The penthouse was quiet when Isabella arrived home, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she moved through the dimly lit space. She dropped her keys in the crystal bowl by the door, the soft clink echoing in the stillness. The city sprawled below her floor-to-ceiling windows, a tapestry of lights against the night sky.
She kicked off her shoes and poured herself a glass of whiskey, neat. The amber liquid caught the light as she swirled it, then took a generous sip, welcoming the burn. Her conversation with Seraphina replayed in her mind, each word, each promise, each potential pitfall.
A high-profile partnership. A distraction.
But what kind? And with whom?
She moved to her desk and opened her laptop, the blue light illuminating her face as she began searching for any vulnerabilities in her board members' portfolios, any leverage she might have overlooked. An hour passed, then two. The whiskey was long gone, and frustration had settled in its place.
