Romans de Mus Story

The next morning, Liliana walked through the glass doors of the Grandland Holdings headquarters with an aura of arctic serenity. She had slept soundly for the first time since their initial meeting, fueled by adrenaline and a renewed sense of purpose. She no longer felt like prey. She was a hunter, and she was surveying enemy territory.She had just placed her bag on the table of the temporary conference room allocated to her when the intercom buzzed.“Ms. Dawnson,” Clara’s perpetually nervous voice crackled. “Mr. Blackwood would like to see you in his office. Now.”Liliana sighed. She had expected at least a few hours of peace to work before the next confrontation. Clearly, Sebastian had no intention of granting her that luxury. Grabbing her tablet, she braced herself for another battle over lobby blueprints or budget projections.She entered Sebastian’s office without knocking. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her hesitate. He was standing at the window, as usual, h

The minimalist calm of Liliana’s office felt like a violation. She sat behind her sleek, white desk, staring blankly at a complex lighting schematic on her monitor, but she saw none of it.Her mind was a chaotic storm of Prada suits and poisoned words. The encounter with Eleanor, followed by the tense, charged confrontation with Sebastian, had ripped open scars she had foolishly believed were healed.She had spent five years meticulously building a fortress around her heart, brick by painful brick. In the space of a single afternoon, Eleanor had strolled up to the gates with a battering ram, and Sebastian had simply walked through the breach.Her hand trembled as she reached for her phone. Her finger hovered over her lawyer’s number. Breach of contract. So what? The thought was a wild, desperate scream in her mind. I’ll pay the penalty. I’ll declare bankruptcy. I’ll start over again, in a different city, a different country. Anywhere but here. Anywhere but near them.The financial rui

The moment the heavy glass door of Sebastian’s office closed, sealing them inside his silent, minimalist fortress, the thin veneer of civility between mother and son evaporated. Delilah had been dispatched with a dismissive wave and a promise to "discuss fabrics later," leaving the two predators alone.“Are you out of your mind?” Eleanor began, her voice not loud, but low and venomous. She walked to the center of the room, her Prada suit a slash of severe color against the muted greys of the office. “Bringing her back into this? Into our lives?”Sebastian remained behind his vast, empty desk, a deliberate barrier between them. He slowly sat down, a king returning to his throne, and steepled his fingers. “She is a contractor, Mother. The best in her field. This is a billion-dollar project. I required the best.”“The best?” Eleanor laughed, a short, sharp sound devoid of humor. “There are a dozen event planners in this city who are just as competent. Delilah’s own cousin runs a very suc

Liliana was in her element. She moved through the pre-event chaos with a serene, unshakable authority, a clipboard held like a royal scepter.“No,” she said calmly to a flustered lighting technician. “The uplighting on the west columns should be a soft champagne, not that ghastly yellow. We’re creating an atmosphere of timeless elegance, not a crime scene.”“And you,” she said, turning to a catering manager, “the canapés will be served on silver trays, not wood. This is a billion-dollar launch, not a rustic barn wedding. Please correct it.”Her team moved around her with a quiet, focused energy. They worshipped her. She was demanding, yes, but she was also brilliant, and she never asked for anything she couldn't do herself. For the first time in days, since Sebastian had re-entered her life, she felt completely in control. This was her kingdom.“Impressive.”The low, familiar voice behind her sent a jolt straight through her. She didn't have to turn. She could feel his presence, a mag

The restaurant was Sebastian’s choice, of course. A discreet, obscenely expensive, and dimly lit place called 'The Foxy Room,' where each table was hidden away in a private alcove shrouded by thick velvet curtains. It wasn't a venue for a business meeting. It was a venue for affairs and secrets. His power play was clear and arrogant. He would create a stage of intimacy, and she would have to perform on it.Liliana arrived at eight o'clock sharp, dressed in a simple but powerful black dress that radiated a cool professionalism. She found him already waiting, not rising, just watching her as she approached.“Ms. Dawnson,” he said, his voice as smooth as velvet. “Punctual. I’ve always admired your efficiency.”“I’m paid to be efficient, Mr. Blackwood,” Liliana replied, sliding into the booth, keeping as much distance as the cramped space would allow.A waiter appeared noiselessly. “Your usual wine, Mr. Blackwood?”Sebastian didn’t take his eyes off Liliana, a glint in his gaze in the can

The next morning, Liliana walked into the headquarters of Grandland Holdings feeling like a general entering enemy territory after signing an unwanted truce. She had been awake all night, Sebastian’s words, his touch, his almost-kiss, replaying in her mind like a storm. She hated him for trapping her. She hated herself even more for the traitorous shiver she’d felt when he was so close.Sebastian's assistant, a nervous-looking young woman named Clara, greeted her. “Good morning, Ms. Dawnson. Mr. Blackwood is waiting for you in his office.”Sebastian’s office was a reflection of the man himself: vast, minimalist, and commanding. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls offered a stunning, dominant view of the city, as if he owned everything the eye could see. The furniture was all dark chrome and black leather, expensive and uncompromising. There were no photos. No personal touches. Just power.He was standing by the window, his back to her, just as he had been on the first day. A deliberate power

