“There’s something else you should know about tonight…”
Isabella snapped her fingers.
A man in a sharp suit stepped from the shadows, handing her a sleek black folder.
“That fifty grand you so generously offered me?” Isabella asked, her voice echoing through the dead-silent ballroom. “It was practically prophetic.”
Alex’s face went paper-white. He looked at the folder.
Then at his fiancée.
The woman in the silver dress didn’t look panicked. She looked… bored.
Slowly, she unclasped her breathtaking diamond necklace.
*Clink.*
She dropped it perfectly onto Isabella’s empty silver serving tray.
“Pleasure doing business, Ms. Laurent,” his fiancée said, her voice dripping with ice.
Alex choked, reaching for her. “Elena, what is this?!”
She sidestepped him like trash. “Did you really think I’d sign a prenup without running a character audit? I don’t marry liabilities, Alex.”
The entire room reeled. The trap hadn’t just been set by the waitress. They were working together.
Isabella opened the folder, her eyes locked on his.
“At exactly 8:00 PM, my firm completed a hostile takeover of your family’s holding company.”
Alex stopped breathing.
“Your credit lines. Your cars. The very tuxedo on your back.” Isabella stepped into his space, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “All property of Laurent Corp.”
She pulled a single bank statement from the folder and let it flutter to the marble floor at his feet.
“After factoring in your staggering debts, your new net worth is…”
Isabella smiled. Cold. Brilliant. Terrifying.
“Exactly fifty thousand dollars.”
A collective gasp ripped through the crowd. Camera flashes went off like lightning, capturing the exact moment a dynasty died.
Isabella calmly picked up a folded waiter’s apron from a nearby cart.
She tossed it. It hit Alex squarely in the chest.
“So,” Isabella smirked, turning her back on him for good.
“Dance well, Alex. You’re on the clock.”