Isabel’s POV
The city blurs past as I finalize today’s strategy. When the Redding Foundation’s grand facade comes into view, I’m ready for the next phase.
I step out of the car, the admiration and subtle murmurs of onlookers brushing past me like a warm breeze. I stride confidently through the building, my heels echoing against the polished marble floors.
As I approach Cynthia’s office, I find her at her desk, shoulders hunched, fingers tapping nervously. Her usual composure is gone.
I smile faintly, a calculated expression of amusement, as I push open the door and step inside. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our appointment today?”
Cynthia startles, her head snapping up, her mask of professionalism slipping for just a moment before she hastily reassembles it. “Of course not,” she rep
