CEO's Revenge- She Begged After the Divorce

Chapter 5: Power Plays

Two weeks after the press conference, Alex Chen stood in his corner office reviewing the Hudson Yards proposal for the fifteenth time. Every number was perfect, every projection conservative yet impressive, every detail designed to make Chen Industries the obvious choice. His father didn't believe in leaving anything to chance.

"The city council votes tomorrow," Jennifer said, entering with her ever-present tablet. "We have eight confirmed votes, need nine for approval. Councilman Morrison is still undecided."

"What does Morrison want?"

"Assurance that we'll hire locally, prioritize minority-owned contractors, and include affordable housing units." Jennifer pulled up Morrison's file. "He's genuinely concerned about gentrification, not just posturing for votes."

"Then we give him what he wants." Alex made notes on his copy of the proposal. "Increase affordable housing from 15% to 20%, add a jobs training program for local residents, and guarantee 30% of contracts to minority-owned businesses. Run the numbers—make sure it still works financially."

Jennifer's fingers flew across her tablet. "It works. Margins drop by 2%, but we're still profitable. Your father won't like the reduced return."

"My father wants to win. This is how we win." Alex signed off on the modifications. "Schedule a meeting with Morrison for this afternoon. Personal touch."

"Already done. Three PM at his office in Brooklyn." Jennifer's expression shifted slightly. "There's something else you should know. Emma Winters has been trying to contact you."

Alex's pen stilled on the paper. "I told her not to."

"She's been calling the main line, emailing investor relations, and yesterday she showed up at the lobby. Security turned her away per your instructions." Jennifer hesitated. "She looked... desperate."

Good. Alex felt no guilt at the thought. Emma had made her choices; now she was living with the consequences.

"Keep the security protocols in place. If she shows up again, have them call NYPD for trespassing." He returned to his paperwork. "Anything else?"

"Blackstone Real Estate's stock is down 34% since your press conference. They've laid off 15% of their workforce, and Richard Blackstone III is facing calls to resign from his own board." Jennifer's tone was carefully neutral. "Industry analysts are calling it the most brutal corporate takedown they've seen in years."

"And it hasn't even officially happened yet." Alex felt a cold satisfaction. "When we win Hudson Yards tomorrow, how long until Blackstone collapses completely?"

"Sixty to ninety days. They've leveraged everything against this contract. Without it, they can't service their debts." Jennifer met his eyes. "Several hundred people will lose their jobs."

Alex heard the unspoken question in her voice: Was this worth destroying innocent people's livelihoods?

"Blackstone made bad business decisions," he said quietly. "They bet their entire company on one contract and spent years operating on the assumption they'd win. That's not my fault—it's theirs. The people who lose their jobs are victims of Richard Blackstone's ego and mismanagement, not my revenge."

"I understand." Jennifer made another note. "For what it's worth, I think you're right. Blackstone Real Estate has been playing fast and loose with regulations for years. The SEC investigation your father mentioned is moving forward—they'll likely face criminal charges regardless of the Hudson Yards outcome."

Alex's intercom buzzed. His father's voice came through, sharp and commanding: "Alexander, my office. Now."

Jennifer raised an eyebrow. "He sounds pleased."

"With my father, that's concerning." Alex stood, buttoning his suit jacket. "Hold my calls."

Richard Chen's office was twice the size of Alex's, positioned at the corner of the building with views that encompassed half of Manhattan. His father stood at the window, hands clasped behind his back, every inch the corporate titan who'd built an empire from his grandfather's modest import business.

"You modified the Hudson Yards proposal," Richard said without turning around.

"Morrison needed assurances. I gave them to him."

"You reduced our profit margin by $120 million over the life of the project."

"I secured the deciding vote." Alex moved to stand beside his father at the window. "Would you prefer to be right or to win?"

Richard's lips twitched—the closest he came to smiling. "Your grandfather used to say the same thing to me." He turned to face Alex. "You're learning quickly. Good."

Coming from his father, it was high praise. Alex felt something warm in his chest, something that had been absent for three years: approval from the man whose opinion actually mattered.

"The vote tomorrow is a formality now," Richard continued. "We've won. Blackstone knows it—his attorneys have been calling all morning trying to negotiate a settlement where we split the contract. I told them to go to hell."

