rise of the underdog

first cracked

# Chapter 4: The First Crack

The Union Club's dining room existed in a different century, where old money whispered over crystal glasses and deals worth billions were sealed with handshakes. Alex hadn't realized how much he'd missed this world until he walked through its mahogany-paneled doors.

Chen Wei-Ming sat at their usual table by the window, his weathered hands wrapped around a cup of tea that probably cost more than most people's dinner. At eighty-two, he still commanded the room without saying a word—conversations quieted when he passed, and even the most powerful men in New York nodded with genuine respect.

"You're late," his grandfather observed as Alex approached.

"Traffic." Alex settled into the leather chair, accepting the scotch that had already been poured for him. "And I had to make a stop."

"Business or pleasure?"

"Justice." Alex withdrew a manila envelope from his briefcase and slid it across the table. "Morrison Holdings' complete financial structure, debt obligations, and some very interesting information about their shipping insurance claims."

Chen Wei-Ming didn't open the envelope immediately. Instead, he studied his grandson's face with the intensity that had made him one of the most feared negotiators in the business world.

"Three years ago, you told me you wanted to prove you could build something without the family name. You've done that—Sterling & Associates is profitable, well-respected, and entirely your creation. So why are you here now?"

Alex swirled the amber liquid in his glass, watching the light catch and fracture through it. "Because I've learned the difference between building something and protecting it. I built a marriage, Grandfather. I built it on patience, devotion, and the belief that love could overcome anything. But I forgot to protect it."

"From what?"

"From the person I loved."

The words hung between them, heavy with three years of accumulated pain. Chen Wei-Ming opened the envelope and began reading, his expression growing increasingly grim.

"Morrison Holdings is leveraged to the breaking point," he said finally. "One major scandal and they'll collapse like a house of cards."

"I know."

"And you have that scandal."

"I have several."

Chen Wei-Ming set down the papers and leaned back in his chair. "Alexander, be very careful. Once you pull this trigger, there's no calling back the bullet."

"The bullet was fired when my wife chose another man's bed over our marriage." Alex's voice was quiet, but it carried an edge that made his grandfather nod slowly.

"Then let's make sure it hits its target."

Across town, Victoria Sterling-Chen was discovering that some secrets were harder to keep than others.

She stood in the marble bathroom of the Carlisle Hotel's penthouse suite, staring at her reflection while trying to convince herself that the guilt gnawing at her stomach was just pre-meeting nerves. The red lingerie she'd bought specifically for these encounters felt like armor now—expensive, beautiful armor that made her feel powerful and desired in ways her marriage had stopped providing.

"Victoria?" David's voice carried from the bedroom, warm and rich and everything Alex's had become lately. "You're being awfully quiet in there."

"Just touching up my makeup," she called back, though her hands were shaking too badly to apply lipstick properly.

When had this started feeling wrong? Three weeks ago, it had been thrilling—the secrecy, the passion, the intoxicating rush of being pursued by a man who saw her as more than just a devoted wife. David Morrison was everything she'd thought she wanted: successful, confident, generous with both his attention and his money.

But lately, especially after last night's dinner, something had shifted. The way Alex had looked at her when she'd lied about David's late-night call—not angry or suspicious, just... sad. Disappointed.

Like he knew exactly what she was doing and was waiting for her to be honest about it.

"Victoria." David's voice was closer now, right outside the bathroom door. "Baby, what's wrong? You've been distracted all week."

She opened the door and found him leaning against the frame, devastatingly handsome in his partially unbuttoned shirt and expensive slacks. Three months ago, that sight would have made her forget everything else.

Now it just made her think about Alex, patiently ironing his own shirts every morning because she'd stopped doing it months ago.

"I'm fine," she said, moving past David toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a spectacular view of Central Park. "Just thinking about work."

"Work?" David moved behind her, his hands settling on her waist. "We both know this stopped being about work weeks ago."

His reflection joined hers in the window, and Victoria was struck by how perfect they looked together—like something out of a magazine spread about successful, beautiful people. But reflections could be deceiving.

"David, what are we doing here?"

"Having the best afternoon of my week," he said, pressing a kiss to her neck that would have melted her resistance three weeks ago. Now it just felt... routine. Expected.

"That's not what I mean." Victoria turned in his arms, studying his face. "I'm married, you're—"

"I'm in love with a woman who deserves better than what she has." David's voice was sincere, his blue eyes earnest. "Victoria, you're incredible. You're beautiful, intelligent, passionate—everything a man could want. And you're wasted on someone who can't appreciate what he has."

The words should have thrilled her. Should have validated every doubt she'd harbored about her marriage, every moment of feeling unappreciated or taken for granted. Instead, they made her think about last night—about Alex texting that he loved her even after she'd been cold and distant all evening.

"Alex appreciates me," she said quietly.

David's expression hardened slightly. "Does he? When's the last time he took you somewhere that didn't require saving money for months? When's the last time he bought you something beautiful just because he wanted to see you smile?"

Victoria's fingers found the diamond bracelet David had given her last week—fifteen thousand dollars of guilt she was wearing on her wrist. Alex had noticed it, of course, and when she'd lied about it being a bonus gift from work, he'd simply smiled and said it was beautiful.

He hadn't asked why her company would give her such an expensive gift, or pointed out that her salary couldn't possibly justify it. He'd just accepted her lie with the same patient grace he'd shown for three years.

