I paced back and forth across my modest living room, my mind racing with possibilities. The image of Harrison Ashworth's Rolls-Royce parked outside sent a jolt of anxiety through me. What could Isabelle's father possibly want? Our brief interaction at the hotel had been charged with unspoken tension—him evaluating me from afar while I tried not to crumble under his scrutiny.
"Pull yourself together, Liam," I muttered, straightening my shoulders.
This wasn't just any man coming to my door—this was Harrison Ashworth, one of the most powerful figures in Veridia City. A man who could order executions as casually as ordering lunch.
The sound of footsteps grew louder, each step on the stairs outside like a countdown to confrontation. I quickly scanned my apartment, grateful I'd cleaned up earlier. It wasn't much compared to what the Ashworths were accustomed to, but at least it was presentable.
Three sharp knocks on my door. Decisive. Commanding.