“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lena spat, stepping closer, her heels stabbing the marble. “Don’t you dare bring up my business like you still own me, Rowan. You’re nothing, a nobody who got lucky with a suit and a helicopter. I made myself. I built Obsidian Tech. Me! Not you, with your quiet fraud change and your pathetic little secrets.” Rowan’s eyes glinted, a storm brewing behind that infuriating calm. He didn’t move, didn’t raise his voice, but his presence filled the hallway like a tidal wave. “Built it?” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “Lena, when I found you, you were crawling. A broke assistant with a fake smile, drowning in debt, begging for a chance. I paid for your throne. Every salon bill, every designer dress, every door that opened for you—I bought it with my ‘freelance money’. And you? You spat in my face and called it ambition.” The words hit like a slap, each one landing harder than the last. Lena’s face flushed, her chest heaving as she fough

One Week Later Calvin stood in front of his crumbling East Brooklyn apartment, the stoop littered with his life’s scraps—beat-up sneakers, a cracked coffee table, a box of dishes his mama left him before cancer took her. The landlord, Mr. Rizzo, a potbellied white dude with a comb-over and a permanent sneer, barked orders at two burly guys tossing Calvin’s stuff onto the sidewalk. A couple of cops lounged nearby, arms crossed, watching like it was just another Tuesday. “Yo, Rizzo, man, gimme one more week,” Calvin pleaded, his voice rough but steady, like a man who’d learned to swallow pride years ago. “My job ain’t paid me yet. I got nowhere to go, bruh. Just one week.” Rizzo snorted, his jowls shaking like Jell-O. “One week? You’ve been late two days straight, Calvin. Two days is more than you deserve. Pack your shitty load and bounce.” He jabbed a finger toward the pile. “Or go live with that broke-ass brother of yours at that fancy college. Yeah, I heard you have a brother. I

The Ferrari’s growl faded as Jason pulled into the underground garage of a Manhattan high-rise, its glass facade stabbing into the sky like a blade. Calvin clutched his duffel, still dusty from the Brooklyn stoop, his eyes wide as they stepped into a private elevator. Jason, hood up and a black face mask covering his jaw, punched a code into a sleek panel. The doors slid shut, and the lift hummed upward, smooth as silk. He knew better than to leave his face open in public. He was now a public figure. A delicate one. Calvin shifted, his work boots scuffing the polished floor. “Man, this feels like a movie,” he muttered, his voice low, still raw from the eviction scene hours ago. “You sure we in the right place, Jay?” Jason chuckled, tugging his mask lower. “Trust me, Cal. This is home now.” The elevator dinged, opening straight into a penthouse that looked like it was ripped from a magazine. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city’s glittering skyline—Empire State Building winking

Jason’s gaze softened for a split second, like he remembered the nights they’d shared pizza, dreaming big. Then it hardened. “True enough,” he said, his voice steady. “They picked me, Mia. Saw somethin’ you didn’t. Guess I wasn’t shiny enough for you back then.” Her face burned, tears pricking her eyes. The crowd was relentless, phones catching every word, every flinch. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely audible. “I didn’t know… I didn’t mean—” “Save it,” Jason cut her off, not cruel but final. “You made your choice. Threw my ring, picked his.” He nodded at Carson, whose jaw was tight, his confidence crumbling. “Hope it’s keepin’ you warm at night.” Carson lunged forward, shoving Jason’s shoulder. “You don’t talk to her like that, diner boy!” The crowd gasped, but Jason didn’t budge, his stance solid, like he’d been waiting for this. “Touch me again,” Jason said, his voice low, lethal, “and I’ll buy this whole campus and turn your dad’s office into my gym.” The crowd erupted—che

Dominic flinched, the roses trembling in his hand. “I know I fucked up, Lena. I know. It wasn’t… it wasn’t what you think. Megan came onto me, got me drunk, spun it like—” He stopped, swallowing hard, like the words were choking him. “I’m not makin’ excuses. I’m just saying I didn’t mean to hurt you.” “Hurt me?” Lena laughed, sharp and cold, stepping around her desk to face him. “You didn’t hurt me, Dominic. You disgusted me. You and her, scheming behind my back, thinking you could play me while I built this company up.” She gestured at the stock charts, Obsidian’s numbers glowing green. “I’m the one who saved this place. Apex signed because of me. You? You’re just the CEO’s son, riding daddy’s coattails.” His face paled, the note crumpling in his fist. “That’s not fair, Lena. I worked for this company too. I…” “Worked?” She cut him off, stepping closer, her heels clicking like a countdown. “You worked your way into my mother’s bed. That’s your legacy here.” She snatched the roses