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Chapter 1

Power Play

Alexandra’s POV

"Breathe, Alexandra."

The air inside the conference center was thick — not just with luxury, but with ambition so sharp, it felt like it could slice skin.

Everything gleamed.

The polished floors, the gold-accented nameplates, the hollow smiles stretched across power-hungry faces.

Deals were being made in whispers. Alliances formed over fake laughs. Enemies smiled as they tightened invisible nooses.

I adjusted the cuffs of my blazer, trying to ignore how badly my palms itched.

Nerves? Maybe. But also something else — the weight of legacy, of constantly having to prove myself.

You belong here, I reminded myself. More than any of them.

This was my moment.

My keynote speech on innovative marketing strategies was supposed to solidify Thompson & Co. as a force in the industry.

And me? As more than just William Thompson’s daughter.

The stage lights hit me full in the face as I stepped up. My heart kicked against my ribs — too loud, too fast — but I forced my spine to stay straight and my chin higher. No cracks. Not today.

I took a deep breath and stepped up to the mic.

"Good morning," I said, cool and even; my voice didn’t shake. "It’s an honor to be here among leaders who are not only shaping industries but rewriting them."

Polite applause. Perfect. I scanned the room, my expression calm, controlled. Just like my father taught me.

“Smile more,” he always said. “Be perfect; or don’t bother coming home.”

I had already adjusted to the environment when I saw him.

Ethan Walker.

Leaning against the back wall like the smug bastard he was. Suit tailored, tie loosened just enough to look rebellious, arms crossed like he owned the damn place.

Our eyes locked — a brief, electric clash — and his mouth tilted into that annoyingly charming smile. The one that always seemed two seconds from saying something that would make me want to slap him... or worse.

I rolled my eyes. I knew that smile. I knew the way his compliments always came laced with subtle jabs. Ethan Walker was a master at getting under my skin — and he knew it.

My stomach clenched at the thought of him, but I shoved it down. I couldn’t let that voice live rent-free in my head today.

As I launched into my speech — our company’s rise, our innovations — something shifted. The room leaned in. They were listening. I was commanding attention.

I allowed myself a tiny internal smile. ‘See, Dad? I’m not a disappointment.’

I wrapped up, opened the floor for Q&A. Easy stuff. A few harmless questions, or rather, predictable questions from business analysts, until—

"Impressive numbers, Ms. Thompson."

Ethan’s voice cut through the air like a blade dipped in honey — low, lazy, mocking.

I immediately got a warning alert from my instincts to brace myself.

"But tell me — what’s your strategy when the competition catches up to you… Or worse, beats you?"

I felt the ripple of laughter before I saw the smirks in the crowd. My pulse jumped.

I turned to him slowly, lifting one brow. Control. Poise. Don’t let him win.

"I don't plan to lose, Mr. Walker," I said, silk over steel. "But if you’re offering to try, I’m sure it’ll be… educational. For you."

Laughter. Applause. A flicker of triumph.

Ethan’s smirk deepened — part impressed, part provoked.

"Oh, I don’t plan to lose either," he said, his voice dropping just enough to curl heat down my spine. "You’re just not used to men like me."

I wanted to throw something. Instead, I smiled sweetly. Not today, Walker.

Although this wasn't over. Not between us. It never was.

The rest of the conference passed in a blur of handshakes and small talk. As I moved through the reception, glass of champagne in hand, I felt his presence before I saw him.

He raised his glass. “To innovation.”

"To success,” I countered, “without stepping on anyone’s toes.”

He laughed. “I like a challenge. Maybe we should talk partnerships.”

I gave him a look. “I think we’ll stick to competing, Mr. Walker.”

The banter danced, light and sharp — like knives dressed in velvet. But something else lingered beneath it. A shift. An edge.

Rumors had been circling about a new player in the market. Someone who could potentially disrupt the entire landscape.

As Ethan walked away, something in his gaze lingered — darker. More serious.

As I gathered my things, Hannah rushed up to me, her face pale.

"You need to see this," she whispered, slipping a black envelope into my hand.

No return address. No markings. Just one word printed neatly across the front.

PRIVATE.

I frowned, a cold chill sliding down my spine.

I opened it.

Inside, one single sheet. At the top, a company name I recognized. Below it, in sharp, deliberate ink:

We’re coming for everything you built. And you won’t see it coming.

My breath hitched.

Across the room, Ethan was watching me.

But there was no usual smugness. Only… warning. Like he knew something I didn’t.

He didn’t approach. Neither did I.

I walked away fast, my heels clicking like gunshots against the polished floor, Hannah hurrying behind me.

---

It was morning again, and I worked as usual.

My fingers flew across the keyboard — anything to drown out the unease curdling in my gut.

Then my phone rang.

Unknown ID.

I was a bit surprised because a call like this was supposed to come in through my assistant.

I answered warily. "Hello?"

“This is Ethan,” came the voice I didn’t expect.

"What do you want? Are you stalking me now?" I snapped.

"Meet me. Coffee shop on 5th. We need to talk,” his tone was tinged with urgency as he ignored my sarcasm.

My instincts told me to decline, but something about his tone piqued my curiosity. "Talk about what?"

"You'll see."

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone. My instincts screamed to ignore it, but that look he gave me earlier — it wouldn’t leave me alone.

Minutes later, I walked into the dimly lit coffee shop. He was already there, sipping something dark, eyes locked on me like he’d been waiting his whole life.

I barely sat down before he started.

"Marcus Blackwood is making his move."

I froze.

Marcus Blackwood. A name said in hushed whispers. Ruthless. Calculated. Dangerous.

"And?" I asked carefully.

Ethan leaned in, eyes sharp. “We need to work together if we want to stay ahead.”

I stared at him. “What makes you think I’d ever trust you?”

He didn’t flinch. “Because, Alex, we’re the best. And Marcus isn’t here to play. He’ll take everything. Unless we stop him first.”

I hesitated. Then— "How do you even know about the threat?"

Ethan reached into his jacket and pulled out a black envelope. Identical to mine and handed it to me.

I opened it slowly. Same message. Same ink.

My hands trembled, but I didn’t let him see it.

Tension welled up in me as I handed the envelope back to him.

"So what?" I said quietly. "You want to form an alliance?"

His eyes searched mine. “I want to win. And so do you.”

Then he smirked, voice dropping. “Besides, it’ll be fun. A game, Alex. A game of business... and other things.”

My heart skipped — once, hard.

What was Ethan playing at?

And why did part of me want to play, too?

Chapter 1 of 9

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