Filed To Story: Watch Out! She's a Mastermind Heiress (Isabella Patton) Book PDF Free
The study contained just a single chair, yet neither Isabella nor Denby chose to occupy it.
Denby approached the bookshelf before turning to face Isabella, who stood poised in the room’s center.
“Isabella, can you do me a favor?”
“What kind of favor?” Isabella stepped forward eagerly.
“Please, just tell me.”
Denby gestured toward a section of the bookshelf.
“Would you help me remove this rack?”
“Okay.”
Isabella followed Denby’s indication, studying the specified area with careful attention. The rectangular rack was a masterpiece of subtlety, beautifully crafted yet understated. Had Denby not revealed it was a movable rack, Isabella would have never guessed it was a detachable component of the larger bookshelf.
Without pressing for explanations, Isabella set about the task at hand. As she studied the wooden rack, she discovered an intricate system of joinery—a puzzle of sorts that would require both mental acuity and physical dexterity to disassemble.
Isabella dove into the challenge with focused determination.
Throughout her examination, Denby observed her with measured patience, his hands clasped behind his back. He neither rushed nor interrupted her process.
The study fell into a contemplative silence, broken only by the occasional soft click and scrape of wood against wood as Isabella worked.
After ten minutes of careful manipulation, she finally unraveled the last of the rack’s clever mechanisms.
Setting the mechanism down, Isabella was just about to lift both hands to take down the rack. But the moment she applied force, the rack didn’t budge. Instead, something seemed to trigger, and with a series of mechanical sounds, the entire structure began retracting to both sides.
As the wooden shelf slid apart, a sleek display panel emerged, lined with an impressive collection of accolades and honors.
Isabella’s eyes widened at the sight of the awards hanging before her. Only then did she fully grasp the weight of Denby’s contributions to both the country and society—how much he had done, how deeply he deserved her respect.
“Denby, these are all yours? You are incredible!” Isabella couldn’t stop herself from exclaiming. She wasn’t slow on the uptake. Since Denby had allowed her to dismantle the wooden rack, he clearly had no qualms about her taking a closer look at what lay behind it.
As she studied the display, Denby remained silent, simply waiting. It wasn’t until her gaze landed on a small badge tucked away in the corner—one that bore a distinct symbol of rank—that she froze. Her breath caught as she rubbed her eyes and leaned in for a better look.
The letters embossed on the badge’s edges were “Qiviut Organization.” This was…
A shocking realization struck Isabella like a bolt of lightning. She turned swiftly, needing to confirm what was now dawning on her. As soon as she lifted her head, she met Denby’s calm, unwavering gaze.
“Denby?” Her voice was hesitant, laced with uncertainty.
Denby gave a small nod—a silent confirmation.
Isabella’s eyes widened slightly, her mind racing with astonishment. She had been part of the Qiviut Organization long enough to understand its rigid hierarchy, its strict discipline.
Her world within it was small. She only knew those she trained and completed missions with, along with the superiors who assigned them tasks. Direct communication beyond that was unheard of.
Never—not in her wildest imagination—did she think she would one day stand face-to-face with the leader of the organization. And yet, here he was, recognizing her first.
The realization hit her like a tidal wave. In an instant, her posture straightened.
“Mr. Thatcher!”
She snapped into formality, giving Denby a crisp, precise salute.
Denby raised a hand, a silent gesture for her to lower hers.
“You can still call me Denby. I’m not your direct superior. This conversation isn’t about official matters.”
Then what was it about? The question stirred in Isabella’s mind.
Denby spoke again, as if reading her thoughts.
“Qiviut Organization is the most specialized division under my command. You are one of the best operatives in the mission department—I recognized you the moment I saw you. I’m revealing my identity to you because it is necessary. Andrew brought you to me, which means you are already aware of the situation surrounding his mother and me. So I want to lay everything out for you, so you can grasp the full picture. There are certain things I’ve never even shared with Andrew.”
At that, Isabella’s expression turned serious.
“Denby, please continue.”
Denby’s voice was steady, measured.
“For years, Andrew and his paternal grandfather believed his mother died because the mission was too dangerous. But that isn’t the truth. I know my daughter. I raised her. That mission wouldn’t have been enough to take her down. There had to be another reason for the incident. I have spent years investigating, relentlessly pursuing the truth. And now, I finally have leads…”
Isabella listened intently, her brows drawing together in thought.
On one hand, she was struck by the sheer difficulty of Denby’s long, exhausting investigation. On the other, she hadn’t expected Andrew’s mother’s death to have a deeper, hidden layer to it.
She couldn’t interfere with Denby’s investigation. But after a moment, she asked, “Why didn’t you tell Andrew the truth about his mother’s death?”
Denby let out a slow sigh.
“Of course, I know I should tell him. But aside from my responsibilities, I am also a father and a grandfather. Before she died, his mother made one thing clear—she didn’t want Andrew to be caught in the same dangers. I made the choice to keep the truth from him. And even without knowing, he has still become the man he is today. But knowing his personality—if he had known the truth back then, what do you think he would have done?”
Isabella thought of the Andrew she once knew—far less steady, far more impulsive.
Even just believing his mother had died on a mission had already driven him to take on the weight of her unfinished work, pushing himself through grueling training, throwing himself into missions alone while still in his teens.
If he had known the full truth—if rage had consumed him… there was no telling what reckless path he might have taken.
Isabella fell silent, the weight of the revelation settling over her. But after a while, another thought surfaced in her mind.
“Do I need to tell him about my role in the Qiviut Organization?”
“No need,” Denby said immediately.
“My revealing my identity to you today was an exception. Let Andrew find things out in his own time. There is no need for you to burden yourself with forcing anything.”
“Understood.” Isabella gave a firm nod. Today, she had learned more than she ever expected. And right now, her mind was a tangled mess, trying to sort through it all.
Denby had revealed his secrets to Isabella, not for the sake of mere confession, but with the hope that she would take a broader perspective—one that would allow her to keep a watchful eye on Andrew whenever he made reckless choices in the future.
Isabella studied Denby in silence before responding with quiet resolve, “Denby, like you, I don’t want Andrew to be in danger. But I love him, and I respect him just as much. If something is truly what he wants, I won’t stand in his way—I’ll stand beside him and face it with him!”
As her words settled in the air, she braced herself for disapproval. Surely, Denby would find her naive. But instead of reprimanding her, he remained silent. Yet, in his eyes, she saw unmistakable appreciation.
Without a word, Denby reached into a drawer and retrieved a small, timeworn box. He placed it in her hands.
“This was left behind by Andrew’s mother before she passed. Since you’re here, it’s only right that I give it to you. She always intended for you to have it. Don’t refuse.”
When Isabella instinctively opened her mouth to protest, Denby stopped her with a firm look. She had no choice but to accept. Carefully, she lifted the lid. Nestled inside was a rare and breathtaking red jade.
Its luster was deep and rich, as if it were imbued with life itself. She brushed her fingers over the stone, startled by the warmth it still held. Isabella shut the box gently and held it close.
“Denby, don’t worry. I’ll keep it safe.”
“Good. It belongs to you now.”
As they stepped out of the study, they found Andrew waiting outside, his expression dark with displeasure.
Denby’s brows furrowed as he shot his grandson a glare.
“What’s with that sour face? I just spoke with Isabella for a while, and you’re already sulking? She’s your fianc?e, not your prisoner!”
Denby was a man of unwavering reliability, but his words often carried a sharp edge.
Though his remark was meant to be teasing, his stern tone made it feel like a reprimand.
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