day."

"Absent?" Liam’s brow furrowed. "During an attempted kidnapping?"

"He had been called away on what turned out to be false information," Christina explained, her voice hardening at the memory. "I was with her instead. They came out of nowhere—three men, professionally trained. I stood by her, fought back. Nearly got killed in the process." She unconsciously touched a small scar near her collarbone. "After that incident, Isabella didn’t take any chances. The tracker was her insurance policy, and I was the only one she trusted with that information."

Liam leaned back against the leather seat, processing this information. The pieces didn’t quite fit together—Marcus’s apparent betrayal, Christina’s careful answers, Isabella’s complex contingencies.

"You and Marcus were close, weren’t you?" Liam asked, watching her reaction closely. "How did you not see this coming? Did he ever indicate he might turn on her?"

Christina shook her head emphatically, finally turning to face Liam directly. "Marcus is intimidating, sometimes even scary to others, but not to me. Not to Isabella—at least, I didn’t think so. This betrayal doesn’t make sense." A slight flush colored her cheeks. "We’ve seen each other often, you know, but we’re not dating or anything formal. It’s more... complicated."

Liam caught the slip, his mind instantly replaying a memory—returning from the charity auction with Isabella, asking Christina if everything was alright as they entered the penthouse. Her dismissive "It’s nothing" even as her eyes darted nervously toward the kitchen.

"That night after the auction," Liam said slowly. "When Isabella and I came back... that was the day you and Marcus..."

A smile touched Christina’s lips, both embarrassed and unrepentant. "Yes. Not our finest moment, using the kitchen after hours."

’That explains the tension that night,’ Liam thought. ’But raises more questions than it answers.’

The air in the car seemed to thicken with unspoken suspicions. If Marcus and Christina had been involved, was she truly surprised by his betrayal? Or was there something deeper happening—a performance for Liam’s benefit?

"Christina," Liam began carefully, "if you and Marcus were that close, is there any chance he confided in you? Any hint about what might be happening now?"

Her expression hardened slightly. "You’re asking if I’m involved in this?"

"I’m asking for information," Liam clarified. "Anything that might help us understand what we’re walking into."

Christina’s hand moved to her injured ribs, a subtle reminder of the attack she’d suffered. "If I were working with them, would I have ended up like this? Would I be here with you now, tracking Isabella?"

"I don’t know," Liam admitted. "This whole situation is layers deep in deception. I’m just trying to see the full picture."

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft hum of the car’s engine and the occasional update from the tablet tracking Isabella’s location.

"Marcus changed about a month ago," Christina finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Became distant, secretive. I assumed it was work pressure—Isabella’s Singapore acquisition was causing security headaches. But there was one night..."

Liam waited as Christina seemed to wrestle with whether to continue.

"I found him in Isabella’s office after hours, accessing her private server. He claimed he was running a security audit, but when I asked Isabella about it the next day, she knew nothing about any audit." Christina’s eyes darkened with the memory. "I confronted him, and he told me to forget what I’d seen. Said it was better for everyone that way."

"And you didn’t tell Isabella?" Liam asked, unable to keep the disbelief from his voice.

Christina’s lips pressed into a thin line. "I tried. The next day, she was already in Singapore. When she returned, Marcus was constantly by her side. Then the video leaked, everything accelerated, and here we are." She met Liam’s eyes directly. "I should have pushed harder. This is partly my fault."

Liam considered whether to believe her. The guilt in her eyes seemed genuine, but in his experience, the most convincing lies contained elements of truth.

"We’re approaching the compound perimeter," the driver announced, interrupting his thoughts. "Satellite imagery shows extensive security systems. We can’t get closer without risking detection."

Christina straightened, professional mask sliding back into place. "Maintain distance. We wait for the signal."

The tablet on Liam’s lap suddenly came to life with a soft beep. A new icon appeared alongside the tracking dot—a microphone, pulsing green.

"Audio’s live," Christina said, her voice dropping to a whisper as if those on the other end might somehow hear them. "Let’s find out who we’re dealing with."

They leaned forward together as a voice emerged from the tablet’s speakers—elderly, cultured, and utterly unexpected.

"Hello, Isabella. It’s been far too long."