Marie Drams’s fingers hovered over her phone as the words lingered in her mind: "I’m just getting started."A chill ran through her veins. Her eyes narrowed in the image of the glass that faced her. She had been playing a long game, having waited for the perfect time to destroy all that lay between her and what she sought. But now..now, it was not just about her anymore. It was about Charles, about Fiona, about power and legacy.Her phone vibrated again. Another text from her informant. She paused before unlocking it."Charles is mobilizing. He's not accepting this lying down. His reaction isn't what you expect."The color drained from Marie's face. What did that mean? His reaction isn't what you expect?Charles had always been predictable. Even in his rebelliousness, he remained in the lines. But now. Now, it seemed he was playing a game she wasn't familiar with.With a quick movement, she slammed the phone onto her desk, the screen shattering against the richly polished wood with a
Charles had always taken pride in being the one in control, the weaver of his own story. But now, seated in his study with a view out at the blackened London skyline, the nagging feeling in his gut only deepened. His mind kept drifting back to Marie. The woman who had been his fiancée, the woman whose ambition cut far deeper than he had ever predicted.Her power play against Fiona wasn't an easy move. It was a call to war. And a war of the kind that could ruin everything Charles had built, everything he was now attempting to create with Fiona.The phone rang just after dinner, breaking through his introspective quiet. It was his reliable chief of security, a gruff voice on the other end."Sir, we have evidence. Marie is exerting her influence in the press. She's already let out some juicy rumors regarding Fiona's history. The press is running with it."Charles's knuckles turned white around the rim of his glass as the words landed on him like a gut punch. Marie was merciless, but he h
The words resonated within her head like a mantra as she stalked through her lavish London estate. She had no use for the shallow theatrics of an engagement. The game was on, and so were the new rules. She would turn the script on its head. The Billion legacy wasn't simply about money—it was about power. And power, Marie had long learned, was the most fragile commodity on the planet. One stumble, and it disintegrated.She was done with Charles, and done with Fiona, playing in a game she had already won. Fiona, with her guileless pretence and her so-called betrothal, was nothing more than a pawn in the master game Marie had been weaving since she was a child.She stood in front of a large mirror, smoothing out the snug black dress that clung to her. Her reflection stared back, a picture of elegance and refinement, but inside? Inside, there was only rage, seething and churning just below her surface.Marie needed to hit them hard, hit them fast. Fiona would be but a ghost in the media's
Marie Drams had long boasted of her mastery. All in her life had been carefully plotted, every step, every breath, and every utterance. But as she fastened her gaze on the radiant face of her phone, her hold became so fierce that she was certain the device would shatter.Billion Engagement 2nd time around: The Bride is No White Angel.Fiona Generys in Gorgeous Midnight Gown for Her Wedding to Charles Billion.The words seared her.Her breath froze. All that time, months no, years, the carefully constructed story she had come to believe in was disintegrating before her very eyes. The image of Fiona standing tall in that infamous midnight dress slapped her across the face. There was something in the way Fiona stood tall unapologetic, poised that Marie couldn't deny. It was defiance. And it was deadly.Marie's brain went into hyperdrive. She had carefully planned this game, thought she knew every single piece on the board. But this. this woman Fiona Generys was not what she had anticipate
The early morning sunlight cut through the tall arched windows of the Drams townhouse like judgment.Marie sat at the long breakfast table, untouched espresso growing cold in front of her. She was dressed in a spotless cream-colored suit silent armor and a color of lipstick called Power Play. The phone was already clutched in her hand. Her assistant stood at the kitchen entrance, tablet in hand, attempting not to wince."They've opened the archives," he filed in sternly. "Jamaica acted quickly. Board minutes. Employee records. Even files on the Foundation's offshore accounts."Marie didn't flinch. "They're late. I already cleaned out the bad stuff.""Yes, but.." He paused. "It's not the information that counts. It's the story."Marie's jaw clenched."Go on.The aide shifted on his feet. "They're reworking the narrative. Casting Fiona as the surprise matriarch-in-waiting. Quiet dignity. Selflessness. There's a whisper campaign beginning she's being pushed by unseen threats, stalkers, s
The lamp over her desk was surgical, sterile slicing through black velvet like an inquisitor's eye. The tempest had passed, but the earth still smelled of damp land and anxiety.Marie drummed manicured nails on polished mahogany. Her assistant hovered at her elbow, a laptop open and three phones flashing silently on the table. The names were cued up on screen—executives, trustees, silent partners. Men and women with smiles to match and shaking ethics."List of names," she repeated, with an edge. "Start with the board members of the Billion Foundation. They have. room to maneuver when it comes to loyalty."The assistant nodded, fingers flying across the keyboard. "Four of them are already on shaky ground with Jamaica. Two owe Charles more than they'll admit.""Good," Marie said. "Wounds fester in silence. Apply the right pressure, and even legacies crack."He hesitated, then asked again, his voice softer this time. "And Fiona?"Marie's lips curled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes.