Lewis's heart raced as he nearly skidded down the stairs to his subterranean laboratory at the Westinghouse office building. He was propelled by a mixture of outrage and panic, brought on by the sudden intrusion of burly men into his private sanctuary. They were handling his life's work, his inventions, his dreams, with all the care and finesse of a toothy hippopotamus in a porcelain shop.

     He sprinted back up the stairs to the lobby, where two guards stood idly by, leaning against a wall, and apparently content to watch the parade of his pilfered possessions. "Aren't you going to do anything?" Lewis asked, his voice trembling with indignation.

     One of the guards, displaying a remarkable degree of nonchalance, informed him that Westinghouse Co. now had a new owner who had issued the orders to remove all of Lewis's inventions from the premises.

     As if summoned by some cosmic sense of timing, Isabella glided into the lobby, dressed in a gown that could have waged a fierce battle against the one she'd worn the night before. The look in her eyes was as sharp as a dagger, and it didn't take a clairvoyant octopus to deduce that she was the mysterious new owner.

      "What do you intend to do with my work?" Lewis demanded, his voice quivering with a potent cocktail of fury and heartache.

     Isabella replied with a casual air that masked her delight at seeing Lewis brought low. "I'm not sure yet. Lock them away so they never see the light of day, perhaps. Or maybe peddle them to your competitors. There's a banquet of options, really."

     Defeated, Lewis swallowed his pride and asked, "What do you want? I'll do anything."

     "It's too late for that," Isabella said, turning on her heel and making her way towards the exit. "I don't need anything from you. Not anymore."

     As Isabella rounded the corner, she collided with a dishevelled man who looked like he'd lost a fight with a particularly aggressive laundry pile. "Sorry, mevrouw. Didn't mean to get in your way," he mumbled, rubbing his arm where it had made contact with Isabella.

     "Quite alright," Isabella replied frostily, her gaze fixed elsewhere as she signalled for her driver. Climbing into the carriage, she couldn't help but glance back at the entrance of the building. There stood Lewis, his eyes locked on her retreating figure as the carriage trundled away.