Dock 47 – 2:17 AM
The armed silhouettes shove Michael, Anya, and Augustine through a maze of steel containers, rifles pressing against their backs. Boots crunch on gravel. The salty air tastes metallic, charged with the kind of silence before a storm.
At the heart of the dock, a rusted steel door groans open.
Inside: an old warehouse. Its ribs are steel beams and its heartbeat is the echo of dripping water. Floodlights hum overhead, casting a pale, clinical glow across the floor.
And there she is.
A woman. Back turned. Black dress, silk gloves, hair pinned high. A presence that pulls the air taut like piano wire. She turns slowly—face illuminated.
Isabella Rain.
Not a ghost. Not a memory. Flesh and bone. Alive.
The years have carved shadows beneath her cheekbones, but her beauty is untouched—feral, aristocratic, almost inhuman in its poise.
Michael's eyes widen. His breath dies in his chest.
Michael (hoarse):
"…Mom?"
Lord Augustine stumbles a step forward. The mask of his power shatters. His lips tremble. His hand grips his cane until it shakes.
Lord Augustine (broken whisper):
"Isabella…"
Isabella's smile is faint. Cold. Calculated. Like a chess master unveiling the final piece.
Isabella:
"Augustine. Michael. I was wondering how long it would take before you followed the crumbs."
Anya's POV:
Anya stares between them, confusion slashing through her composure. She can't reconcile it—the boss they've been chasing, the ghost mother, the lost wife. Her throat dries.
Anya (to herself, whispering):
"…Thats why they re shaken…"
She doesn't understand. Not fully. Not yet.
FLASHBACK – Michael's Memory
Rain. Sheets of it. Sirens wail, red and blue light smearing across shattered glass.
Michael—barely twelve—screams on the wet asphalt, knees torn, his small hands clutching at Augustine's soaked coat.
Young Michael (crying):
"Where's Mom?! Where's Mom?!"
Lord Augustine holds him, his eyes bloodshot, his face ghost-pale as paramedics wheel away a broken body under a blood-streaked white sheet.
Lord Augustine (choking, voice cracking):
"She's gone, son. She's gone…"
Lightning cracks the sky. The image burns into Michael's mind. His father's lie becomes his truth.
Back to Present
Michael's chest heaves as he steps toward her, anger and grief colliding.
Michael (shaking):
"You… You tried to have me killed."
His voice rises—rage trembling in his throat.
Michael:
"Im your son. Why?! Why would you order your own son's death?!"
Isabella's expression doesn't falter. No apology. No softness. Just that cold calculation.
Lord Augustine, on the other hand, collapses. The iron spine of the Rain empire bends. His face cracks—tears streak silently. He stumbles toward her, voice splintered.
Lord Augustine (pleading, broken):
"Why, Isabella? Why did you leave me? I thought you were dead. I mourned you every night, every day… You were my heart. And you let me bury you!"
His cane clatters to the ground. His knees nearly give.
Isabella tilts her head.
Isabella (softly, venom hidden in silk):
"I had to leave. Love makes men weak. And weakness gets you killed."
just then....
Anya Steps Forward
Michael's eyes flicker to Anya — searching for an ally, for the woman who fought beside him.
But her face is wrong. Too still. Too calm.
Slowly, Anya steps forward, past Michael's shoulder. Her fists unclench, her stance shifts… not toward him, but toward Isabella.
Michael (confused, voice breaking):
"Anya… what are you doing?"
Anya doesn't answer. She walks past him and stops at Isabella's side. The betrayal cuts deeper than any blade.
Lord Augustine stiffens, shock rattling his old bones. Michael's breath catches — fury and disbelief fighting in his chest.
Isabella smiles, amused.
Isabella (to Anya, low and knowing):
"You finally show your true face."
Michael (shouting):
"NO! Tell me this isn't real! After everything we—"
Anya finally turns to him. Her eyes glisten, but it isn't sorrow — it's resolve.
Anya (steady, bitter):
"I never belonged to you, Michael. I never belonged to anyone.I only needed your trust… enough to get close. Enough to free my daughter."
Michael staggers back, chest hollowing out.
Michael (hoarse):
"You used me? Alexa… you said you needed my help
Anya shakes her head slowly. Each word falls like a hammer.