"David—"

"I love you." The words came out in a rush, desperate and raw. "I've been trying not to say it because I know how complicated this is, but I can't pretend anymore. I love you, Victoria. Leave him. Marry me."

The proposal hung between them like a bridge over a chasm—one step forward and there would be no going back.

"I... I need to think."

David's face brightened with hope. "Think about what? About whether you love me too? Because your body has been answering that question for weeks."

Before Victoria could respond, David's phone rang. He glanced at it and frowned.

"It's my father. I should take this—he never calls during the day unless something's wrong."

He answered with his usual confident tone. "Dad? What's—"

Victoria watched his expression change from confusion to alarm to something approaching panic.

"What do you mean 'financial irregularities'? Who's making accusations? ... What reporters? ... Dad, slow down, I can't—"

David sank onto the bed, his face pale. Victoria moved closer, catching fragments of heated conversation from the other end of the line.

"... SEC investigation ... insider trading allegations ... shipping insurance fraud ..."

"I have to go." David ended the call and was already reaching for his shirt. "Victoria, I'm sorry, but there's a crisis at the company. Some kind of financial scandal—reporters are calling, the SEC is asking questions."

"What kind of scandal?"

"I don't know yet." David was dressing quickly, his movements sharp with panic. "Someone leaked information about our shipping losses, and now they're claiming we've been filing fraudulent insurance claims to cover our debts."

Victoria felt something cold settle in her stomach. "Is it true?"

David paused in buttoning his shirt, and for just a moment, his mask slipped. She saw something in his eyes—not guilt exactly, but the kind of calculation that came from having bent rules before.

"It's complicated," he said finally. "Business is always more complex than outsiders understand."

It wasn't a denial.

"David—"

"I have to go handle this." He kissed her quickly, distracted and impersonal. "I'll call you tonight, okay? We'll figure this out."

And then he was gone, leaving Victoria alone in a hotel room that suddenly felt tawdry instead of romantic.

She dressed slowly, her mind racing. How had reporters gotten access to Morrison Holdings' private financial information? And why did this crisis feel like more than just bad timing?

Her phone buzzed with a text from Alex: *Hope your meeting is going well. I'll be home by six with dinner from that Thai place you love.*

The casual thoughtfulness of it—remembering her favorite restaurant, planning to cook for her even though she'd been distant and distracted for weeks—made her chest tighten with something that felt suspiciously like remorse.

She typed back: *Thank you. That sounds perfect.*

For the first time in months, she meant it.

Meanwhile, in a conference room forty floors above the chaos of Manhattan, Alex was watching his carefully orchestrated plan unfold with the precision of a Swiss watch.

"The financial reports were leaked to the Wall Street Journal at exactly 3:17 PM," James Wu reported, consulting his tablet. "The SEC received an anonymous tip about Morrison Holdings' insurance practices at 3:22 PM. And the Herald business section just published an exposé about David Morrison Jr.'s sealed settlement agreements."

Alex nodded, sipping his coffee with the satisfaction of a man whose patience had finally been rewarded. "Market reaction?"

"Morrison Holdings stock is down eighteen percent in the last hour. Trading has been temporarily suspended pending SEC review."

"And our friend Mr. Morrison?"

"Left the Carlisle Hotel seventeen minutes ago, looking like a man who's just watched his world catch fire."

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Alex could see the Morrison Holdings building in the distance—a gleaming monument to corporate ambition that was about to become a case study in how quickly empires could crumble.

His phone rang. Victoria's name appeared on the caller ID, and Alex felt a moment of something that might have been regret. Three years ago, he would have done anything to protect her from this kind of pain.

Now he was the architect of it.

"Hello, darling."

"Alex." Victoria's voice was small, uncertain in ways he hadn't heard since their first year of marriage. "Are you... are you really bringing home Thai food tonight?"

"Of course. Pad thai with extra lime, green curry medium spicy, and those spring rolls you always steal off my plate."

"You remember my order."

"I remember everything about you, Victoria." The truth of that statement settled between them like a weight. "Are you alright? You sound upset."

A long pause. Then: "Can we... can we talk tonight? Really talk? I feel like we haven't done that in a long time."

Alex closed his eyes, feeling the last threads of his old life pulling at him. It would be so easy to say yes, to pretend that one conversation could bridge three years of growing distance and betrayal. To believe that Victoria's guilt was the same thing as love.

But he'd learned the difference between what was easy and what was necessary.

"Of course," he said gently. "I'll see you at home."

After hanging up, Alex stared at his phone for a long moment. Somewhere across the city, Victoria was probably sitting in that hotel room, realizing that her perfect affair had just become decidedly imperfect. And somewhere else, David Morrison was learning that success built on shifting sand had a tendency to collapse without warning.

"Sir?" James Wu's voice was careful. "The divorce papers are ready for your signature whenever you're prepared to file them."

Alex looked out at the city sprawling below him—eight million people playing out their own dramas of love and betrayal, ambition and consequence. Somewhere down there, Victoria was discovering that choices had prices she'd never calculated.

"Not yet," he said finally. "Let her choose one more time. Let her decide if she wants to save our marriage or save herself."

"And if she chooses herself?"

Alex's smile was sharp as winter. "Then she'll learn that some games have rules she never knew existed."

The sun was setting over Manhattan, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson. In a few hours, Victoria would come home to find her patient husband waiting with her favorite dinner and a willingness to talk.

She would also find a man who was no longer content to be taken for granted.

The question was: which discovery would matter more?