He Made Her Queen, Then Took Her Crown

Chapter 7: Echelon Eight

 Lena slowed her steps, instinctively drawing back, her curiosity piqued..

 Her eyes flickered to the men he was now conversing with. They were important. City movers. Influencers. She didn’t know them by name, but she could see the look of reverence in their eyes, how they leaned in when Rowan spoke, how they laughed at his words, nodding in agreement like he held the key to their futures.

 Wait… was this the same man who had been her dead weight?

 Lena's breath caught in her throat. It was.

 The realization hit her like a tidal wave. She thought she had left Rowan behind, thought she was moving up in the world—thought she was finally free of him, out from under his shadow. But now? He had risen to become someone she could no longer ignore, someone whose very presence could shape her future.

 Suddenly, the murmur of the crowd reached her again. The voices of those who had once ignored her were now softened, respectful. It wasn’t her that they were admiring. It was him. And that realization burned through her like a brand.

 Still, Elena dismissed it. It was all nothing but a show off. Who knows, he must have painstakingly walked up to these men and asked them to play these roles so she would be bittered. 

 “Guess what, Rowan Kane, I am not the slightest jealous. I know you for who you are. A loser who will never amount to anything.” she said to herself. And with that, she walked to the bar to get a bottle of wine. 

 The drink went through her oesophagus so easily that her hands were moved to pour more and more and more. Why was she drinking? Why? Was she intimidated by Rowan? Was she furious that all attention had been stolen by a man she kicked out? Or was she scared that she could not stand on her own without her husband?

 Just then, someone tapped on her shoulder. “You might want to stop with the drinking already.” 

 She looked up at a well-dressed man. A little too formal for the party. “Please, come with me. Mr. Granger and all of the Obsidian Tech board members will see you now. I am hoping you are prepared?” the man said politely.

 “Shit!” she murmured under her breath. She had completely forgotten about her meeting with the board members. 

 She wiped her lips and steadied herself, gripping the edge of the counter for balance. The sharp taste of wine still lingered, but it couldn’t drown out the storm brewing in her chest. She turned to the man who’d summoned her — crisp suit, professional but distant, not a trace of emotion on his face.

 “Please follow me, Miss Aston,” he repeated, polite but firm.

 Lena straightened her posture, running her fingers through her hair, her mind scrambling for an excuse that might justify the light sway in her step. She followed him past the murmuring crowd, away from the bar’s dim glow and back into the cold, professional world of Obsidian Tech — her world.

 The hallway felt longer than usual, like each step pulled her deeper into a trap she hadn’t seen coming. When they finally stopped, the man pushed open the heavy oak doors of the boardroom. The sight inside made her pulse skip.

 Every seat around the long table was filled. Obsidian’s finest — the same people who only weeks ago toasted her for landing the Apex Holdings contract — now sat stony-faced, their expressions carved from stone. No warm greetings. No smiles. Only silence.

 Mr. Granger sat at the head of the table, his cufflinks shining faintly under the room’s dimmed lights. He didn't gesture for her to sit — not yet. He simply studied her as if he were reading the last page of a failed report. Finally, with a flick of his wrist, he pointed to the empty seat.

 “Sit, Lena.”

 Her heart sank as she obeyed. The weight of the room pressed down on her shoulders.

 “There’s no easy way to say this,” Granger began, his voice as sharp as the tension hanging in the air. “The contract you closed with Apex Holdings... is about to be pulled.”

 Lena’s lips parted, but nothing came out at first. Then, with a sharp breath, she found her voice. “That can’t be right. The deal was iron-clad. I secured the signatures myself. There’s no reason—”

 “There wasn’t,” Granger cut her off, leaning forward, “until Echelon Eight Group made a call this morning. It’s on the verge of collapse. Our investors are withdrawing, we’re running low on trust, Lena — the kind of trust it takes years to build and only seconds to lose.”

 He tapped a file sitting on the table, thick with freshly printed termination notices and withdrawal statements.

 “Apex Holdings didn’t pull out on their own,” he continued, his tone heavier now. “They were advised. Every one of their partners and affiliates had received the same silent warning — terminate dealings with Obsidian Tech, or suffer the consequences. Nobody dares ignore a call from Echelon Eight.”

 Lena swallowed hard, feeling her chest tighten.

 “This isn’t about numbers anymore. This is about reputation, power. The moment that call came through, the entire table flipped against us.” He leaned back, the exhaustion clear in his voice. “And unless you find a way to salvage this mess, Lena, there won’t be a deal left to save by the time the week is out.”

 The silence was suffocating. She could feel the unspoken accusation swirling in the air: this wasn’t just a business failure — it was personal.

 And Echelon Eight had made it clear.

 The name froze her blood cold. Echelon Eight. She’d heard whispers about them for years. Everyone had. An unseen, untouchable force sitting quietly at the top of the corporate food chain. They didn’t need press releases or board meetings to make their presence known — when Echelon Eight spoke, the world listened.

 “And when the Godfather of the business world says jump,” another board member added grimly, “the only question you ask is ‘how high.’”

 Lena’s mind reeled. “But why would they... why would Echelon Eight even bother with Apex Holdings? Why target us?”

 Granger exchanged looks with Megan Aston, her mother, who sat farther down the table, perfectly composed, cold as glass.

 “That’s what we’d all like to know,” he said flatly. “But interestingly, they didn’t blacklist you entirely. They made it clear — they’ve seen ‘potential’ in you.” He leaned back in his chair. “You have three days to fix this. Get the deal back on track, make it work, or you lose more than just a client, Lena.”

 Her stomach turned. She already knew what “lose more” meant. Obsidian Tech was her entire identity, her badge of self-worth, the foundation of the life she’d built away from Rowan. Losing that would leave her with nothing.

 The sound of her mother’s voice snapped her back from her thoughts. Calm. Measured. Poison wrapped in silk.

 “Three days, Lena,” Megan repeated. “That’s generous, considering the mess. And dear,” she tilted her head slightly, eyes sharp, “perhaps it’s time to learn that if you want to reach the top, you must let go of dead weight.”

 Her gaze slid, ever so slightly, toward Dominic Voss, who sat two chairs away, tapping his fingers on the table like he owned the room. A smug, knowing smirk tugged at his lips as he locked eyes with Lena.

 “You want to succeed, sweetheart?” Megan added, her voice soft but cutting. “Then maybe it’s time you find new weight to help carry the load.”

 The room felt like it was closing in, the walls shrinking around her.

 Three days. Just three days to save her deal, her status, her place in the world. But her mind wasn’t on the deadline. It was on the name still ringing in her ears: Echelon Eight.

 And one question gnawed at her, more vicious than any warning the board had given her.

 Why did Echelon Eight care about her deal?