MasukShe did not glance back. She did not have to. The trap had been laid, the cracks visible even from the edges of her flawless smile.But she did not count on Jenny White tracking her."Eva!"The jagged, shaking voice sliced across the buzz of leaving guests. Journalists froze in mid-step. Cameras revolved.Eva turned relaxed, undisturbed. Her face was serene, almost patronizing.Jenny was a few meters behind her, her eyes aglow with rage, her breath trembling.For once, the woman who had spent years controlling herself who’d smiled through humiliation, through gossip, through heartbreak finally snapped.Jenny’s heels clicked across the polished floor as she closed the distance, voice rising.“I’m warning you, Eva Ross. Stop this.”The crowd quieted instantly.Eva arched a brow. “Stop what, darling? Hosting a successful event?”Jenny’s hands balled into fists. “Stop playing with people’s lives! Stop twisting everything to your game!”The air grew heavy. Phones were produced. The came
A single message blinked before fading into the shadows: “Time to play, soon-to-be Mrs. Thompson. Let’s see what you’ll sacrifice for love this time.” Clarisse stayed in Saben’s arms, her head against his chest, feeling nothing but peace while danger hummed inches away, wrapped in silence, waiting. The storm she swore she’d fight wasn’t coming anymore. It was already here sporting Eva Ross's flawless smile.Eva Ross didn't have faith in luck merely leverage. And today, she possessed both. On the top floor of Reese Global Headquarters, she towered over the mirrored windows, her image imposed upon the city skyline like a queen gazing over her warfront. The joint media venture had just been sanctioned her invention, her tool, her platform. Four names were tied together under her control: Saben Thompson. Clarisse Campbell. JM Reese. Jenny White. Eva's lips curled, slow and deadly. "Let's see how long their perfect masks hold up under duress," she whispered, twirling the glass of champag
At the Thompson Estates, morning dawned in familiar rhythm of quiet luxury gleaming marble floors bathed in sunlight, servants briskly moving, and the faint scent of coffee hanging in the air.But just below the surface, a storm was brewing.Benedict Thompson, elder statesman of the empire and father of Saben, sat in his large study, the morning newspaper unfolded across his lap. His face was inscrutable piercing eyes reading the headline that shouted across the business page:"Trinity Partnership: Thompson-Campbell Enterprises Merges with Reese Corp and Zina Bank."He placed the paper down carefully. "So," he grumbled, "it starts."Seconds later, doors swung open and Saben entered, his usual aplomb dark attire, tie precisely knotted, but his jaw clenched with tension. Clarisse trailed behind him, poised but cautious.Benedict stood up, his eyes weighted on them. "I thought we agreed to steer clear of unnecessary allegiances," he said. "particularly those arranged by Eva Ross."Sabe
The glass door clicked closed behind them, shutting out the commotion of the meeting floor.Silence hummed like a live wire thin, tense, about to snap.Clarisse leaned against the window, her reflection shattered by the golden light seeping through the blinds. Down in the city, the pieces shimmered a thousand moving parts that reflected the turmoil in her chest.Clarisse (coldly): “She’s not just here for business, Saben. Eva Ross never shows up without an agenda.”Saben exhaled, slow and measured, as if talking to a bomb he’d built himself. He set his tablet down, then met her gaze with infuriating calm.Saben: “I know. That’s why I’m letting her think she’s winning.”Clarisse spun around, her voice slicing through the air.Clarisse: “You’re what?”Saben: “Keeping her close. Watching her moves.”Clarisse's laugh was quick humorless. "So that's your strategy? Let the snake wrap closer and hope it bites somebody else?"He moved toward her, steady, unflinching.Saben: "You're exaggera
The following morning, the air within Reese Corporation was filled with the calm before the storm. The light poured through the smooth glass halls, reflecting off steel and marble like cut edges. Every footstep, every voice, sounded magnified — the herald of something momentous.At the far end of the corridor, Eva Ross walked towards the executive boardroom in her black power suit, every step a woman who lived for control. Her heels clicked like an authority metronome.On the glass table of considerable length, a folder was placed primly at the center:"Joint Media Collaboration: Reese Corp x Zina Bank."Eva smiled not warmly, but with satisfaction.Today wasn't going to be about partnership. It was going to be about power.Her aide stuck her head in.Assistant: "Ms. Ross, Zina Bank reps are arriving. Mr. Reese will arrive in ten minutes."Eva: "Good. Make the photographers available. I want this deal to appear flawless even if it isn't."Throughout the city, Jenny White smoothed the
Morning sun streamed through the smoked glass of the boardroom of Reese Corporation. The city seemed to go on forever outside, gold and silver in the California sunlight. JM Reese strode in, his well-cut suit immaculate, face impassive the authoritative CEO to the finance man's eye.He was reaching the middle of reading the presentation script when the door creaked open.Breezy, polite, the familiar voice intruded.Jenny: “Good morning, Mr. Reese. I’m Jenny White, representing Zina Bank for today’s briefing.”JM’s hand froze over his pen. Slowly, he lifted his head.Their eyes met.For a moment, the air in the room thinned like time itself had folded between them.JM: (quietly) “Jenny.”Jenny: (composed) “Mr. Reese.”He forced a small smile, trying to break the tension.JM: “It’s been a while.”Jenny: "Since Tokyo. Yes. I didn't know I was going to run into you so soon."She moved to the end of the table, placing down her laptop and files. Her movements were professional, precise, b







