TIED TO A RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE
Every word on every screen was important, every subtle tone shift, every omission each calculated rumor mattered.
“Marcus Hale leaked something,” he stated without looking up.
Isla’s pen stopped mid-note. “Leaked what?”
“Partial financial reports,” he replied, finally making eye contact. His dark eyes were sharp and calculating. “Just minor details, but they’re framed to suggest mismanagement on our part. Nothing concrete. Yet.”
“Yet,” she echoed, jotting it down anyway.
“You’re… surprisingly calm,” Ares said, one eyebrow raised.
“I’ve faced worse,” Isla shrugged. Her voice was steady, but her fingers were tapping the edge of her notebook. “I’m learning.”
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