The aftermath of Slade Wilson's unexpected and violent visit hung heavy in the Queen mansion. The silence that followed his departure felt almost oppressive, broken only by the faint crackle of the fireplace and the sound of Isabel's shallow breaths as she knelt beside Henry.
She was visibly shaken, her hands trembling as she inspected the faint cut on his neck left by Slade's blade. "You should've told me to leave," Isabel whispered, her voice laced with guilt and fear.
Henry, still sitting on the floor, gave her a reassuring smile despite the weariness in his eyes. "And leave you to run into him outside? Not a chance."
Isabel's lips tightened, and for a moment, she didn't respond. She brushed a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, her gaze darting toward the doorway as if expecting Slade to return. "Who was that man?" she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Before Henry could respond, the heavy front doors of the mansion burst open with a force that rattled the nearby fixtures. Helena Bertinelli stormed inside, her eyes wide with panic and her leather coat trailing behind her.
"Henry!" she called out, her voice strained with worry. Her gaze landed on him, slumped on the floor with Isabel by his side, and relief flooded her expression—only to be replaced by something darker when she noticed Isabel's proximity to him.
Helena hurried to Henry's side, her hands instinctively reaching for his face as she crouched down. "What the hell happened? Are you okay?"
Henry met her gaze, his expression softening as he saw the genuine concern in her eyes. "I'm fine, Helena," he said, his voice low and steady. "It's not as bad as it looks."
Helena didn't seem convinced. Her eyes scanned him for injuries, lingering on the faint cut on his neck and the tension in his shoulders. Then her gaze shifted to Isabel, who was still kneeling beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm.
"And you are…?" Helena's tone was sharp, her eyebrows raised as she sized up the other woman.
Isabel straightened, brushing nonexistent dust from her skirt as she met Helena's gaze with an air of confidence. "Isabel Rochev," she said, her voice cool and composed. "I work with Henry at Queen Consolidated."
"Work with him?" Helena repeated, her tone dripping with skepticism.
"Yes," Isabel replied, her expression neutral but her eyes subtly challenging. "I was here discussing business when… that man showed up."
Helena's jaw tightened, but she didn't rise to the bait. Instead, she turned her attention back to Henry, her hand resting lightly on his chest. "And you didn't think to call me? I had to hear from one of my contacts that Slade Wilson might still be alive and heading this way!"
"I didn't exactly have time to make calls, Helena," Henry said with a faint smirk, trying to lighten the tension.
Helena wasn't amused. "This isn't a joke, Henry. Slade's dangerous—more dangerous than anyone you've dealt with in a long time. If he's back, he won't stop until he's done whatever it is he came here to do."
"I know," Henry said, his tone serious now. "Believe me, I know."
Isabel, who had been watching the exchange with a faint frown, finally spoke up. "If he's so dangerous, why wasn't there more security here? Shouldn't the Queen mansion have better protection?"
Helena shot her a sharp look. "We don't need advice on security from someone who just stumbled into this mess."
Isabel's eyes narrowed, but before she could respond, Henry raised a hand, his voice firm. "Enough. Both of you."
The tension between the two women was palpable, but they both fell silent, their gazes shifting to Henry. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Slade caught us off guard, but now we know he's back. We'll deal with him—together."
Helena's expression softened slightly, though her eyes still flicked toward Isabel with lingering suspicion. "You're not doing this alone," she said quietly, her hand briefly squeezing his.
Henry nodded, his gaze steady. "I don't plan to."
Later that evening, the tension in the mansion had somewhat subsided, though the underlying unease remained. Isabel had retired to one of the guest rooms to "freshen up," leaving Henry and Helena alone in the living room.
Helena sat beside Henry on the couch, her arms crossed as she stared into the crackling fire. "I don't trust her," she said bluntly.
Henry glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "She's not a threat, Helena. She was caught up in this just like the rest of us."
"Maybe," Helena said, her tone skeptical. "But there's something about her I don't like. Call it a gut feeling."
Henry chuckled softly, leaning back against the couch. "You've always had sharp instincts. But Isabel's not the enemy here. Slade is."
Helena's gaze softened as she turned to him. "I'm just worried about you. Slade's not just dangerous—he's unpredictable. And now that he's back…"
"I know," Henry said, his voice low. "We'll have to be careful. All of us."
Helena reached for his hand, her fingers intertwining with his. "Promise me you'll keep me in the loop this time. No more surprises."
Henry met her gaze, his expression sincere. "I promise."
For a moment, the world outside the mansion seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them and the warm glow of the firelight.
But the peace was short-lived. Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Isabel appeared in the doorway, her hair damp from a quick shower and her expression guarded.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," she said, her tone polite but with an edge that didn't go unnoticed.
Helena straightened, her hand slipping from Henry's as she turned to face Isabel. "Not at all," she said with a tight smile.
Henry sighed inwardly, sensing the tension rising again. "Isabel, we were just talking about how to handle Slade. If you have any suggestions, I'm all ears."
Isabel hesitated for a moment before stepping further into the room. "I don't know much about him, but if he's as dangerous as you say, we need to be prepared. That means putting together a plan—and making sure Queen Consolidated's resources are secure. He could target the company."
"She's right," Helena admitted reluctantly. "Slade's not just a physical threat—he's strategic. He'll look for ways to hit you where it hurts the most."
Henry nodded, his mind already racing with possibilities. "Then we'll start with security—both here and at the company. I'll reach out to my contacts and set up a meeting tomorrow morning. We're not going to let Slade catch us off guard again."
Both women nodded, though the unspoken tension between them lingered. As the evening wore on, the three of them began to strategize, their differences temporarily set aside in the face of a common enemy.
But Henry knew that the real challenges were yet to come. Slade Wilson wasn't just a threat to his life—he was a threat to everything and everyone he cared about. And Henry wasn't about to let him win.