2025-06-09 23:59:12
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Chapter 48: Crown Of Fire
“Lena I… I..” “Say it, boss. Say it!” Lena’s mind was ablaze, the crown back on her head gleaming like molten gold. She was so back, baby. The hallway’s cold grip couldn’t touch her now—not with Victor Sterling’s business card burning a hole in her clutch, not with Horizon Ventures and that venture capitalist eating out of her palm, among others. She’d turned their scorn into applause, their whispers into cheers. Obsidian Tech was hers again, and she was ready to make them bow. “Say it, boss,” Lena shot at Mr. Granger, her voice a blade, sharp and unyielding. “Because trust me, I won’t hesitate to leave your ‘sinking ship.’ Remember, I told you I’d go where no one else dares—and look at me now.” Granger’s face was a storm, his jaw tight, eyes darting like a cornered animal. Mrs. Blackson stood rigid, her lips a thin line of defeat. Megan lingered behind them, her gaze a silent dagger, her vein pulsing at her temple. Lena caught it—the way her mother’s eyes flicked to Dominic, c
Chapter 47: "Taking The Bull By The Balls!"
Dominic stepped closer, his voice softer, almost kind. “Lena, you’ve got three days to fix this Apex Holdings mess. Three days to save your career. You can’t do that if you’re chasing shadows. Let Rowan go. Let him have his moment. It’s not worth losing everything.” She spun to face him, eyes blazing. “Let him go? After he humiliated me? Let me think he was nothing, all those years, while he was—what? Playing me for a fool? You think I’m gonna let that slide?” He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “You’re not hearing me. He’s got Echelon Eight behind him. Victoria Lang. You keep pushing, you’re not just fighting him—you’re fighting them. And nobody fights Echelon Eight and wins. The plan was to get him fired. You have set the trajectory. Let it ride. Do not disturb the motion!” Her lips parted, but no words came. For the first time, she felt it—the weight of her gamble. Calling out Rowan in front of everyone, waving that document, accusing him of crimes she wasn’t even 100
Chapter 46: Checkmate In The C0ld
Lena’s heels clacked against the marble, each step a gunshot in her chest. The gala’s whispers hummed like a swarm of bees, but she tuned them out, muted every voice to the back of her head where they belonged. Her eyes burned where Rowan had stood—where he’d let her scream her truth to a room full of wolves, some in sheep’s clothes– and walked away like she was dust, like her accusations were nothing but hot air. Like she was still the girl who’d clung to him years ago, back when she was nobody, back when he was her anchor. Her broke anchor. Her fingers choked the stem of an empty wineglass, slick with sweat. She wanted to hurl it, let it shatter against the stage, and scream until her throat gave out. But she didn’t. Not here. Not with Victoria Lang’s silver gaze cutting through her from across the room, that smug little smile curling like she’d just watched a kid throw a fit. But Lena had won, hadn’t she? She’d waved that document like a battle flag, called out Rowan’s bluf
Chapter 45: "Oh Poor Lena! How Foolish You Are..."
Rowan stood there, his face unreadable, like he was carved from stone. The crowd’s whispers buzzed like flies, but he didn’t flinch. Lena’s words—slave trade, fraud, liar—hung in the air, sharp and heavy, waiting to draw blood. She stared at him, her chest heaving, daring him to crack. He didn’t. Instead, he reached into his breast pocket, slow and deliberate, pulling out a single black card. He held it up, letting the stage lights catch the faint shimmer of gold text: Echelon Eight – Global Infrastructure Recovery Taskforce. The hall went quiet, like someone had sucked the air out of it. Rowan turned to the crowd, his voice steady but not loud, like he was explaining something obvious to a room full of kids. “Ms. Aston’s talking about wire transfers, contracts—things she doesn’t understand. Those are part of a classified project. LangCorp, Echelon Eight, and the United Nations. We’re not moving slaves. We’re moving solar grids, clean water, schools. Real progress. The kind Mr.
Chapter 44: "Do Something, Lena!!"
“LangCorp and Echelon Eight aren’t just launching a project,” Rowan continued, “they’re opening a door. A real door. To real people. If you’re an architect, a designer, an engineer, a creative with ideas the world hasn’t seen yet—this is your moment. Not in ten years. Not when your uncle gets you a meeting. Now.” The room was still, hanging on his every syllable. He looked out again, and this time… this time his gaze brushed past a table at the back. Just brushed. Lena. Their eyes didn’t meet. Not fully. But she knew. She knew. Because for a split second, his lips curved into a smile. A dangerous smile. Like the memory of a man she used to know… now dressed in something bigger. He hadn’t changed. He’d evolved. And the room could feel it. “I’ll leave the rest to the professionals,” Rowan said, stepping back slightly. “But let this be your warning—and your welcome. If you’re going to enter this arena… come correct.” Then he handed the mic to Victoria with one black-gloved han
Chapter 43: The Man Without A Crown
Gasps swept through the room like a rising tide. Heads turned. Murmurs cracked the silence like static. Lena’s wineglass tilted in her trembling hand. Rowan Kane stepped out from the shadows. Tailored black. No lapel pin, no tag. Just presence. Heavy, unshakable, and sharp like steel. His shoes struck the stage like measured thunder—silent but echoing. It wasn’t just the cut of his suit or the calm in his gait. It was something more. Something that curled around the room’s throat and demanded breath. He said nothing as he joined her, his hands tucked in his pockets like he didn’t need this spotlight—like it was chasing him instead. And Victoria… she didn’t look at him the way friends looked at friends. No. Her smile was smaller now. A secret tucked behind her lips. The kind of smile that women who were never questioned wore. Like she knew something no one else did. He didn’t wave. Didn’t smile. But Victoria Lang did. She met him halfway, stepping down from the podium with the
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