The silence in the ballroom was deafening.
Isabella didn’t turn around. She just snapped her fingers.
Behind Alex, his glamorous blonde date—the woman who had playfully scolded him minutes ago—suddenly stopped shaking.
Her panicked expression dropped. The helpless, shocked plus-one act vanished, replaced by cold, calculating steel.
Without a glance at Alex, she walked away.
Straight to Isabella.
Alex’s stomach plummeted. “Elena? What are you doing?”
Elena reached into her silver sequined clutch, pulled out a folded, notarized document, and handed it directly to Isabella.
“Elena isn’t just a pretty face you picked up in Monaco,” Isabella said, her voice echoing perfectly off the marble walls. “She’s my lead acquisitions attorney.”
Alex stopped breathing.
“While you were busy trying to buy my dignity for fifty grand,” Isabella continued, unfurling the paper, “you were drinking. Bragging. And blindly signing the ‘minor’ liability waivers Elena slipped in front of you an hour ago.”
She held up the paper. The gold seal caught the chandelier’s light.
“This is the unconditional transfer of your family’s majority shares. A hostile takeover, sealed by your own arrogance.”
The crowd erupted in hushed, vicious whispers. Camera lenses zoomed in like predators.
Alex lunged forward, his face pale with sheer terror, but two massive security guards instantly materialized, blocking him.
“You set me up!” he choked out, his empire crumbling in real time.
Isabella finally looked over her shoulder. Her eyes were absolutely merciless.
“I didn’t set you up, Alex. I just let you be yourself.”
She dropped the contract onto a silver serving tray.
“Keep your fifty grand,” she whispered, her voice cutting through the room one last time. “You’re going to need it to pay for your cab ride home.”
Isabella linked arms with Elena, and together, they walked into the flashbulbs.