FAZER LOGINEmily Evy, my assistant, came in the next morning, the door closing behind her as she made her report "there are concerns from the finance department about the restructuring.”"What concerns?” "They claim allocating much finds for compensation will affect this month's payroll""And the board? Any response?""None" she repliedIt was weird, my father and Martins were acting out of characters, I'd expected him to blow up by now. I looked up at Evy still standing there, "you can go. And let the vice-president know I would like to see him."Evy hesitated then bowed and leftI understood her hesitation. Everyone in the company knew I was on rocky ground with my father, but right now, I would prefer he lashed out and play his cards rather than keep quiet and act like I nothing was happening.My father came in a while later, coughing sharply as he took his seat before I even invited him to."Why have our almighty CEO asked for me? Trouble in paradise?" His tone was condescending, mocking.
Adrian The message came through before I finished my tea.I didn’t need to check the sender to know who it was. There were only a handful of people who would respond that quickly after leaving a negotiation table, and Frederick Hawthorne was one of them. A man like him didn’t delay decisions once he had made them—he acted.He's efficient, and that's why I work with him.I picked up my phone and opened the message."Done. She'll leave the country within forty-eight hours."Make it twenty four, and I can promise a 15% increase"His reply came almost immediately, "Deal"I smiled, setting the phone aside, reaching for my cup again. The tea had gone slightly warm, but I didn’t mind. Forty-eight was good.Twenty-four was better.The longer Vivian stayed in the country, the more room there was for disruption. With her cornered, she had the tendency to become reckless, that much was obvious from her stupid scheme at the party, I didn't want her causi g more problems.I stood, straightening
Adrian Frederick Hawthorne arrived punctually, as I expected. The café was quiet, private, and neutral—no distractions, no audience. I had chosen it for the simplicity of the transaction. Nothing more. Nothing less. He gave the nod and slid into the seat opposite me. “Adrian,” he said, voice smooth. “To what do I owe this meeting?” “I have a proposal,” I said, placing a folder on the table. The weight of it alone made him glance down, eyebrows raising slightly. “A proposal?” he said, leaning back. I nodded, glancing down at the file, “I heard your company is going through a rough patch,” I started. Vivian's scandal seems to have hit more than I expected I saw his jaw tighten, he knew I was the one behind it “I can get you back on your feet" I continued, "with even a ten percent increase in revenue. Guaranteed.” Hawthorne didn’t flinch. But I saw the flicker in his eyes—the calculation, the intrigue. He shifted slightly, a professional courtesy masking interest. “And the ca
Adrian I wasn’t surprised. Not even a little. The moment Martins turned to Rhoda and told her to apologize, I already knew how this would play out. He probably thought it was a smart move. A calculated sacrifice. Contain the damage. Preserve what little authority he still had. Show me—show us—that he could still maintain order in his household. But that was the problem with Martins. He always thought he was calculating. When in reality— He was predictable. Nine times out of ten, I could see exactly what he was thinking before he even acted on it. And that was precisely why he would never win against me. Not in the company. Not in this family. Not anywhere that required actual control. The old man saw it too. Long before anyone else did. I could still remember the conversations. The quiet frustration in his voice, hidden beneath layers of authority and pride. “Martins lacks presence,” he had said once, pacing slowly in his study. “He doesn’t command the room. He rea
Martins Remove me from the company? The words echoed in my head Slow. Calm. Controlled. That was how Adrian had said it. Like it was nothing. Like I was nothing. A muscle in my jaw ticked as I stared at him, seated there as if he owned the room—as if he had always owned it. As if he hadn’t taken it from me. From me. I inhaled slowly through my nose, but it did nothing to cool the anger rising in my chest. “There is no need for that,” I replied, my voice steady, although i wanted to tear him into pieces, he sat there, relaxed, as though he couldn't be bothered, but I knew better. That stillness? That quiet composure? It was control. Calculated, intentional, absolute, control. And it had always been like that. Even when he first came into this family. A bastard son. Dragged into this house by the old man like some kind of last-minute correction. Like a mistake that needed fixing. And I had accepted him. Tolerated him. Given him space, a place at the table. More tha
Emily “You—!” Rhoda snapped, her voice breaking at the edges. “You ruined my life!” I simply looked at her, at the desperation barely contained behind her anger, at the way her fingers curled like she didn’t know whether to point, strike, or grab onto something to keep herself steady. “If your life is ruined,” I started, my voice steady enough to cut through her hysteria, “then maybe you should reconsider why, because it definitely has nothing to do with me” Her eyes widened slightly, caught off guard—not by the words, but by the lack of reaction she expected from me. “You wouldn’t be in this situation,” I continued, my gaze locking onto hers, unblinking, “if you hadn’t tried to ruin me first.” I swept my eyes across the room, landing at Nathan, he stood near the side, leaning slightly against the arm of a chair, his expression carefully composed—but not enough to hide the flicker of irritation in his eyes. I turned fully toward him. “What exactly was the plan?” I asked, my to
Emily Viktor Cross. The name echoed in my mind as I stared at him, still half crouched by the roadside like a complete disaster. Three years. It had been three years since I last saw him. Back in college, Viktor had been my senior. We met during a Freshers’ party organized by the Sculpting Dep
EmilyThe next day was supposed to be mine.A rare, precious Sunday with no office meetings, no forced dinners, no rehearsed smiles. I had planned to spend it sprawled across my bed in oversized pajamas, curtains drawn, phone on silent. Maybe later in the afternoon I would go through some paperwork
AdrianI inhaled sharply the moment the words left her mouth.Let’s break up.For a second, the world inside the car went silent. Not the quiet kind of silence—the suffocating kind. The kind that presses against your chest until breathing becomes difficult.My greatest fear had just come true.The
Emily I didn’t expect him to take it so calmly. When the words left my mouth—Let’s break up—I had braced myself for something else entirely. Anger. A harsh laugh. Maybe even Adrian completely losing his temper. He was capable of it. I had seen flashes of it before—when someone crossed a line,






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