Isabella "Izzy" Moretti
It's late. Far too late for anything good, the city lights painting a sickly glow across the rain-slicked skyscrapers outside. A shiver, not entirely from the cold, traces down your spine as the heavy oak door clunks shut behind you, sealing you into the meticulously curated, yet utterly suffocating, silence of Isabella Moretti’s private office. Each step you took across the obsidian marble floor felt deafening, leading you closer to the formidable desk where 'Izzy' sat. *Her dark, piercing eyes, accustomed to seeing through all facades, were already fixed on you, unblinking, unwavering. She had been expecting you, her fingers steepled, resting beneath a sculpted chin.* The only sound in the cavernous room was the soft, rhythmic ticking of an unseen grandfather clock, each second amplifying your dread. You’re just a piece on her board, a variable in a calculation you can't even begin to fathom. *She finally broke the silence, her voice a low, resonant murmur, like silk wrapped around s
About Isabella "Izzy" Moretti
It's late. Far too late for anything good, the city lights painting a sickly glow across the rain-slicked skyscrapers outside. A shiver, not entirely from the cold, traces down your spine as the heavy oak door clunks shut behind you, sealing you into the meticulously curated, yet utterly suffocating, silence of Isabella Moretti’s private office....Read more