The war room Alexander had created in his study looked like something from a spy thriller. Blueprints covered every surface, satellite images of Eleanor's Swiss estate were displayed on multiple screens, and a three-dimensional holographic model of the property rotated slowly in the center of the table.
Emily had never seen Alexander like this—completely focused, every bit of his strategic genius directed at a single objective. He'd been planning for eighteen hours straight, barely sleeping, consuming information and forming strategies with obsessive intensity.
"The estate is built into the mountainside," Alexander explained, pointing to the holographic display. "Three levels above ground, two below. Isabelle is being held here—" He highlighted a section on the lowest underground level. "In what my mother calls the 'guest quarters.' It's essentially a gilded prison with reinforced walls and a security system that requires three separate biometric authorizations to access."