Architect Of Ruin

ZARA’S POV

"I’m offering you an opportunity, Mr. Vane. One you’d be wise to take.”

I didn’t wait for an invitation to sit. I didn’t wait for his assistant to finish introducing me. I simply walked into the center of the obsidian-clad office and looked Asher Vane in the eye.

Asher didn’t move. He sat behind his desk, a glass of amber liquid catching the morning light, his expression unreadable. He was the only man in the city powerful enough to make Mark Sinclair sweat, and right now, he was looking at me like I was a glitch in his morning schedule.

"And what opportunity would that be, Miss...?"

"Storme.Zara Storme," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline screaming through my veins. "The opportunity to watch the Sinclair Group go under. I want to bury them, and I’m the only one who knows where the bodies are hidden."

Asher set his glass down. The air in the room shifted. "That is a very specific, very personal ambition. Mark Sinclair is currently the most sought-after man in private equity. Why would I bet against the winning horse?"

"Because he’s not the horse," I snapped, leaning over his desk. "He’s the carriage. I’m the horse. I’m the one who pulled him to the top. I built his infrastructure, I rehearsed his pitches, I even fixed his damn coffee while I was rewriting his mergers.”

Asher’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of amusement or perhaps respect crossing his face. "And what do you want in exchange for this... sabotage?"

"A behind-the-scenes role. I want an office on this floor, total digital anonymity, and a salary of five hundred thousand dollars, paid upfront."

Asher let out a short, dry bark of a laugh.

"That’s outrageous. I don’t pay my executive directors that much, and I actually know their names. I can’t do that for a ghost with a grudge."

"Then you can watch him sign the Sterling deal on Friday," I said, turning on my heel.

"Because without me telling you where the leak in his valuation is, he’ll win. My offer is take it or leave it, Mr. Vane.”

“ I don’t have time to haggle."

I was halfway to the door when his voice cut through the silence. "Wait."

I stopped, my hand hovering over the handle.

"The money will be in your account by noon," Asher said, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous tone. "Don't make me regret this, Zara."

"You won't," I said, and for the first time in two days, a genuine, cold smile touched my lips. "But Mark Sinclair definitely will."

Walking into Vane Enterprises that morning, I was ready to let it all burn.

Trusting a man was the mistake I had made yet again, almost like my father’s betrayal wasn’t lesson enough .

I had built Mark Sinclair from scratch. I had covered for him at interviews when he was too hungover to speak. I had stayed up until 3:00 AM designing his startup logos and refining his projections while he slept soundly beside me.

After three years of my life, he dared to cast me aside and marry into money. Fool.

I wasn't going to beg.

I wasn’t going to trade words with him. I was going to bury him beneath everything he thought he owned. I’d watched my father abandon my mother to fight cancer alone after twenty-four years of marriage.

He didn't even wait for her to be gone before he remarried, leaving her to wither away in a hospital bed while he played house with a woman half her age.

It broke my heart to see my mom suffer like that, and when she passed, I swore off men.

I knew they were all the same.

But then I fell for Mark, and stooped low enough to believe he was different.

I built a throne for him, and the second he sat on it, he used his power to kick me away. Never again.

All men are beasts

I just had to decide which one I was going to feed first.

The memory of the breakup was still a raw, jagged wound in my chest. It had happened the night of our supposed engagement party.

I was in the bedroom, adjusting the silk of my midnight-blue dress, wondering why Mark hadn't come in to help me with the zipper.

When I walked into the living room, he was standing by the window, a glass of scotch in one hand and a white envelope in the other. He didn't look at me.

"Zara," he said, his voice as cold as the ice in his glass. "The plans have changed. I won't be going to the party with you tonight."

"What are you talking about? The car is downstairs, Mark."

"I’ve reached an agreement with the Thorne family," he said, finally turning to look at me.

There was no remorse in his eyes, only a calculating, corporate distance. "I’m marrying Camille. The merger requires an alliance with her father’s firm. It’s a strategic necessity."

He walked over and placed the envelope on the marble counter.

"There’s a check in the envelope. Ten million. More money than you’ll ever be worth. It’s enough for you to disappear, find somewhere new, and start over. You’re smart, Zara..you’ll land another project. But the Sinclair Group doesn’t need brilliance anymore. It needs a wife with a name. And you don’t have one.

A girl from a broken home. That’s what he saw when he looked at me. He didn't see the woman who had saved his company from bankruptcy twice in the last year. He saw a tool that had outlived its usefulness.

"It's just business, Zara," he said, as if that explained everything. "Don't make this difficult. I’ve already had your things moved into the guest room for tonight, but I’d prefer if you were gone by morning."

I looked at the check. I picked it up, folded it slowly, and looked him straight in the eye.

"You're right, Mark," I said, my voice eerily calm. "It is just business. And you’ve just made the worst decision of your life. I hope you enjoy the view from up here. It’s a long way down.”

I went to the bedroom, packed one suitcase, and walked out of the penthouse without looking back. My father had taught me how to handle this.

He had shown me exactly how men leave. I was way too good at goodbyes to let Mark see me break.

I stood in front of the desk at Vane Ent., the mahogany cool beneath my palms. The nausea passed as quickly as it came, replaced by something sharper. Steadier. Power. The room stopped spinning because I wasn’t the one losing control . I was the one about to take it.

Stress, anger, heartbreak… none of it mattered anymore. Clarity did.

“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you Mr Vane.”

I didn’t feel doubt. I felt readiness.

I was the architect of it all and I wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left standing for Mark.