All Chapters of The Last Blueprint: Chapter 41
- Chapter 50
95 chapters
The Aftermath (One Week Later)
The headline appeared in every major newspaper: "Real Estate Mogul William Cross Charged with 30-Year-Old Murder." Below it, a subheading that made Isabelle's stomach turn: "Harrington Foundation Tied to Conspiracy—Was Marcus Harrington Complicit?"She stared at the paper spread across the dining table, unable to eat the breakfast that had long since gone cold. The estate felt cavernous around her. Every room echoed. Every hallway reminded her of Ethan.His room in the guest wing sat empty, bed stripped, closet bare. He'd taken everything in under an hour, methodical and thorough, erasing himself from the estate like he'd never been there at all.Isabelle had tried calling. Seventeen times in the first three days. Every call went to voicemail. Every text went unanswered. By day four, she'd stopped trying.He was staying at Derek's apartment in the city. She knew because Derek had told her, though he'd also made it clear Ethan had forbidden him from sharing anything more."He needs spa
The Gala & The Mistake
The Plaza Hotel ballroom glittered with crystal and champagne and carefully curated judgment. Isabelle stood in the foyer in a black gown that was meant to convey grief but looked like mourning, watching photographers and reporters mill about like vultures circling wounded prey.She'd chosen the dress deliberately. Black, simple, no jewelry, no attempt to dazzle. She was here as a Harrington in crisis, and there was no point pretending otherwise.The moment she entered the main ballroom, the whispers started. Not subtle. Not polite. Loud enough that she was meant to hear them."Is that Isabelle Harrington?""The one whose family murdered Thomas Cole?""I heard her grandfather covered it up for thirty years."A reporter spotted her and rushed over, microphone leading the way. "Miss Harrington, will you be resigning from the foundation board?""Miss Harrington, where's Ethan Cole tonight? Why isn't he standing by his fiancée?""Do you regret protecting your uncle? Do you regret lying to
The Morning After
Isabelle woke first, early morning light filtering through the curtains. For a moment, still half-asleep, she didn't understand why there was someone else in her bed. Then she saw Derek's face on the pillow beside hers, and reality crashed back with nauseating clarity.*Oh God.*She sat up slowly, carefully, trying not to wake him. The sheets were tangled around their bodies, evidence of what they'd done. What they'd both done. Her dress from last night lay crumpled on the floor. His tuxedo jacket was draped over the chair.*What have I done?*The horror was immediate and all-consuming. She'd slept with Derek. Ethan's best friend. The night after the foundation gala. The night after giving a public apology for her family's crimes.Isabelle climbed out of bed, wrapping the sheet around herself, and stumbled to the bathroom. She caught her reflection in the mirror—smudged makeup, sex-tangled hair, the face of someone who'd made a catastrophic mistake.Behind her, Derek stirred. By the t
Separate Lives (Two Weeks Later)
The prosecutor's office had become Ethan's second home. He arrived at dawn, left after midnight, existed in a fog of documents and depositions and the cold satisfaction of building an airtight case against William Cross."You need to sleep," Janet Reyes told him for the thousandth time, sliding a contract across his desk. "The trial isn't for three months. We have time.""We don't have time." Ethan highlighted another discrepancy in Cross's financial records. "Cross's lawyers are already filing motions to dismiss. They're claiming Richard Harrington acted alone and Marcus was just covering for family.""That's what they always claim.""Then we prove it's a lie." Ethan's voice was flat, robotic. Professional. "We build the case so solid they can't find a crack."Derek worked beside him, pulling files and organizing testimony. But every time their eyes met, Ethan saw something Derek was trying to hide. Guilt. Shame. Something that didn't fit the narrative of loyal best friend supporting
The Symptoms Begin (Four Weeks Post-The Night Before The Fall)
Isabelle woke at 4:47 AM with her stomach roiling. She barely made it to the bathroom before the nausea overwhelmed her.She vomited for twenty minutes straight—violent, relentless heaving that left her shaking and weak. When it finally stopped, she sat on the cold tile floor of the bathroom, her skin clammy, her heart racing.This wasn't stress-induced nausea. This was something different. Something physical and undeniable.She made it back to bed but couldn't sleep. Her stomach felt raw. Her head pounded. She lay there until dawn, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince herself it was food poisoning. Or the flu. Or anything except what her body was starting to whisper.By Wednesday, the pattern was clear.The nausea returned every morning—worse some days than others, but always there. She couldn't look at her favorite foods without gagging. The smell of coffee, usually comforting, made her stomach turn. Even walking past the kitchen sometimes triggered waves of dizziness.Her per