"What about the personal aspect?" Alex asked carefully. "Emma and—"

"Emma Winters is no longer your concern." Richard's voice was firm. "She made her bed. Let her lie in it. Revenge is satisfying, but don't let it consume you. You have a company to help run, a legacy to build. That woman isn't worth your energy."

Alex nodded, but the words rang hollow. Every night, he found himself thinking about Emma's face when she'd dismissed him at that restaurant, her mother's endless insults, her brother's assumption that Alex existed solely to fund his lifestyle. The anger hadn't faded—it had crystallized into something colder and more permanent.

"There's another matter," Richard said, his tone shifting to business. "The charity gala at the Plaza tomorrow night. You'll need to attend."

Alex groaned internally. "Father, I'm not ready for—"

"You're Executive Vice President of a $28 billion company. You'll attend social functions and smile for the cameras. It's part of the job." Richard handed him an invitation. "Besides, several board members will be there, along with the mayor and half the city council. Good opportunity to secure relationships."

"Will Blackstone be there?"

"Of course. He's been a fixture of New York society for years. Though I doubt he'll be feeling very social." Richard's expression turned predatory. "In fact, I'm counting on you to be gracious in victory. Show him what class looks like."

The gala. Alex had attended a few of these events as a teenager, before his self-imposed exile into normal life. He'd forgotten how exhausting they were—endless small talk, performative philanthropy, and social hierarchies more complex than any corporate structure.

"I'll need a date," Alex said, already dreading the speculation that would follow if he attended alone.

"Jennifer has a list of appropriate candidates. Daughters of board members, socialites, a few actresses." Richard waved dismissively. "Choose someone presentable who won't embarrass the family."

Alex thought about Emma, who would have killed to attend an event like this as his date. Who probably still remembered these galas from her brief time as Richard Blackstone's arm candy. Who would definitely hear about it if Alex showed up with someone else.

"I'll handle it," he said.

That afternoon, Alex sat across from Councilman Morrison in a modest office in Brooklyn, worlds away from Manhattan's glass towers. Morrison was in his fifties, gray-haired and sharp-eyed, with the kind of genuine concern for his constituents that was rare in politics.

"Mr. Chen, I'll be honest with you." Morrison leaned back in his chair. "Your proposal is impressive, but so is Blackstone's. I need to know that Chen Industries won't just swoop in, build luxury condos, and price out the families who've lived in this neighborhood for generations."

"I understand your concern." Alex pulled out the revised proposal. "That's why I've increased our affordable housing commitment to 20%, added a jobs training program specifically for local residents, and guaranteed 30% of our contracts to minority-owned businesses. Not as tax write-offs or PR stunts, but as binding contractual obligations."

Morrison studied the documents, his expression neutral. "These numbers are real?"

"My company's reputation is on the line. If we commit to these terms and fail to deliver, you'll have legal recourse and public ammunition to destroy us." Alex met the councilman's eyes. "I'm not asking you to trust me—I'm asking you to hold me accountable."

"Why?" Morrison set down the papers. "Why give away profit margin when you could probably win without these concessions?"

Alex thought about the past three years, living in a modest apartment, taking the subway, shopping at regular grocery stores. Remembering what it felt like to worry about money, to budget for necessities, to understand that most people didn't have safety nets or trust funds.

"Because I've seen how the other half lives," he said honestly. "I spent three years working a regular job, living on a regular salary, experiencing what most New Yorkers experience every day. These aren't just numbers on a spreadsheet to me—they're people's lives. If Chen Industries is going to reshape this city's future, we should do it responsibly."

Morrison was quiet for a long moment. "Your father wouldn't have said that."

"No, he wouldn't have. But he taught me something important: the best way to build lasting power is to have people want you to succeed, not just fear you if you fail." Alex gathered the documents. "I'm offering you a development that benefits everyone—my company, your constituents, and the city. Blackstone is offering you luxury towers and vague promises. Choose wisely."

As Alex left the meeting, Jennifer was waiting by the car. "How did it go?"

"We have his vote." Alex slid into the Bentley's backseat. "Tomorrow, we win."

"And Emma Winters?" Jennifer asked carefully. "She called again while you were inside. She sounded... broken."

