The sleek Bentley glided through Havenwood City's bustling streets, its engine purring almost silently as I sat beside Isabelle Ashworth in the plush leather backseat. Her scent—something delicate and expensive—filled the space between us, making it hard to focus on anything else.
"The Hawthorne family's market share has dropped fifteen percent in the last week alone," Isabelle said, her voice carrying a hint of satisfaction as she scrolled through reports on her tablet. "Their major clients are abandoning ship faster than I predicted."
I couldn't help but smile. "How much longer before Julian Hawthorne comes crawling?"
"Days, not weeks." Isabelle's eyes met mine, a spark of admiration in them. "Your strategy was brilliant, Liam. Targeting their supply chain rather than attacking them directly... they never saw it coming."
