Isabelle’s POV
...Two Weeks Later
The conference room smelled like money and espresso.
Mahogany table polished to a mirror sheen. Men in tailored suits talking numbers like they were poker chips. Nathan sat at the head, perfectly composed—dark button-down rolled at the sleeves, one hand casually on the table while the other toyed with the corner of a dossier. He looked like he owned the world.
And maybe, in this room, he did.
I sat beside him, poised but quiet, scrolling through projections on my iPad while keeping one ear on the pitch. It was a clean start-up in the medical tech sector—solid margins, growing user base, and a hungry CEO who couldn’t stop glancing at Nathan like he was a deity. I didn’t blame him. Nathan wasn’t just Alpha by title. He exuded it.
My phone vibrated in m
