The basement of the Walton Estate was a world away from the obsidian and ebony of the boardroom. Here, the air was cool, smelling of gun oil, server racks, and the faint, sharp scent of peppermint tea.
This was Jax's domain, the nerve center of my father's private security, buried beneath three feet of reinforced concrete. Jax didn't look like a bodyguard. He didn't have the hulking, neckless silhouette of the men Silas hired. He was lean, with salt and pepper hair cropped close to his skull and eyes that moved like a high speed scanner.
He had been my shadow since I was six years old, the man who taught me how to throw a punch before I knew how to apply mascara. "You signed it," Jax said, not looking up from a bank of monitors.
"I didn't have a choice, Jax. It was either I sign or I hand Lucian the keys to the kingdom." I sat on the edge of a steel table, my heels clicking against the metal. "He's already measuring the drapes for my father's office."
Jax finally turned, sliding a thick, manila envelope across the desk. "I've been compiling the Five Families dossiers since your father first drafted the succession plan. You need to know what you're walking into. These aren't just businessmen, Isabel. They're dynasts. And some of them are monsters."
I opened the file. The first page was a high resolution photo of Sterling Koch. He was perfectly symmetrical, his Ivy League haircut not having a single strand out of place.
"Sterling Koch," Jax narrated, his voice clinical. "Old money, New England. He's a machine. He views human beings as variables in an equation. He fires staff if they breathe too loudly in the hallway."
I flipped the page. Alistair Thomson, the King of the North. He stood in front of a Canadian pine forest, looking rugged and indomitable. "Thomson is a predator," Jax warned. "He likes to hunt. He treats women like trophies to be mounted on a wall."
Then came Julien Arnault. He was draped in a silk scarf, looking bored at a fashion show in Paris. "A narcissist. He doesn't want a wife; he wants a Muse he can mold and then discard."
I moved to Vikram Ambani, his face was surprisingly gentle, and finally landed on Kenji Son. The legitimate heir. He was photographed at a Ginza nightclub, champagne spray catching the light. He looked entitled, cruel, and deeply, dangerously arrogant.
"That's the list," Jax said, leaning back. "Five families. Five heirs. One of them is supposed to be your future." I closed the folder with a heavy snap.
"None of them, Jax. I can't marry any of them. If I show up as the Walton Heiress, they'll give me a rehearsed performance. I'll be buying a life sentence of deception."
"So what's the plan?" Jax asked, his eyes narrowing. "You have a look in your eye that usually involves me getting a headache."
"I'm going on the tour," I said, standing up. "But not as Isabel Walton. I'm going as a maid. A commoner. Someone they won't bother to hide their true selves from."
Jax was silent for a long beat. "Your father will never allow it. Silas's proxies are already looking for ways to sabotage you. If you're out there without a detail..."
"That's why you're coming with me," I countered. "You'll be my handler. We'll find a way to embed you in their security or service staff. I need to see their ugly sides, Jax. I need to know who is a man and who is just a suit."
Thirty minutes later, I was back in my father's study. My father was staring at a portrait of my mother, his back to me. "Father," I said softly.
"I heard your proposal through Jax," he said, not turning around. "It's madness, Isabel. To go into the homes of our competitors disguised as a servant? It's humiliating."
"What's more humiliating, Father? Scrubbing a floor, or spending fifty years married to a man who only loves my bank account?" I walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "How can I lead this empire if I don't know the character of the people I'm allied with?"
He turned, and for a second, I saw the proud, sharp man he used to be. "You have your mother's stubbornness. She always said the view from the ground was clearer than the view from the penthouse."
"Let me do this," I pleaded. "Nineteen days with each family. Jax will be with me every step of the way. I'll return on the 96th day."
He sighed, a long, rattling sound. "Fine. But the moment Jax signals danger, the tour ends. And Isabel..." He reached out, cupping my cheek. "Don't lose yourself in the role. You are a Queen. Never forget that, even when you're holding a broom."
I hugged him, smelling the familiar scent of sandalwood. "I won't, Father. I promise."
I walked out of the study and found Jax waiting in the hall. He held a small, black burner phone and a pair of generic, heavy duty work boots.
"The first stop is the Koch Estate in Connecticut," Jax said. "I've already falsified the employment records. You are Isa, a girl from a foster home with a clean background. You start tomorrow at 6:00 AM."
I took the boots. They were heavy, clunky, and utterly unglamorous. I went to my room and stood before the full length mirror. I picked up a pair of heavy shears. With a steady hand, I hacked through the long, chestnut waves that had been my signature. The hair fell to the floor in silk heaps, leaving me with a jagged, practical bob.
I put on a plain grey hoodie and heavy boots. I looked into the mirror and didn't see a billionaire. I saw a girl who was finally going to see the world for what it really was.
But as I stared at my reflection, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. An unknown number. I picked it up. A single text message sat on the screen.
The mouse shouldn't play in the lion's den. I'm watching you, cousin.
I deleted the message, my jaw tightening. The game hadn't even started, and the first predator was already on my scent.