A Superpowered Warrior in a Fake Heiress’s Body novel Chapter 129

Chapter 129 Moving Out

“Nonsense, Bella. Without the family assets, where the hell are you gonna crash? You’re still a minor under the law, how can Adrian be this savage?

“I already told him I’m taking full responsibility for the Wayne contract, by what right does he keep squeezing you?”

Isaac ranted, his posture leaning back toward the main gates, but Isabella extended an arm to block his path, her voice dropping to a firm register, “I already delivered my verdict-Tam done with the Powells.

“Are you trying to force me into another tedious screaming match with Adrian?”

The moment the question left his lips, Isaac’s entire frame went rigid as a board.

The reality of the toxic friction between Isabella and Adrian, combined with Hannah’s parasitic presence, flashed vividly through his mind.

Running a hand frantically through his hair, he let out a defeated sigh, “Alright then.

“How about I drop you off at my private apartment first?”

Isaac felt thoroughly anxious about her security logistics..

Even with Adrian shutting down his primary credit lines, he still maintained a private cash reserve, though the capital metrics were somewhat tight.

A sudden wave of intense regret washed through his chest-why the hell hadn’t he hoarded more liquid assets in the past?

Why hadn’t he loaded up on high-end luxury pieces he could easily liquidate right now?

It was absolutely infuriating.

One never realizes how short their capital runs until a crisis drops.

A deep bitterness filled his soul.

Turning back to Isabella, he muttered, “Stay right here for a second.”

With that, he bolted straight back toward the mansion in a series of massive strides, emerging a few minutes later completely out of breath, hauling a massive tactical backpack over his shoulder.

Actually, scratch that-he was hauling two.

One was packed explicitly for Isabella.

“Here, catch.

“I have cleared out every single essential asset from your bedroom quarters.

“No way in hell am I leaving your stuff for Adrian to freeze.”

He delivered his lines with absolute, righteously confident price.

“We are staging a strategic relocation, not freezing to death out in the wilderness.

“These assets belong to us, so taking them is a no-brainer.

“By what right should we leave a single dime behind?”

As he laid out his logic, Adrian’s muffled roars and the sound of breaking furniture still echoed faintly from the mansion behind them.

Clearly, the eldest brother had been thoroughly driven out of his mind by Isaac’s defiance.

Isabella simply stared back in total silence.

Fair enough.

Since when does my second brother develop the natural traits of a total comedian?

In reality, Isabella possessed barely any physical assets inside the Powell house.

Her entire inventory consisted of a high-end laptop and a few changes of clothes.

The hardware could be retrieved via data breach or physical sweep at any time, and the wardrobe was completely beneath her concern.

If she required fresh garments, her capital resources enabled her to buy out an entire boutique on a whim.

Given Adrian’s explosive state, the man would undoubtedly execute a corporate recall on those properties or revoke his access codes on the spot.

“Like I give a d*mn.”

Isaac let out a cold sneer in his mind.

Either way,

his choice was permanently locked down-he refused to bow his head to Adrian.

Adrian’s solitary strategy was always sacrificing Isabella for corporate leverage.

She was their actual, biological sister, not some convenient commodity to be traded on his balance sheet.

By what right did he treat her like garbage?

If Isabella never returns to this hellhole, she does not have to face a single piece of this toxicity.

As the thought took hold, a crushing weight of grief and guilt paralyzed Isaac’s chest.

Marching side-by-side with Isabella in absolute silence, they cleared the main estate lines only to realize a major tactical error-they lacked any transport wheels.

Isaac wiped a hand hard across his face, pulling out his phone to speed-dial his close contacts to request an emergency pickup vehicle.

But for some bizarre reason, the calls kept routing straight to voicemail without a single connection.

Isabella spoke up with a flat tone, “I’ll have Eugene’s personal chauffeur handle our transport.”

With that, she speed-dialed the Carter family driver directly.

The second the alert hit his terminal, the chauffeur deployed immediately.

Barely three minutes later, a sleek, premium sedan rolled down the main thoroughfare outside the Powell estate.

Pulling up smoothly right in front of Isabella, the chauffeur stepped down with absolute respect to throw the rear door open for her.