Chapter 449
“`
– For each row, replace every instance of “Chapter 449” with “Chapter N” (where N is that row’s chapter number). Do not alter any other text, HTML attributes, or formatting.
Chapter 449:
Isabelle didn’t flinch. She slowly put down her knife and fork. She picked up a linen napkin and elegantly dabbed the corner of her mouth.
She wasn’t scared. She was deeply, profoundly insulted.
Isabelle Sterling was an apex predator. She was supposed to be the prize. The fact that this pathetic, bankrupt man was throwing a tantrum over some hotel heiress was a direct attack on her ego.
Isabelle stood up. She grabbed her crocodile Birkin bag and looked down at Kieran with absolute disgust.
“This dinner is over,” Isabelle said coldly. “But don’t worry, Kieran. I’m going to make sure you remember exactly who you just insulted p>
She turned and walked out of the private room, her heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor.
𝖸o𝘶𝗿 𝗻ex𝘁 fа𝘷𝗼𝗋𝗶𝗍𝖾 𝘳𝗲𝖺𝘥 𝗶ѕ 𝗼𝗻
Kieran sat alone in the wreckage of the table, burying his face in his hands, completely broken.
Isabelle stormed out of the restaurant and slid into the back seat of her waiting Maybach.
She pulled out her phone and dialed her chief of staff.
“Wake up the analysts,” Isabelle ordered, her voice vibrating with malice. “I want a complete sweep of Jocelyn Wolfe’s current business portfolio. Find out exactly where she is seeking capital p>
Three minutes later, her phone buzzed.
“Ms. Sterling,” the assistant reported, “Wolfe Boutique Hotels just submitted a Term Sheet for a fifty-million-dollar Series B round. It’s currently sitting in our firm’s general review pool p>
Isabelle’s red lips curled into a terrifying, predatory smile. The prey had walked right into her slaughterhouse.
“Pull the file from the general pool,” Isabelle commanded. “Transfer it directly to my desk. I am going to personally handle Ms. Wolfe’s financing p>
She hung up the phone and looked out the tinted window at the passing city lights. She was going to tear Jocelyn Wolfe to pieces.
Back at Mt. Sinai Hospital.
Carmen had fallen asleep sitting in the uncomfortable vinyl chair next to Aaden’s bed, her head resting on her arms.
Justin stood over her. He slowly took off his heavy cashmere suit jacket. With extreme care, he draped the warm fabric over Carmen’s shivering shoulders, trapping her in his scent, sealing the cage.
The morning sun glared off the massive, floor-to-ceiling glass walls of Sterling Capital’s flagship conference room.
Jocelyn Wolfe sat at the center of the long black walnut table. She wore a razor-sharp white Armani power suit, her posture immaculate. Her financial team flanked her on both sides, visibly tense.
This was the final hurdle — a fifty-million-dollar Series B injection to fund the Wolfe Hotel’s aggressive European expansion.
The heavy glass doors swung open.
Isabelle Sterling marched into the room, flanked by four junior lawyers. She wore a severe black Tom Ford suit, and her eyes locked onto Jocelyn with the cold, fixed stare of a sniper.
Jocelyn rose and extended her hand across the table, offering a composed, professional smile. “Ms. Sterling. Thank you for taking this meeting p>