Anya (cutting, final):
i never needed your help" i always knew where Alexa was. in fact she is much safer as She's David Graver's child. Blood of the first-born son of Alexander Graver. The true heir of the empire she was going to eventually inherit. i simply needed to help her
Michael's world detonates. His knees almost buckle.
Lord Augustine's face goes pale, the Rain patriarch realizing the family empire has been infiltrated from within by Graver blood itself.
Isabella laughs — a cruel, hollow sound. She places a hand lightly on Anya's shoulder, the gesture sealing an unholy alliance.
Isabella (smirking at Michael):
"You see, my son? The board has been set for years. And you… you were nothing but a pawn."
The floodlights hum overhead. Gunmen wait in silence. Michael, Augustine, and Anya stand trapped, breaths heavy.
Isabella steps forward, her heels sharp against the concrete. She lets her hand glide across a steel beam, as if drawing strength from the cold metal.
Isabella (smiling thinly):
"You want to know the truth? How I became this?"
Michael (spitting the words):
"You owe us nothing but the truth. Start talking."
Augustine clutches his cane, trembling — torn between grief and fury.
Isabella tilts her head, her voice a whisper at first, like confession.
Isabella (soft, venomous):
"I was nothing. A street rat. Hungry, filthy, forgotten. Then he found me — Alexander Graver."
Michael stiffens at the name.
Isabella (continuing):
"He picked me from the gutter. Gave me a name. Trained me like a weapon. I was his blade, his shadow, his poison. My task was simple: seduce and destroy. Men of power… politicians, rivals, businessmen. I drew them close, took their secrets, then slit their throats in silence."
Her eyes grow distant — memory flooding in.
Isabella (bitter):
"And then came the assignment. A senator. They wanted compromising photographs. Leverage. I dressed, I smiled, I went to his hotel. But fate… fate had other plans."
She turns her eyes sharply toward Augustine.
Isabella (lower, almost trembling):
"That's when I saw you. Augustine Rain. Young. Broke. Foolish. Trying to make Rain Corporation breathe when it was already choking. You weren't supposed to be there… but you were. And you were so damned charming. So damned… honest. You saw me, not the mask I wore."
Augustine's lips part. His eyes glisten — caught between rage and remembrance.
Lord Augustine (broken whisper):
"You… you loved me?"
Isabella's laugh cracks like glass.
Isabella:
"Yes. And that was my greatest betrayal. I turned my back on the mafia. On Alexander. For you. For love."
Michael (furious, stepping closer):
"And for that, you abandoned us? Faked your death?"
Isabella's eyes harden.
Isabella:
"I had to. I stole money from the Gravers. Millions. Enough to seed Rain Corp's rise from ashes. Enough to turn your father into a titan. Augustine never asked where the fortune came from. He never cared. He just built, and built, and built."
Augustine bows his head in shame, the truth cutting deeper than any blade.
Isabella (voice sharp):
"But Alexander never forgives. Years passed, I hid, I bore Michael. Changed my name, burned my past. I thought I was free. Until…"
Her voice drops, venom dripping in each syllable.
Isabella (low, shaking):
"David came. David Graver. Alexander's first-born. He found me. Walked into my home as if it was his own. He knew. He always knew. And he gave me 48 hours."
Michael's throat tightens.
Michael:
"Forty-eight hours for what?"
Isabella (ice-cold, glaring straight at him):
"To return the money. Or he would slaughter every last one of us. You. Your father. The Rain name… wiped out in blood."
A silence falls so heavy, it feels like the walls themselves are holding their breath.
Augustine drops to his knees, the weight of decades of lies collapsing on his back.
Lord Augustine (choking, pleading):
"All this time… Isabella, why didn't you tell me? I could have—"
Isabella cuts him off, her voice sharp and merciless.
Isabella:
"No, Augustine. You couldn't. Love made you weak. That's why I left. That's why I faked my death. It was the only way to keep you — and Michael — alive."
Michael's fists tremble. His chest heaves with rage and grief, his voice cracking.
Michael (screaming):
"And yet here we are! With guns at our heads, with you standing beside the Gravers again! Was it all a lie? Was I a lie?"
Isabella's face doesn't falter — but her eyes flicker, for just a second, with something buried deep: regret, or perhaps the ghost of the girl she once was.
Isabella (whispering, almost too quiet to hear):
"You were the only truth I ever had."