Chapter 71. A New Plan

Layla Martine stood before the towering mirror in her penthouse dressing room, arms relaxed at her sides as her sharp blue eyes scanned her reflection with ruthless precision. The mirror stretched from floor to ceiling, framed in brushed gold, offering her an uninterrupted view of perfection—or what passed for it in her exacting standards. Platinum waves cascaded down her back in soft, deliberate curls, each strand meticulously placed. The body-hugging dress she had chosen clung to her figure like a second skin, its dark, luxurious fabric accentuating every curve without begging for attention.

It didn’t whisper elegance.
It commanded it.

“Perfection,” she murmured, though the word was not spoken with admiration. It was a verdict. An expectation met.

Her reflection offered no smile, only a woman sculpted by ambition and sharpened by exper