The city shimmered under the night sky, a sea of gold and silver as limousines rolled up to the grand entrance of the Blackthorne Hotel. Inside, the gala was in full swing crystal chandeliers casting soft light over the elite, champagne glasses clinking in elegant hands, laughter masking the undercurrent of power plays and deception.
Langston was here.
Isabella stepped out of the sleek black car, her gown a deep crimson, bold and commanding. She wasn't here to blend in she was here to send a message.
Alexander emerged beside her in a tailored black suit, his sharp eyes scanning the room even as he extended his arm. She took it, their movements synchronized, their mission clear.
Tonight, Langston would finally fall.
They moved through the crowd with ease, nodding politely, masking their true intentions behind practiced smiles. Claire's voice crackled in their earpieces.
"Langston's in the VIP lounge, second floor. He's expecting business, not war."
Damian chimed in. "Security is heavy. You'll have a five-minute window before his private guards do their rounds."
Isabella's lips curled into a smirk. "Then we won't waste a second."
The moment they stepped into the lounge, Langston's expression barely flickered. If he was surprised to see them, he didn't show it.
"Isabella, Alexander. Bold of you to crash my party."
She tilted her head. "I thought you liked bold."
Langston leaned back, his smirk chilling. "Tell me, what exactly do you think you're going to accomplish tonight?"
Alexander took a step forward. "Ending this. One way or another."
Langston chuckled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "You're playing a dangerous game."
Isabella leaned in, her voice deadly soft. "No, Langston. We're winning it."
The Trap Closes
Before he could react, Claire's voice came through their earpieces.
"It's done."
Langston's phone vibrated on the table. He glanced at the screen and for the first time, his smirk faltered.
Damian had wiped his accounts. Every offshore fund, every slush account, gone.
His empire was crumbling before his eyes.
Langston's jaw clenched. "You think this is over?"
Isabella stood, her work here finished. "Oh no, Langston. This is just the beginning."
She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her cold.
"You better run, Isabella. Because next time, I won't be so forgiving."
She glanced over her shoulder, meeting his glare with a calm, unshaken stare.
"Neither will I."