CHAPTER 3

CHLOE POV

Sunlight came pouring through the thin blinds of my apartment window, and it felt like someone was using my skull as a punching bag. I groaned and pulled a pillow over my face, hoping to block out the brightness. Unfortunately, it did nothing to stop the pounding in my head.

Memories from last night slowly came back in painful flashes. The emerald dress. Ethan's cold betrayal. The sticky floors of The Blue Velvet Lounge. And then... Liam Vance.

My eyes flew open.

I sat up so fast that the room started spinning. Big mistake. I threw off the duvet, stumbled out of bed, and practically crawled across the hardwood floor toward the oversized black hoodie I'd tossed aside the night before. I dug frantically into the front pocket.

My fingers brushed against a crumpled piece of paper. I pulled it out.

It was a damp, wrinkled cocktail napkin. Staring back at me was my messy, alcohol-fueled drawing of an exploding building beside a stick figure in a suit. At the bottom, written in shaky handwriting, were the words: Let's start our own agency. — C.H.

"Oh, God," I whispered, pressing my free hand against my forehead. "Please tell me I didn't actually say that. Please tell me I imagined the whole thing with New York's architectural golden boy."

My phone, lying on the nightstand, suddenly started buzzing against the wood. It buzzed once, twice, then three times in quick succession, followed by a series of email notifications.

I reached for it with a shaky hand and unlocked the screen.

My notifications were a complete mess. My LinkedIn feed was practically exploding with alerts, refreshing so fast that the app kept crashing. Then a message from one of my former coworkers popped up.

Chloe, are you insane? Have you seen the architectural journals?!

With my thumb moving faster than my still half-asleep brain, I opened the browser and clicked on a major business and design news site. A headline in bold letters immediately caught my attention.

«ARCHITECTURAL PRODIGY LIAM VANCE RESIGNS FROM VANCE-ATLAS, ANNOUNCES NEW INDEPENDENT FIRM CO-FOUNDED WITH EVENT VISIONARY CHLOE HARPER.»

I choked on my own spit and broke into a coughing fit as I stared at the screen.

Below the headline was an official press release published just an hour ago. It even included a high-resolution photo of Liam standing outside a sleek glass building, looking as calm as ever. There was also a short quote about our "unprecedented upcoming joint ventures in modern high-end hospitality design."

And right below that article were three separate notifications from high-end corporate clients requesting immediate consultations for their upcoming winter galas and product launches. Every single one was addressed to Harper & Vance Enterprises.

"Harper and Vance," I muttered to my empty bedroom, repeating the name as panic started to set in. "There's no Harper and Vance! I don't even have a desk! I have a yoga mat and half a box of stale crackers in my pantry!"

My phone buzzed again. An unknown number flashed across the screen.

I answered and pressed it against my ear. "Hello?"

"You're late." Liam's calm, annoyingly smooth voice came through the speaker. I could hear papers rustling in the background. "It's 8:15 AM, Chloe. Our first client consultation is at ten, and the espresso machine in the new office hasn't even been unboxed yet."

"Liam!" I hissed, jumping off the bed and pacing around my tiny room. "What were you thinking?! That was a drunken joke I scribbled on a soggy napkin in a bar! I don't have an agency, I don't have a team, and as of last night, I don't even have a job!"

"Correction. You had a terrible job working for people who had no idea what you were worth," Liam replied, sounding completely unfazed by my growing panic. "And as for the napkin, a written agreement made under the influence of tequila is still a binding mutual commitment in the court of spite. Besides, my PR team has already taken care of the press release. Pretty efficient, don't you think?"

"Efficient? You blindsided me!" I ran a hand through my messy hair, my heart pounding against my ribs. "I can't just jump into a partnership with Manhattan's most ruthless architect because of some stupid dare!"

"You're not jumping into anything without a plan. I've already secured a temporary workspace downtown," Liam said, his tone shifting from teasing to businesslike. "I've sent the address to your phone. Wear something professional this time. I'll see you in twenty minutes."

Then the call ended.

I stared at my screen, unable to believe what had just happened. For a moment, I seriously considered throwing my phone across the room.

But then I looked around my cramped apartment. The bills piled up on the counter. The reminder that my rent was due next week. The memory of Ethan standing there while he watched my career fall apart.

Something inside me shifted. The panic was still there, but beneath it, a familiar determination was starting to take over.

They wanted to ruin me? They thought I'd quietly disappear and let them get away with everything?

Not a chance.

I let out a sharp breath, walked to my closet, and pulled out a charcoal blazer and a pair of tailored trousers. After changing, I grabbed my leather portfolio bag and checked my reflection one last time.

If Liam Vance wanted a war against Sterling-Vanguard, then I'd make damn sure we had a fighting chance of winning it.