Rose Reed’s razor-sharp intellect, honed over decades of corporate warfare, returned quickly once the initial shock subsided. The detectives, though authoritative, were ultimately constrained by procedure. She used every legal trick in her arsenal, every carefully cultivated connection, to buy herself time."Gentlemen," Rose stated, her voice regaining its cold steel as she composed herself, "you have presented a warrant. I fully intend to cooperate with this investigation. However, I will not do so without my legal counsel present. You may conduct your initial search, but I will provide a formal statement only in the presence of my lawyers, in my offices, or at a time convenient to us both."The detectives, bound by the legal necessity of due process, relented slightly. They conducted a swift, focused search of the study and Julian’s old rooms, but Rose successfully delayed her own immediate questioning. The police left the premises, leaving Rose alone, but not victorious. She had me

The Reed mansion was experiencing an unsettling silence. The customary hum of efficient domestic staff and ambitious deals had vanished, replaced by an oppressive stillness that felt like a chokehold. The house had become a tomb, suffocating under the weight of financial ruin and the humiliation unleashed by the morning’s media firestorm.In her vast private study, Rose Reed remained rooted behind her shiny desk. She had not bothered to illuminate the room fully, relying only on the weak, cold light filtering in from the grounds. She was a queen on a collapsing throne, her body rigid in her severe maroon suit, her face a mask of cold hatred directed at the external forces that had dared to challenge her.She picked up her secure phone only to slam it back down; her lawyers were uselessly advising caution, but Rose’s pride demanded vengeance.They think they’ve won the war with a piece of paper and a dead son's letter, she thought, her lips thinning into a venomous line. They are fools

The media firestorm ignited instantly. Across the globe, the revelation of Julian Reed's final moments and Rose Reed's cruelty dominated every headline. Social media became a furious mob.The hashtag #JusticeForJulian trended worldwide, replacing any sympathy Rose had manufactured in the past decade with visceral public rage. The corporate world watched in disbelief as the Reed empire crumbled not just from financial failure, but from moral bankruptcy.At the Knight Mansion, Ashton, Avery, and Sarah remained glued to the television, watching the inevitable implosion unfold. The news anchors, usually composed and professional, looked genuinely shaken as they relayed the latest developments."They're calling Rose a murderer," Sarah murmured, her voice tight with disbelief as she watched an analyst debate the legal implications of Clara's anonymous testimony. "This is beyond anything Rose can control. The witnesses are solid, the evidence is damning."Ashton nodded grimly, his gaze fixed

The silence in Ashton Knight's study was heavy, charged with the weight of their impending actions. Weeks of meticulous planning, covert operations, and strategic leaks had culminated in this single moment, the point of no return.Ashton sat at his desk, his expression unreadable, a formidable mask of control that had seen him through countless battles. Avery sat opposite him, meanwhile Sarah stood by the window, her own gaze distant as she scanned the grounds, a subtle nod to the heightened security.The door to the study opened, admitting Alistair. He entered with a quiet, professional air. The seasoned lawyer radiated an aura of calm efficiency, but his usually placid face now held a trace of gravity."Everything is ready," Alistair announced, his voice carrying a note of serious finality. He placed a sleek, thin laptop on the desk between Ashton and Avery. "The package has been prepared. Katherine Vance is waiting for the final authorization. We only need your final approval, Asht

The opulence of the Reed mansion did little to cushion the devastating impact of Rose’s rage. Oliver Reed was finally dragged back to the estate by two nervous security guards and immediately ushered into his mother’s private study. The guards had found him at Aurelia, still half-asleep on the velvet sofa, his expensive suit rumpled, smelling faintly of stale whiskey and self-pity.Rose was waiting. She stood behind her desk, still wearing the severe gray suit from the morning, but her composure was gone. Her eyes burned with a cold, terrifying fury that promised imminent destruction.Oliver stood before her, his posture slumped, his face pale and contorted with fear. He attempted to straighten his jacket, a pathetic, futile gesture of defiance."Sit down, Oliver," Rose commanded, her voice dangerously quiet. The lack of volume was more menacing than any shout.Oliver didn't dare argue. He knew all along that he screwed up. He collapsed into the nearest leather armchair, his legs givi

The exclusive bar, Aurelia, pulsed with the intoxicating rhythm of manufactured success. Oliver Reed, basking in the fabricated adoration of Ashton’s hired performers, felt the familiar, addictive return of his ego. He held a glass of the most expensive champagne, already on his third refill, blissfully unaware that his "admirers" were highly paid assets deployed for his destruction.He was the undisputed center of attention."Mr. Reed, your insights into the market collapse are truly genius," said Mark, a handsome actor playing a venture capitalist, leaning in conspiratorially, his eyes wide with feigned admiration. "To liquidate your position, even partially, just before Elysian Dynamics’ total implosion. That’s a foresight only a true market survivor possesses.""Pure instinct, my boy," Oliver slurred, his chest swelling with self-importance. He took another deep swig of champagne, savoring the burn and the validation. "I saw the signs clearly. You have to be ahead of the curve. Yo