December 6th, Manhattan, a blizzard was raging outside.
Ava sat in the chairman’s office on the 88th floor, her gaze fixed on the two freshly printed agreements spread out on the desk, her knuckles whitening with the force of her grip. She had thought she’d won the first round. In reality, she’d merely been granted entry into a far more intricate and perilous game of chess.
At exactly 9:17 a.m., Landon’s private elevator arrived with a soft
ding. He was alone, accompanied only by a cryptic smile that played on his lips. His black overcoat hung open, revealing a sliver of his collarbone—where the tooth mark she’d left days ago had scabbed over, a faint, crimson badge of their tangled history. He flipped the lock on the door with a casual flick of his wrist, then slammed a file thicker than hers onto the desk, his voice low and lazy, oozing with that characteristic nonchalance of his. “Little rose, I’ve read your proposal. The terms are quite pretty, but unfortunately… they’re missing something crucial.”
Ava’s expression remained impassive as she reached for his file and flipped it open. The first page sent her heart plummeting, as if it had seized in her chest and stopped beating altogether. This was no repayment agreement—it was a
Right of First Refusal Contract. The clauses spelled out her worst nightmare in black and white: whenever Rozier Holdings issued new shares, offered rights issues, or launched convertible bonds in the future, Worth Group would hold the unshakable right to subscribe to the same proportion of the offering, at a price locked in at “30% below the issue price”. To put it bluntly, for every dollar she raised in future financing, Landon would be entitled to buy a corresponding stake for a mere seventy cents. The grand vision she’d slaved over, the lucrative future she’d painstakingly mapped out—seventy percent of its profits would be carved away by him, leaving her with nothing but crumbs.
Ava lifted her eyes to meet his, her voice as cold and still as a frozen lake. “This is daylight robbery.”
Landon chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that reverberated in the quiet office. He rounded the desk, leaned forward, and braced his palms on either side of her chair, caging her in the shadow of his tall frame. “No, little rose. This is me teaching you the rules of the game.” His finger hooked under her chin, tilting her face upward, and his thumb brushed gently across her lower lip, sending a shiver down her spine despite her resolve. His voice dropped to a gravelly whisper, intimate yet menacing. “I don’t want the two hundred million principal back. Not even the interest. But from this moment on, I get a seat at the table for every single capital move Rozier Holdings makes. You want to pay me back? Fine—do it with your future profits.”
Ava dug her nails into her palms, the sharp pain jolting her back to clarity, a cruel reminder of her precarious position. She knew this was Landon’s masterstroke. He wasn’t going to swallow her company whole in one bite; he was going to chain her to his chariot, bleed her dry slowly, and turn her into a puppet dancing to his tune. If she refused now, she’d be declaring insolvency on the spot—and the creditors would waste no time in seizing her 51% controlling stake.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, then forced a smile to her lips, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Fine. I’ll sign.” As the tip of the pen glided across the paper, she could almost hear the sound of her own bones breaking, the sound of her pride and autonomy shattering into a million irreparable pieces.
But Landon didn’t leave immediately. He leaned even closer, his breath fanning her ear, his voice soft as a lover’s murmur, yet laced with an unspoken threat. “Oh, and one more thing, little rose. I’ll be waiting for you in East Hampton this Monday night. Don’t disappoint me.”
He turned and strode out of the office, leaving behind a faint, crisp scent of cedar that lingered in the air like a ghost. Ava remained rooted to her chair, her fingers trembling uncontrollably. She’d thought she’d bought herself a reprieve, a chance to catch her breath. Instead, she’d merely jumped out of one wolf’s den and straight into another, deeper, more inescapable one.
Down in the B2 parking garage, Kai was even more brazen than Landon. He didn’t bother going up to the office; he cornered Ava the second she stepped out of the elevator, a wall of a dozen black SUVs forming a tight semicircle behind him, blocking every possible escape route. He leaned lazily against the door of his G-Wagon, a butterfly knife twirling effortlessly between his fingers, his grin cocky and dangerous, the kind that spelled nothing but trouble.
“Got that two-billion check glued back together, did you?” He pressed the tip of the knife against the crumpled check he’d somehow gotten his hands on, then flicked his wrist. The tape holding it together snapped with a sharp
crack, and the check split into two pieces, fluttering to the ground like worthless confetti. “I don’t want it anymore.” His eyes glinted with malice as he tossed the shredded paper into the frigid wind, then suddenly grabbed her chin, the cold steel of the knife’s blade pressing against her skin, forcing her to look up at him. “But you’re not getting your hands on that piece of land at Brooklyn Harbor. Not in a million years.”
Ava’s heart sank like a stone. She’d pulled every string, burned every bridge last night to dig up information—and what she’d found was that the sealed bid documents weren’t in the city hall’s possession at all. They were in Kai’s hands. She’d thought she was holding a winning chip, a bargaining tool to turn the tables. Turns out, it was nothing but a bait, a trap she’d walked into willingly.
Kai leaned down, his nose almost touching hers, his voice rough and gravelly, dripping with menace. “Want to make a deal? Sure, I’m game. But here’s my terms: I get fifty percent of the profits from the underground tunnel project. And besides that…” He dragged the back of the knife along the side of her neck, his touch feather-light yet searing, stopping at the faint circle of finger marks left by Landon earlier. He grinned, a predatory, wolfish smile that made her blood run cold. “Every Wednesday night, you’re mine. No bodyguards, no cell phone. You show up exactly when I tell you to. No exceptions.”
Ava stared at him, her eyes a tempest of rage, fear, and helplessness. She knew exactly what would happen if she said no. Kai would shut down the secret drug smuggling route she’d spent months setting up, the only lifeline keeping her mother’s life-saving medication flowing. In a month, her mother would be out of medicine—and out of time. She had no choice. None at all.
“Fine,” she whispered, her voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the howling wind outside, a broken sigh more than a word. “But if you so much as lay a finger on my brother, this deal is off. Immediately.”
The tip of Kai’s knife lingered on her neck for a heartbeat, then he pulled it away, sheathing it with a smooth flick of his wrist. He let out a low laugh, amused by her defiance, yet seemingly satisfied with her answer. “Deal. I’ll be waiting for you on Wednesday, princess.”
He turned and climbed into his G-Wagon, the roar of the engines drowning out everything else as the convoy of SUVs peeled out of the garage, leaving a cloud of dust and exhaust in their wake. Ava stumbled backward, her back hitting the cold concrete wall, her fingers still trembling violently. She’d thought she was playing both sides, using Landon and Kai against each other to save her company and her mother. But in the end, she was nothing but a puppet, with both wolves sinking their teeth into her throat, holding her fate firmly in their claws.
By noon, Ava found herself in the VIP ward of the hospital, the sterile smell of antiseptic mixing with the faint scent of lilies that filled the room.
Nora was propped up against the headboard, her face paler than it had been the day before, a thin layer of condensation fogging up her oxygen mask. When she saw Ava walk in, she tried her best to muster a smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners despite her weakness. “Baby… how was your day?”
Ava sank to her knees beside the bed, pressing her forehead against the back of her mother’s cold hand, her voice muffled and trembling, thick with unshed tears. “Mom, I messed up. I messed up the first step, big time.” She told her everything, from the moment Landon walked into her office to the confrontation with Kai in the parking garage, laying bare every humiliating detail, every trap she’d fallen into, every concession she’d been forced to make. When she finished, her eyes were burning red, but not a single tear fell—she’d cried all her tears long ago, leaving only a hollow ache in her chest. “I thought I was smart enough to outplay them. Turns out I was just being naive. So, so naive.”
Nora’s fingers trembled as she stroked Ava’s hair, her voice weak but steady, brimming with a quiet strength that had always been her greatest gift to her daughter. “Silly girl… you don’t learn to walk without stumbling first. Losing once isn’t failure—it’s paying the price for growing up.” Her thumb brushed away the invisible tears on Ava’s cheek. “Remember this: wolves only respect those who are fiercer than them. You didn’t lose today. You just paid your tuition f*e.” Her eyes glinted with a fierce, maternal determination. “Next time, sharpen your knife until it’s so sharp it can slice through bone. Then you go for their throats. Don’t hold back.”
At three o’clock in the afternoon, the rooftop terrace of Rozier Holdings’ headquarters was blanketed in a thick layer of snow, the wind howling fiercely as it whipped Ava’s hair around her face.
Summer came running toward her, her eyes red and swollen with anger, her voice cracking with frustration. “Ava! Ivy posted something about you in the alumni group this morning—she was talking behind your back, being so passive-aggressive, saying you only got where you are by sleeping your way to the top. And she even dug up that old video of you getting splashed with wine at the birthday party… it’s gone viral! It’s been shared over a hundred thousand times already!”
Ava stared at the screen of her phone, her blood turning to ice in her veins. The video had been edited into a grid of nine clips, with a malicious caption plastered across the top in bold, black letters:
The True Colors of a Bastard Daughter: Even When Doused in Red Wine, She Can Only Smile and Take It. The comments section was a cesspool of insults and mockery, people she’d once called classmates tearing her reputation to shreds without a second thought.
Her fingers were cold as ice, but a slow, chilling smile spread across her face, a smile that sent a shiver down Summer’s spine. “Summer, book me a table at Le Coucou tonight. Eight o’clock. Tell Ivy I want to catch up with her. Old times’ sake.”
Summer froze, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you crazy? She’s waiting for you to make a scene! She wants nothing more than to see you fall apart!”
Ava lifted her eyes, her gaze cold and sharp, a glint of ruthless resolve burning in their depths—the kind of look you only see in someone who has been pushed to the brink and has nothing left to lose. “If you don’t go a little crazy, how do you ever grow up?”
That night, at eight o’clock sharp, Le Coucou restaurant was bathed in warm, golden light, the soft clink of wine glasses and the murmur of conversation creating a cozy, upscale atmosphere—a stark contrast to the storm brewing between Ava and Ivy.
Ivy swaggered over to her table, dressed head to toe in a custom Chanel gown, her lips curled into a sickeningly sweet smile that masked the venom in her eyes. She twirled a champagne flute between her fingers, her voice dripping with fake concern. “Oh, Ava, darling. You look absolutely
terrible. Heard you had quite the day today—got played by both Landon and Kai, huh? Must be so humiliating.”
Ava didn’t bother with pleasantries. She simply pushed her phone across the table, the screen lit up with a screenshot of Ivy’s private chat with Victoria. The messages were damning, black and white proof of their conspiracy.
Victoria: Once my fingers heal, she’s the first one I’m going to take down. I’ll make her regret ever being born.
Ivy: Don’t worry, babe. I’ve dug up all her dirty laundry and spread it all over the internet. She’s finished.
Ivy’s face drained of all color, turning as white as a sheet, the champagne flute slipping from her hand and clattering to the floor, the liquid spilling across the carpet. Ava leaned forward, her voice soft as a feather, yet laced with a deadly menace that made Ivy’s blood run cold. “Ivy, I used to think of you as a sister. That’s why I’ve let you get away with all your petty little schemes for so long. But from this moment on…” She leaned even closer, her lips brushing against Ivy’s ear, her whisper sharp as a shard of glass. “If you dare to touch my family, or sully my reputation one more time… I’ll do to you exactly what you wanted to do to me. I’ll break all ten of your fingers, one by one, then toss you into a ICU in Switzerland to rot. And no one will ever find out who did it.”
Ivy was trembling so violently she could barely stand, but she forced a laugh, a high-pitched, nervous sound that betrayed her terror. “Y-You wouldn’t dare! You can’t get away with this!”
Ava stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress, and flashed Ivy a sweet, innocent smile—one that made her skin crawl. “Why don’t you test me and find out?”
Late that night, a private jet cut through the clouds, bound for London.
Sebastian had personally come to pick her up, his face etched with worry as he told her the devastating news: their mother had suffered a sudden acute rejection reaction, and she needed to be transferred to a specialized hospital in London immediately, no delays allowed. The cabin of the jet was quiet, save for the low hum of the engines, the two of them alone with their thoughts. Ava leaned back in her seat, her eyes closed, her face pale and exhausted, every muscle in her body screaming with fatigue. She’d lost today, lost miserably. Outmaneuvered by Landon, threatened by Kai, humiliated by Ivy, and now, her mother’s life hung in the balance, hanging by a thread.
Sebastian draped a warm blanket over her shoulders, his touch gentle and comforting, his voice low and soothing, like a lullaby. “Get some sleep, Ava. It’s a seven-hour flight to London. You need to rest.”
Ava didn’t open her eyes. She reached out blindly, her fingers closing around his wrist, and pulled him down toward her. She buried her face in his chest, clinging to him like a child clinging to a lifeline, just like she used to do when they were kids and she’d had a nightmare. Her voice was muffled by his shirt, thick with tears that finally, finally began to fall, hot and heavy against his skin. “Brother… I messed up today. I messed up the first step so badly.”
Sebastian’s hand rested gently on the top of her head, his palm warm and steady, a silent source of strength. He let out a low laugh, but his voice was rough, choked with emotion, a hint of barely contained rage simmering beneath the surface. “So what if you messed up? Everyone stumbles.” His fingers stroked her hair, his voice softening, brimming with a protective love that had always been her anchor. “I’ve told you before, haven’t I? Anyone who dares to hurt you will pay for it a hundredfold. I’ll make sure of that.”
Ava didn’t lift her head. She just clung to him tighter, her fingers fisting in the fabric of his trench coat, as if holding on to him would keep her from falling apart completely. She knew, deep down, that this embrace was a temporary reprieve, a fleeting moment of vulnerability she couldn’t afford to indulge in for long. But tonight, she was so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of being strong, tired of wearing a mask of courage when she felt like she was drowning inside. Just for tonight, she wanted to pretend—pretend she was still that little girl, the one who could hide behind her brother’s back and let him shield her from all the cruelty of the world.
The jet soared higher, piercing through the thick layers of clouds, the stars twinkling faintly outside the window. In her brother’s arms, Ava finally, truly understood what growing up meant. It meant driving every single thorn that life threw at you deep into your own flesh, then yanking them out, one by one, with your bare hands, bleeding and screaming, until those thorns forged you into something sharper, something stronger, something unbreakable. It meant turning your pain into a weapon, your scars into armor, and walking forward, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how many knives were pointed at your throat. It meant learning to survive, even when the whole world was against you.
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Last Updated:
2025-12-10 15:56:16
