Isabella stood at her office window, gazing at the city lights below as the clock ticked past midnight. The papers on her desk—dossiers on Jeremy's recent financial hires—told a troubling story. Each connection, each inconsistency she'd highlighted in red, formed a pattern too deliberate to be coincidence.
'This isn't just opportunism,' she thought, tracing a line between two documents. 'This is a coordinated assault on my company.'
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. The door opened to reveal Marcus, his broad shoulders filling the doorframe, his expression watchful as always.
"You should be home," he said, stepping into the office. "It's not safe to work this late alone."
Isabella smiled faintly. "I'm never truly alone, am I? You're always somewhere nearby."