The test
Isabelle drove forty minutes away from Manhattan to a pharmacy in a strip mall in Queens where no one would recognize her. She wore sunglasses and a baseball cap—paranoid, probably, but she couldn't afford recognition, couldn't afford questions.She bought three pregnancy tests, paid cash, and left without making eye contact with the clerk.The drive back felt both endless and too short. By the time she reached the estate, her hands were shaking so badly she could barely grip the steering wheel.In her private bathroom, door locked, she tore open the first box with trembling fingers.The instructions blurred. Pee on the stick, wait three minutes, two lines means positive.She sat on the toilet, legs shaking, and waited.One minute passed, then two. At the three-minute mark, she looked down.The two lines were clear and unmistakable.Isabelle stared at the stick like it might change if she looked long enough. Like the universe might reverse itself and erase what she was seeing.But the
Telling Derek (The Irony)
The café in Williamsburg was the kind of place where nobody from Manhattan would ever venture. Derek was already seated in a corner booth when Isabelle arrived, nursing black coffee and looking like he was bracing for bad news.Which he was about to get.Isabelle slid into the seat across from him, and his concern deepened immediately."What's wrong?" he asked. "You look terrible.""I need to tell you something." Isabelle kept her voice low, aware of the few scattered customers around them. "And I need you to listen without panicking.""You're scaring me.""I'm pregnant."Derek's face went white. His coffee cup froze halfway to his lips. For a moment, he just stared at her while the implication crashed over him like a wave.*Oh God. Is it mine?*The question hung in the air between them, unspoken but deafening."Are you sure?" His voice came out tight, strangled."Yes. Five weeks. I've done the math." Isabelle's hands were folded on the table, trembling slightly. "It's from the night
Ethan's Reaction (The Setup)
Derek found Ethan in the prosecutor's office at 6:47 PM on a Thursday, surrounded by the usual chaos of documents and case files. Ethan was reviewing testimony transcripts, his eyes tired behind wire-rimmed glasses, his tie already loosened from a fourteen-hour day."We need to talk," Derek said.Ethan didn't look up. "About the case?""About Isabelle."Ethan's entire body went rigid. He set down his pen with deliberate care and finally looked at Derek. "No.""You don't even know what I'm going to say.""I don't care. I have nothing to say to her. Nothing I want to hear from her. Nothing." Ethan turned back to his files. "This conversation is over.""This isn't about the trial or the foundation." Derek pulled up a chair and sat without being invited. "It's personal. You need to hear her out.""Why are you defending her? You know what she did." Ethan's voice was ice. "She lied to me for months. She sabotaged my investigation. She paid off my key witness. She destroyed every ounce of tr
The Revelation
Isabelle and Ethan sat across from each other at a small table in the back corner of the coffee shop. The distance between them felt both infinite and impossibly small.Ethan's expression was carefully neutral—guarded, distant, the face of someone who'd learned to protect himself from disappointment."Derek said you needed to talk," he said finally."I... I don't know how to say this." Isabelle's hands trembled as she folded them on the table. She'd rehearsed the words a thousand times over the past week, and now they wouldn't come.Ethan waited. He'd learned patience in the prosecutor's office—how to let silence do the work, how to let people fill the void with truth.Isabelle took a breath. "I'm pregnant."Ethan froze completely. His entire body went rigid. He stared at her without blinking, without breathing, for what felt like thirty seconds but was probably only five.Finally, he spoke. "Are you sure?""Yes. Five weeks. I've seen a doctor."The words hung between them. Five weeks
The Decision
Three days. That's how long Ethan sat with the knowledge of impending fatherhood before making any decisions.Three days of not sleeping. Three days of talking to Derek in fragmented sentences about logistics and legality and what it meant to be a father when you weren't sure you could trust the mother.Three days of meeting with Tyler Morrison over coffee, the reporter who'd helped expose Victoria years ago, and who now listened while Ethan wrestled with the impossible math of love and anger and responsibility."Parenthood changes everything," Morrison said on the third day. "Whatever anger you feel toward her, that baby is innocent. Don't make the child pay for her mistakes."Ethan knew that. Intellectually, he understood it perfectly. His father had been murdered when Ethan was eight years old. He remembered the absence. The lack. The way grief had hollowed out his mother's eyes. He'd grown up without a father because of William Cross's cruelty.Could he do that to his own child? C