Chapter 6

Trixie's POV 

The host’s voice carried loudly across the ballroom.

"Please welcome the head of West Tech’s partnership project, Miss Trixie Quinn."

For one painful second, the room seemed to forget how to breathe. Then more than two hundred faces turned toward me.

I stepped through the open doors, keeping my pace measured and my shoulders straight. The ballroom glittered beneath its chandeliers, all marble, crystal glasses, and expensive wine. 

Three years ago, this same set of people had watched me walk out with my dignity in pieces while Levi Smith stood beside his new fiancée and accepted applause for a future he had built on my work.

Tonight, I walked in with a title of my own. The whispers began before I reached the podium.

“Isn’t that Levi Smith’s ex?”

“She’s running the project?”

“I thought she left the city.”

I heard every word. I let them pass through me without leaving a mark.

The heels of my shoes clicked heavily against the marble. I didn’t hurry, and I didn’t look down. The silver ring on my right hand caught the light as I moved. 

My father’s ring rested between my fingers and my thumb brushed its edge once, a habit I made myself stop.

At the front of the room, the host team stepped aside. I took my place behind the podium and looked out over the crowd.

Executives who had once barely noticed me straightened in their seats. A few offered cautious smiles while others studied me as if they were trying to decide whether I was the same woman they remembered.

My face remained steady, and I didn't give them an answer.

My gaze moved across the bidders’ tables. Adrian Vale, founder and CEO of Vale System sat with his team, watching me across the hall with a small twitch on his lips.

The Smith brothers occupied a table near the center and I let my eyes pass over it without pausing, not even for a second.

I didn't look for Levi among the crowd and I didn't need to.

I noticed Mark Luthur, Williams Smith’s security chief, standing beside the chairman. While everyone else whispered or watched, Mark remained perfectly still.

His attention rested on me, unreadable. He was the only person in the room who hadn’t reacted to my name.

I pushed the thoughts away and returned my attention back to the audience.

“Good evening,” I began lightly, keeping my voice steady. “Thank you for joining us. West Tech appreciates the interest each company has shown in this partnership.”

My voice sounded steady through the microphone. I had spent three years learning how to make a room listen without raising my voice.

“We have received proposals from several qualified bidders. Over the coming six weeks, our team will conduct individual meetings, review supporting materials, and assess each proposal against the same standards. The strongest proposal will be selected. Company name, personal relationships, and outside influence will have no bearing on the decision.”

I paused long enough for the words to settle.

Then I greeted the bidders by company name, one after the other. 

The acknowledgement was brief and professional. Adrian’s team received the same courtesy as the others and when I reached Smith Group, I said its name exactly as I had said every other name.

There was no pause and no warmth in the tone I had used. Across the room, Williams Smith rose from his chair.

He crossed the ballroom with the smooth confidence of a man accustomed to being welcomed wherever he went. His smile was broad, his hand extended before he reached me.

“Miss Quinn,” he smiled warmly. “What a pleasure to see you again. We’ve all missed you.”

I accepted his hand once. I released him before he could turn the greeting into something more familiar. “Chairman Smith.” My face stayed neutral as I acknowledged him.

His smile stayed steady and confident as he looked at me from the podium. He was a highly respectable businessman in this business world.

“West Tech meets every bidder under the same terms,” I said.

The people nearest us could hear. I didn’t lower my voice or soften the statement with a laugh. Williams’s expression remained pleasant, but the smile had stopped reaching his eyes.

“Of course,” he said. “I would expect nothing less from a professional.”

“I’m glad we agree.” I keep my eyes fixed on the clipboard in front of me before staring back at him.

Williams glanced toward the other bidders, then back at me.

“There are a few matters I’d like to discuss with you,” he said. “Perhaps we could speak privately. Just the two of us.” He had lowered his voice, but I had no intention of allowing the request to become a secret.

“West Tech holds no private discussions before the process begins,” I answered at my usual volume. “Not with any bidder. Including Smith Group.”

Silence spread around us.

A man at Adrian’s table pressed his lips together, looking as though he was fighting a laugh. Williams’s hand lowered to his side. For the first time that evening, he seemed uncertain of what to say.

Then he gave a short nod. “An admirable policy.”

“It’s a necessary one.” I pointed out, without breaking a sweat.

He returned to his table without another word.

I faced the room again. My pulse had begun to beat harder, but no one needed to know that. The exchange had been simple. 

Flynn Smith.

Our eyes met across the room briefly, his attention was steady and assessing. My thumb found the ring again. I pressed it once, then lowered my hand to the podium.

The past was not going to make decisions for me tonight. “Now,” I said, “I’d like to explain the evaluation schedule.”

A staff member brought up the timeline on the screen behind me. Six weeks. Six individual meetings. Each bidder would have an opportunity to present its strategy, answer questions, and provide additional documentation. The process would remain confidential until the final decision.

“No winner will be named tonight,” I continued. “The announcement will follow the completion of all evaluations.”

I picked up the printed schedule.

“The meetings will begin next week. We’ll proceed in the order listed, with one private session for each bidder. The same evaluation team will attend every meeting, and all questions will be documented.”

I read the companies aloud, giving each its allotted week. My tone stayed even. I could sense the room tracking the order, measuring the time, searching for meaning in every placement.

The Smith brothers remained silent as I reached the final line. “Smith Group, the final week.” I finally lifted my eyes and Flynn’s eyes stayed fixed on me.

He wasn’t  looking surprised or  angry, either. His expression was controlled, but something had sharpened behind it. He held my stare as if he had just worked out exactly what I was doing.

For three years, the Smith family had assumed I was someone they could dismiss, someone whose place could be taken and whose silence could be mistaken for weakness.

They were welcome to keep that assumption.

The schedule was set. The rules were clear. And if Flynn Smith believed he could read me, he would have six weeks to discover how wrong he was.

I lowered the paper and forced a small gentle time that probably didn't reach my eyes. “Thank you for your time. We look forward to reviewing your proposals.”

Applause rose around the ballroom, polite at first, then stronger as the host stepped forward to close the event. I moved away from the podium while the room came alive again with conversation.

I kept my expression neutral but as I passed the Smith table, I felt Flynn’s gaze follow me.