Taming My Sugar Mommy
Chapter 76: Reason for betrayal

Chapter 76: Reason for betrayal

The camera’s unblinking eye stared at Isabella, its red recording light steady in the dimly lit room. Richard stood behind it, his silhouette outlined against the bank of monitors that displayed various areas of the compound. The confession he’d prepared lay on the table before her—three pages of manufactured crimes, each more damning than the last.

"Begin with your name and position," Richard instructed coldly. "Then proceed exactly as written."

Isabella sat stiffly in the chair, her handcuffs now removed but freedom still far from reach. Two armed guards positioned at the door ensured compliance.

"And if I refuse?" she asked, though they both knew it was an empty challenge.

Richard’s expression didn’t change as he pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, and turned it toward her. The live feed showed Christina and Liam, now captured and held in separate rooms of the compound.

"For every minute you delay, Mr. Campbell loses a finger," Richard said matter-of-factly. "I believe he has ten. After that, we move to more essential body parts."

Isabella held his gaze for a long moment before dropping her eyes to the script. "Very well."

She straightened in her chair, looked directly into the camera, and began speaking in a clear, measured voice. "My name is Isabella Ashworth, CEO of Ashworth Luxury Events. I am recording this confession of my own free will."

The words felt like acid on her tongue, but she continued reading the fabricated narrative Richard had created—how she had embezzled millions from clients, bribed officials, laundered money through charitable foundations, and built her company on fraud.

As she read, Isabella watched Richard’s reaction from the corner of her eye. His face remained impassive, but his hands betrayed him—tightening into fists when she mentioned her father’s name, relaxing when she confessed to fictional crimes that tarnished her reputation.

"I take full responsibility for these actions," she continued, following the script. "And I acknowledge that—"

Isabella paused, noticing something on the desk behind Richard—a framed photograph she hadn’t seen earlier. From this angle, she could just make out two figures: her father and Richard, much younger, standing together. But what caught her attention was how the glass was cracked, specifically over her father’s face—not accidentally, but deliberately, as if someone had pressed a sharp object into it with precision.

"Continue," Richard prompted, his voice sharpening.

Isabella finished the confession as written, but her mind was racing. She’d always known Richard respected her father, but this seemed different—an obsession that went beyond familial loyalty. The cracked photograph, the way his voice changed when discussing her father’s death, the elaborate plot for revenge spanning fifteen years—it spoke of something deeper, more personal.

"That’s enough," Richard said when she finished, stopping the recording. "We’ll edit out the hesitation."

"You loved him," Isabella said quietly, the realization dawning. "Not as a brother. You were in love with my father."

Richard froze, his hand hovering over the camera. For the first time since her arrival, genuine emotion flashed across his face—shock, quickly replaced by cold fury.

"You know nothing," he hissed, suddenly close enough that she could smell the alcohol on his breath. "Nothing about what he was to me, what we had, what you destroyed."

Isabella’s mind raced back through childhood memories, seeing them in a new light—Richard always at their home, his lingering gazes at her father, the undefined tension between the two brothers that she’d been too young to understand.

"He never told me," she said softly.

Richard laughed bitterly. "Of course not. He couldn’t even admit it to himself. Always hiding behind his marriage, his family image, his precious reputation." His voice broke slightly. "But when we were alone..."

Isabella felt a chill run through her. "Is that why you disappeared after he died? Everyone thought you died in that boating accident—"

"I needed to vanish," Richard cut in. "To plan. To build the resources necessary to destroy you properly." His eyes gleamed with an unhinged light. "He would still be alive if not for you."

Marcus stood rigidly in the monitoring room, watching a feed showing a young woman in what appeared to be a comfortable apartment. She moved around the space with familiar gestures that made his heart ache—the same tilt of the head, the same way of tucking hair behind her ear. His daughter, Sophia.

"As you can see, she remains in good health," the technician said dispassionately. "Following Mr. Ashworth’s instructions, she has received the prescribed medications and limited outdoor privileges."

Marcus’s jaw tightened. "When was this recorded?"

The technician glanced up nervously. "This morning, of course."

But Marcus had been studying the footage carefully. The book his daughter held—he recognized it. The same book had been in her hands in footage shown to him a week ago, and the month before that. The same page, the same position.

"I want to speak with her," Marcus demanded, his voice dangerously low. "Today. Now."

The technician hesitated. "I don’t have authorization for that."

"Then get it," Marcus snapped, his composure cracking. "Three years of loyalty, and I haven’t spoken to my daughter once. Either I speak to Sophia today, or Richard finds someone else to do his dirty work."

"I’ll... convey your request," the technician replied uncomfortably. "In the meantime, Mr. Ashworth wants you to oversee the final preparations for transport."