Alex pulled out his phone, looking at the log of blocked calls. Seventy-three attempts in two weeks. Her voicemails—which he'd had Jennifer transcribe without listening to them—ranged from angry to desperate to pleading.

*"Alex, please, we need to talk. I know I made mistakes, but—"*

*"I never knew who you were. How was I supposed to know? You lied to me!"*

*"My mother won't stop calling. Marcus is demanding money. They think I can just call you and fix everything. Please, just talk to me."*

*"I lost my apartment. I lost my job. I have nothing. You've taken everything from me. Are you happy now?"*

Alex deleted the messages unread. "She made her choices."

"She's living in a hotel in Queens. Her credit cards are maxed out. Her family has disowned her for 'losing' you." Jennifer's voice remained neutral, but Alex heard the underlying question: Wasn't this enough?

"Good," Alex said coldly. "Maybe now she understands what it felt like to be dismissed, to be treated as worthless, to have the people who claimed to love you only care about your money." He looked out at the Manhattan skyline. "I'm not going to rescue her, Jennifer. I'm not her safety net. She burned that bridge herself."

Jennifer nodded, making notes on her tablet. "The gala tomorrow—have you chosen a date?"

"Not yet. Who's on the list?"

"Alexandra Winters, no relation to Emma—she's a trauma surgeon at Mount Sinai and the mayor's niece. Catherine Zhou, tech entrepreneur, just sold her startup for $50 million. Madison Pierce, Broadway actress, currently starring in the Hamilton revival. Sophia Castellano, attorney with the DA's office, specialized in white-collar crime—"

"Wait." Alex held up a hand. "Sophia Castellano. I know that name."

"She's prosecuting the SEC case against Blackstone Real Estate." Jennifer pulled up a photo. "Twenty-nine, Columbia Law, reputation for being ruthless in court. Also happens to be gorgeous and single."

The photo showed a striking woman with dark hair, sharp features, and eyes that suggested she didn't suffer fools. Alex studied her profile, an idea forming.

"Set up a meeting. Coffee, something casual. Let her know I'm interested in discussing the Blackstone case—as a potential witness, since I have personal knowledge of Richard Blackstone's character."

Jennifer's eyebrows rose. "That's... calculating."

"That's strategy. If she's half as impressive in person as she is on paper, I'll ask her to the gala." Alex smiled slightly. "And if Emma somehow finds out I'm dating the prosecutor who's going to put her ex-boyfriend in prison? That's just a bonus."

"Your father would be proud," Jennifer said dryly. "I'll set it up."

That evening, Alex returned to his penthouse—the real one, at 432 Park Avenue, not the modest apartment he'd shared with Emma. The space was three times the size of his old place, with smart home technology, imported furniture, and art that cost more than most people's houses.

It should have felt like home. Instead, it felt empty.

Alex poured himself a scotch and stood at the window, looking out over the city lights. Somewhere in Queens, Emma was probably in a cramped hotel room, staring at her phone, wondering how her life had fallen apart so quickly. Her mother was likely calling demanding she fix things. Her brother was probably angry about his suddenly cut-off funding source.

He should feel satisfied. This was justice—consequences for years of mistreatment, for infidelity, for using him as nothing more than an ATM with emotions.

So why did victory feel so hollow?

His phone buzzed. A text from his father: "City council has the votes. Hudson Yards is ours. Well done."

Alex typed back: "Thank you."

Another message came through, this one from Jennifer: "Sophia Castellano agreed to coffee tomorrow morning, 8 AM at Bluestone Lane. She's looking forward to meeting you.

Everything was falling into place. Chen Industries was winning. Blackstone Real Estate was collapsing. Emma was suffering. Alex was reclaiming his position in the world he'd been born into.

But as he stood alone in his palatial apartment, drinking expensive scotch and looking out over a city that had never felt more distant, Alex couldn't shake the feeling that somewhere along the way, he'd lost something he couldn't quite name.

He pushed the thought away. Sentiment was weakness. His father had taught him that.

Tomorrow, he'd meet with Sophia Castellano. Tomorrow night, he'd attend the gala and show the world that Alex Chen had moved on, moved up, and moved beyond the woman who'd thrown him away.

Emma could keep her regrets. Alex had a future to build.

Even if that future suddenly seemed lonelier than he'd expected.