Karma's coming

Liam's Pov

London had hardened me. The late nights buried in economics, the endless lectures about mergers and acquisitions, the luxury parties where men twice my age shook my hand with fake smiles—it had all left a mark. But when I had finally returned, the city no longer felt the same.

I wasn’t just Liam Brooks anymore. I'm now the heir to my father’s empire, the man who would carry the Crownwell & Brooks name into a new dynasty.

But of course, Father wouldn’t hand me the crown so easily.

“Manage the departmental store first,” he had said, his voice stern with calculating eyes. “Prove you can build from the ground before you inherit the sky.”

At first, I raged against the condition. A billionaire’s son reduced to running aisles of clothes and perfumes—it felt insulting. But I swallowed my pride, took the reins, and worked harder than I ever had. And it paid off. Sales tripled in less than a year. Yet still, I was only the man behind the curtain, not the face they applauded. And that needed to change.

And though Investors started whispering my name with a hint of respect.

Still, respect wasn’t enough. I wanted power.

And that’s when the idea struck me. Partnering with the top designer brands. Lock down alliances with the pillars of fashion, and no one—not even Father—could deny me a seat at the billionaire’s table.

Thankfully, two companies had already fallen neatly into my pocket. One handshake here, one dinner there, a few persuasive smiles, and doors swung open. Now only one remained—the elusive third. And rumor had it that the company is also owned by a young woman which makes it Perfect.

The sound of footsteps pulled me from my thoughts as I watched Mark strolled in, hands in his pockets. He's my best friend, my right hand man, and currently the only person who had the nerve to barge into my office without knocking.

“You’re grinning like a man who just found out Santa’s real,” he teased, dropping into the leather chair opposite me.

I leaned back in the leather chair of my office, savoring the taste of victory before it even came. Mark was already reviewing some documents with his usual calm before I broke the silence.

“Two down, Mark. One more, and I’m untouchable.”

He smirked without lifting his eyes. “Untouchable, huh? Big word, Brooks. Don’t let your head explode before the deal is signed.”

I chuckled. “It’s not arrogance if you can back it up.”

Finally, he glanced up, his lips twitching into a grin. “And how do you plan on sealing this third deal? Because rumor has it, this company doesn’t play by anyone’s rules. They’re selective. Not the type to be dazzled by numbers alone.”

“Selective?” I scoffed. “Everyone has a weakness. I just have to find it.”

Mark leaned back in his chair, watching me with amusement. “Or… you could just do what you always do—flash that Brooks smile, tilt your head at the right angle, let those honeyed words do their magic. Worked on the last two, didn’t it?”

I raised a brow. “I don’t just talk, Mark. I deliver.”

He laughed. “I’m just suggesting you use every weapon you’ve got. From what I’ve heard, the owner is young, ambitious, maybe even as stubborn as you. You’ll need charm, not just contracts.”

“The haute couture & awards is holding a week from now. She’ll be there." I tapped my fingers against the desk, my mind already working. The thought of standing before this mysterious heiress at the upcoming event few days from now sent a ripple of anticipation through me.

Mark grinned. “Exactly. The press will be everywhere. Investors, designers, sharks in expensive suits, the entire industry would be present—it’s the perfect stage for you to make your move.”

I smirked, running a hand through my hair. "Stage, huh!?."

“Then so be it,” I said slowly. “If charm is the weapon, I’ll sharpen it. By the end of the night, she’ll either sign with me—or regret refusing.”

Mark gave a low whistle. “There’s that fire again. Just make sure you don’t underestimate her. Women like that… they’ve got claws.”

I stood, walking toward the window, staring down at the world below, my reflection glinting back at me from the glass window, a view most people would kill for. Yet, for me, it was a cage. Seven years ago, I would’ve given anything for this skyline. But now it was just a reminder that my life was being dictated by someone else’s rules.

“Claws don’t scare me Mark. I was born to tame lions.” I reminded him of that.

Mark’s laughter filled the room, "You pull her brand under Crownwell & Brooks, and not only will sales explode, the old men on your father’s board will have no choice but to acknowledge you.” he added and I smiled.

But even as he said it, my mind wandered to that final, elusive woman—the one CEO no one could seem to pin down easily. She had built a brand with ruthless speed, but stayed hidden from the spotlight, a ghost among giants.

She's a mystery and the last key to my throne. Am never missing this opportunity.