"Transport?" Marcus echoed, his brow furrowing. "What transport?"

"Ms. Ashworth will be moved to the secondary facility tonight, after the confession is released to the media." The technician avoided his gaze. "I thought you were briefed."

Marcus’s jaw tightened. "That wasn’t the agreement. She was supposed to be detained here until the company transfer was complete."

"Plans change," the technician replied with a shrug. "You’ll need to speak with Mr. Ashworth."

As Marcus left the monitoring room, doubts that had been growing for months crystallized into certainty. The footage was recycled. Richard was lying. If he was lying about the footage, what else was he lying about?

’What if Sophia isn’t where he claims? What if she’s been moved? Or worse?’

The thought had haunted him for weeks, but he’d pushed it away, unable to face the possibility. Now, with Richard changing the terms of their agreement, he could no longer ignore the whispers of suspicion.

Moving purposefully through the hallways, Marcus accessed a security terminal and entered his credentials. With quick, practiced movements, he boosted Isabella’s tracker signal rather than continuing to jam it as instructed. If Richard was changing the rules, so would he.

In her holding cell, Christina worked methodically at the air vent grate with a thin metal tool she’d kept hidden in the lining of her jacket. The guards had searched her hastily, missing the concealed implement.

As she worked, her mind returned to what she’d discovered just before their capture. While Liam had been focused on tracking Isabella’s signal, Christina had used her own device to search for information on Marcus’s daughter—the leverage Richard was using to control him.

What she found had sent ice through her veins: documents confirming that Sophia Martinez had been sold to an unknown person three years ago. There were transaction records disguised as medical bills, falsified consent forms with Marcus’s forged signature, and communications regarding her "transfer of guardianship."

’Richard never had Sophia,’ Christina thought, working faster at the vent. ’He sold her and has been using doctored footage to control Marcus all this time.’

If Marcus truly believed his daughter was being held captive, his actions, while still a betrayal, came from a place of desperate love rather than greed. And if he was beginning to suspect the truth, he might become an ally.

The vent cover came free in her hands. Christina set it aside quietly and peered into the dark passage. First, she needed to find Liam. Then Isabella. The revelation about Sophia would have to wait until she understood the full picture.

"You still don’t understand, do you?" Richard circled Isabella slowly, his earlier composure completely abandoned. "You think this is just about money, about the fortune you stole. It’s about justice."

Isabella watched him carefully. "Justice for what? I didn’t kill my father. I built my company from nothing after he died."

"No?" Richard stopped before her, leaning down until their faces were inches apart. "Who gave him those pills that night? Who knew about his heart condition and still pushed him to the edge? Who threatened to expose his secrets unless he gave you his money?"

Isabella’s blood ran cold. "That’s not what happened."

"I SAW THE LETTER!" Richard roared, spittle flying from his lips. "The night before he died. You threatened to expose him, to ruin him unless he gave you what you wanted."

Isabella stared at him in genuine confusion. "What letter? I never wrote any—"

"STOP LYING!" Richard slammed his hands on the table between them. "He showed it to me himself, shaking, terrified that his precious reputation would be destroyed by his own daughter."

"Uncle Richard," Isabella said carefully, "I don’t know what letter you’re talking about. Whatever you saw, I didn’t write it."

For a fleeting moment, doubt clouded Richard’s eyes. Then his expression hardened again. "More manipulation. You’ve always been good at that." He straightened, regaining some of his composure. "It doesn’t matter now. The confession is recorded. By morning, your reputation will be destroyed, your company will be mine, and you’ll be en route to a place where no one will ever find you."

A soft knock interrupted them. The door opened to reveal Marcus.

"What is it?" Richard snapped. "I’m busy."

"We need to discuss the transport arrangements," Marcus said evenly, his eyes briefly meeting Isabella’s. "There’s a security concern that requires your immediate attention."

Richard frowned but nodded. "Fine. Watch her," he instructed one of the guards before following Marcus out.

In the hallway, Marcus led Richard toward the security center, his mind carefully calculating each step of what would come next. The tracker signal had been strengthened. Isabella’s location would be crystal clear to anyone monitoring it. Now he just needed to create an opportunity.

"What’s this about?" Richard demanded as they walked.

"The secondary facility may be compromised," Marcus replied smoothly. "We intercepted communications suggesting federal involvement."

Richard’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Who’s your source?"

Before Marcus could answer, an alarm blared throughout the compound. Emergency lights flashed red in the corridors.

"What the hell is that?" Richard demanded.

Marcus’s expression remained neutral. "Perimeter breach. Multiple entry points."

As Richard rushed toward the security center, Marcus allowed himself a small, grim smile. The chess pieces were in motion. Now it was time to see who would be left standing when the game ended.