The receptionist offered a polite, practiced smile. “I’m sorry, Miss Scott, but Mr. Grant is not available for any appointments today.”

Isabella’s frown was immediate. “Why? Has something happened to him?”

The receptionist’s pleasant expression tightened. She hesitated, then shook her head. “My apologies, Miss Scott. I’m simply following Mr. Grant’s direct instructions.”

Isabella refused to back down. “Can you tell me where he is? Or connect me with his assistant, perhaps?”

Pressing her lips into a thin line, the receptionist shook her head again. “I’m afraid not. We are not privy to Mr. Grant’s schedule or location. His assistant is also out of the office.”

A cold dread settled in Isabella’s stomach. Lucas was refusing all visitors. His assistant was gone. Her fears were confirmed—something was terribly wrong. But how could she help if she couldn’t even reach him?

She paced for a moment, her mind racing. Giving up was not an option. She had to find a way. Her gaze drifted to the plush lounge area off the main lobby, filled with comfortable seating for waiting clients.

A decision solidified within her.

She walked decisively to the lounge and chose a chair with a clear view of the elevators. She sat down, her posture rigid, her eyes fixed on the elevator doors. Lucas had to come out eventually. She would wait.

The receptionist observed Isabella, noting the anxiety barely concealed beneath her calm exterior. She felt a pang of sympathy. In her job, she met many people, but Isabella was different—clearly sophisticated, yet polite and genuine. After a moment’s contemplation, the receptionist picked up her desk phone and dialed.

“The CEO’s office, please? …Yes, this is front desk. A Miss Isabella Scott is here. She insists she has an appointment with Mr. Grant… Yes, that’s her. She seems deeply concerned, asking repeatedly about Mr. Grant’s well-being… I see. Well, I relayed the message that he is unavailable, but she has chosen to wait in the lounge. It appears she has a matter of great urgency to discuss with him.”

She glanced subtly at Isabella again, lowering her voice. “Perhaps you could inform Mr. Grant? Understood. Thank you.” Hanging up, she sighed. She was just an employee. The personal dramas of the elite were far above her pay grade.

Inside Lucas Grant’s office, the air was thick with tension. He sat behind his massive desk, fingers drumming an agitated rhythm on the polished surface. He had just concluded a grueling conference call with his executives, scrambling to manage a burgeoning crisis. The call had barely ended when his assistant entered to deliver the news from reception.

“Isabella?” Lucas’s lips twitched. A complex mix of emotions flickered across his weary face. “What is she doing here?”

“The receptionist reports Miss Scott is extremely worried, sir. She was persistent in her inquiries about you,” the assistant replied carefully. “They believe her business is urgent.”

Lucas was silent for a long moment. He finally let out a heavy sigh. “No. I won’t see her.” His voice was low, leaving no room for argument. “Tell her I’m not in the building. Offer no further details.”

“But, sir…” The assistant hesitated. “Miss Scott seems determined. She’s waiting in the lobby.”

“Then let her wait.” This time, frustration edged Lucas’s tone. “She will leave when she realizes it’s futile.”

He could not let Isabella worry. He could not drag her into the bitter dispute engulfing his family. He knew her nature too well—fiercely loyal and generous to those she cared about. If she discovered the Grant family was in trouble, she would stop at nothing to help, and he could not allow her to be exposed to that danger.