Isabelle’s POV
The night was eerily quiet. Too quiet.
I stood by the window of my penthouse, staring at the city below—watching the blinking lights, the moving cars, the people who had no idea that a war was brewing in the shadows.
A war I had started.
And I wasn’t going to lose.
The news had done its job. Kaia and Walter’s names were being dragged through the mud, and for the first time, they weren’t in control of the narrative. The power they had wielded so effortlessly for years was slipping through their fingers.
I turned away from the window and poured myself a glass of whiskey, the rich amber liquid catching the dim light of the room.
Everything was going according to plan.
Yet, there was a strange heaviness in my chest.
Not regret. No, I had passed that point long ago.
It
