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last update2025-05-26 19:26:34

Brent didn’t go back to the Foundation the next day. He tried. He showered and dressed, even put on the same watch he’d worn the day of the press conference, as if routine could protect him.

But when he reached the lobby, his legs just wouldn’t move. The big glass doors seemed too heavy. He stood there for a long time, heart pounding, watching people come and go behind the new security desk.

A week ago, he’d felt like he owned this city. Now he couldn’t even cross the street. The assassination attempt had had a huge effect on him.

He turned around and walked back to the elevator, not trusting himself to look anyone in the eye.

Lucy found him on the couch, coffee gone cold in his hands. She didn’t say anything, just sat down beside him and pulled her knees up, the way she used to on bad days.

“There’s a board meeting in an hour,” she said softly.

He nodded, not looking at her.

“We can move it here,” she offered. “Or postpone. Or—”

“No.” Brent’s voice surprised him. I
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  • 182

    The Grand Starlight Ballroom buzzed with workers stringing up golden lights and polishing marble floors. Sarah Chen stood in the center, her navy suit sharp but her face tired, prison scars peeking through her makeup. Her gala, set for tomorrow night, was her big move to bury Sophia Chamberlain’s shine and pull in investors for Chen Industries. Charles Walker’s dirty money—cocaine and trafficking cash—had kept her factories running, but after Victor Grant and Leo Harper rejected her, Sarah was desperate. She needed a win, and this gala would be it. “Sophia’s finished,” she muttered, checking a clipboard of guest names—rich tycoons, city bigwigs, all her targets. A worker hung a banner: *Chen Industries: The Future is Now!* Sarah’s smile was sharp, like a blade. She’d hired a jazz band, booked a celebrity chef, and sent invites to every power player in town. Her phone buzzed with a text from Charles: *Gala better work. My partners are watching.* Sarah’s jaw tightened.

  • 181

    Rain pounded the city streets, turning them into slick, dark mirrors. Lucy hurried along a narrow sidewalk, her scarf soaked and her coat clinging to her shivering frame. Her car hadn't been brought back. Her Phoenix Foundation office was blocks behind, its warm lights a fading memory. Since last night’s attack, every shadow seemed alive, every footstep a threat. She clutched her phone, her thumb hovering over Sophia’s number, but the rain muffled her courage. The stranger in the cap who’d saved her lingered in her mind—his rough voice, his quick fists—but she didn’t know if he’d come again. A black van idled at the corner, its engine a low growl. Lucy’s heart jumped, her steps quickening. The street was empty, shops shuttered, the rain driving everyone inside. She glanced back, catching a glimpse of a man in a hooded jacket, his face hidden, trailing too close.

  • 180

    The Sky Lounge pulsed with city lights, its glass walls reflecting the night like a mirror. Sarah Chen sat in a private booth, her gold dress shimmering like a flame. Her red lipstick was bold, her prison scars hidden under makeup, but her eyes glinted with desperation. Leo Harper, a real estate tycoon with deep pockets, was her last shot to lock in Chen Industries’ comeback. Charles Walker’s dirty money—cocaine and child trafficking cash—had opened new factories, but Sarah needed Leo’s billions to crush Sophia Chamberlain. After Victor Grant’s rejection, she couldn’t fail again. Sarah sipped champagne, her fingers tapping the glass. She’d planned every move—low laughs, soft touches, promises of power. Leo was younger than Victor, flashier, known for liking bold women. “He’s mine,” she whispered, practicing a sultry smile.

  • 179

    Sarah Chen’s apartment was a dim, with lamp casting shadows on the walls. She stood by a window, staring at the city’s glowing lights. Her black dress from last night’s failed meeting with Victor Grant hung on a chair, a reminder of her stinging rejection. Her phone buzzed with a news alert: *Victor Grant Snubs Chen Industries, Cites Scandal Concerns.* Sarah’s jaw clenched, her red lipstick smudged from biting her lip. “Sophia,” she hissed, blaming her rival for the rumors that scared Victor off. She had no clue Brent Walker was the shadow behind it all. She grabbed her phone and called Charles Walker, her voice sharp like glass. “Victor said no,” she snapped. “Your ‘clean’ money didn’t help. We need another investor—now.” Charles’s voice was smooth, like oil. “Calm down, Sarah,” he said. “Our factories open today. I’ve got a new guy—Leo Harper, real estate tycoon. He’s in town

  • 178

    The Sky Lounge glowed like a star atop the city’s tallest tower. Glass walls showed off twinkling lights below, and soft jazz filled the air. Sarah Chen sat in a private booth, her tight black dress hugging her curves. Her prison scars were hidden under makeup, and her red lipstick shone like a warning. She sipped wine, her eyes locked on the door. Victor Grant, the billionaire shipping king, was her ticket to lock in Chen Industries’ comeback. Charles Walker’s dirty money—cocaine and trafficking cash—had revived her company, but she needed Victor’s billions to make it untouchable. Sarah adjusted her hair, practicing a flirty smile. She’d charmed men before—rich ones, dumb ones, all fell for her laugh and promises. Victor would be no different, she thought. Her phone buzzed with a text from Charles: *Get Victor. Factories open tomorrow. Don’t mess up.* Sarah smirked. “Sophia’s going down,” she whispered, thi

  • 177

    The city skyline glittered like a crown, but Sarah Chen’s office felt like a prison. Her desk was piled with papers about Chen Industries’ new factories. She wore a tight red dress, her prison scars hidden under makeup, but her eyes burned with hunger. Charles Walker’s dirty money—cocaine and trafficking cash—had brought Chen Industries back, and now Sarah needed allies to keep it alive. Sophia Chamberlain’s Woman of the Year win last night stung like a slap, but Sarah was ready to fight. She leaned back in her creaky chair, scrolling through her phone. A news alert popped up: *Sophia Chamberlain Opens New School, Donates $5 Million.* Sarah’s grip tightened, her nails clicking on the screen. “You’re not winning, Sophia,” she muttered. “I’m coming for you.” Her lawyer, Mr. Lee, knocked and shuffled in, his tie crooked. “Sarah, the FBI’s still sniffing around,” he said. “Your bribe sca

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