At five in the next morning, Aurora silenced her alarm and slipped out of bed, the faint predawn glow just beginning to brush the horizon. She laced up her running shoes and jogged along the quiet riverside.
By the time she returned home, the city was waking. After a quick shower, she dressed neatly and headed to the TV station, ready to anchor the eight o'clock financial segment.
When the broadcast wrapped, she made her way back to her desk—only to nearly collide with Lana.
Lana stood there holding a lavish bouquet of crimson roses, their fragrance filling the corridor.
"Morning, Aurora," Lana said brightly.
Aurora offered a polite nod, her eyes flicking to the flowers. "They're lovely."
Unbothered by the curious glances around them, Lana tilted her chin and smiled with smugness. "Leland sent them."
A ripple of scorn swept through their colleagues—meaningful smirks, exchanged looks. After meeting just last night, Lana and Leland were already making quite the statement this morning. Her eagerness to flaunt her new backer drew only cool, dismissive glances from the colleagues. To them, her public bragging looked foolish—almost reckless. Didn't she worry about tripping over her own smugness later?
Aurora merely offered a polite smile, uninterested in joining the spectacle. "That's nice," she responded lightly.
Lana tilted her chin, her voice crisp and edged with provocation. "Oh, come on, Aurora. My little bouquet can't compare to your reward." Her tone dripped with mock admiration as she raised her voice for everyone to hear. "You charmed Mr. Rockefeller last night, and he immediately sealed a two-year sponsorship contract for you."
She leaned in close, covering her mouth with one hand while deliberately speaking loud enough for the office to catch every word. "Mr. Rockefeller must be quite pleased with your performance last night, right?"
A faint crease deepened between Aurora's brows. "That's nonsense."
Lana's eyes glinted with amusement. "Oh, drop the act. Mr. Saunders confirmed the contract first thing this morning—the sponsor's none other than Mr. Rockefeller."
Aurora froze, the news sinking in before she could form a response. Then, Marc's voice rang out across the office. "Aurora, get ready—we're meeting Mr. Rockefeller in ten minutes."
Aurora paused, her expression darkening.
Lana crossed her arms with a smug little smirk. "Well?"
...
Aurora's head still felt clouded as she slid into Marc's car, the cityscape blurring past on their way to the tallest tower downtown.
Marc, cheerful as ever, strode up to the reception desk and announced with practiced ease, "We have an appointment with Mr. Rockefeller."
Aurora furrowed her brows slightly. Why would she and Marc be meeting Grayson here? Wasn't Grayson supposed to be in the Prosecutor's Office?
While he handled the formalities, Aurora drifted a few steps back, her gaze lifting to the gleaming AF Global Tech logo mounted high on the wall. The bold letters—AF—struck her like a spark from the past.
Those same initials had once been scribbled in pencil across a library notebook during her junior year, when she and Grayson used to whisper plans between stacks of textbooks—dreaming of launching a tech start-up together the moment they scraped together enough capital.
But three months later, Grayson had accepted a coveted position at the Odonrith Prosecutor's Office—and ended their relationship without hesitation.
She hadn't begged him to stay. She hadn't even let herself cry. Faced with the collapse of her dreams and the sting of betrayal, she had chosen quiet acceptance over despair.
Just then, the receptionist smiled at Marc and Aurora and said, "Our CEO is ready to meet you. His assistant will lead you to his office."
Walking into Grayson's office behind his assistant, Aurora carried that same composed calm with her.
By the window, Grayson stood mid-conversation on the phone, his voice low and fluent in a foreign tongue—the very language of the country where Aurora had once studied abroad.
Settling onto a sleek black leather sofa, Aurora took in her surroundings. The décor was understated yet refined—clean lines, cool hues, every detail reflecting Grayson's restrained sophistication.
Grayson wore a tailored dark gray suit, the fine wool catching the light as he moved, exuding effortless authority. When his gaze finally found Aurora, he paused for a heartbeat before ending the call.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," he remarked smoothly, crossing the room to take a seat opposite Marc and Aurora, his composure as impeccable as ever.
Marc's grin stretched wide. "No worries, Mr. Rockefeller—we're more than happy to wait." A sponsorship worth fifty million was enough to justify waiting all day if needed.
Grayson casually rolled up his sleeves, his movements unhurried as he reached for the coffee pot. "Still taking it with milk, no sugar?" he inquired, his voice carrying a quiet, unforced ease.
Aurora didn't answer. Her gaze lingered on the carton of milk he had already picked up, the small, familiar gesture stirring something deep inside her. Hadn't he already decided for her?
Marc, oblivious to the charged silence, jumped in eagerly. "Anything's fine, really. We're not picky."
The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint grassy scent of Grayson's cologne, a fragrance uniquely his.
The moment wrapped around Aurora like a memory—familiar, intoxicating. That subtle scent had once been her weakness, the quiet addiction she could never quite escape.
Grayson's long fingers offered Aurora the coffee with deliberate calm. Aurora accepted it with a polite nod, murmured a soft "thank you," and set the cup down untouched.
The small courtesy faded as they turned to business.
Before any contract could be signed, Grayson presented his stipulation. "My request is simple. I want your station to air reports during prime time for the next three nights, covering the recent Topspeed Lightning electric vehicle fire cases. Emphasize that the cause lies in underdeveloped technology—preferably with a compiled segment highlighting multiple incidents."
His voice was even, though his tone carried a glacial firmness.
Aurora, who had been closely following the latest in artificial intelligence and clean-tech, recognized Topspeed Lightning as one of the industry's frontrunners. Meeting his gaze through the faint gleam of his gold-rimmed glasses, she replied carefully, "Mr. Rockefeller, there's still no official verdict on whether those fires stem from immature technology. If our station airs such a claim now, it might be seen as manipulating public perception."
Grayson's left hand draped lazily over the armrest as his gaze locked on hers. "A two-year sponsorship in exchange for highlighting a few incidents—you can weigh which holds more weight."
Aurora's breath caught. She'd known AF Global Tech's launch was just three days away, but discovering Grayson was the CEO left her stunned. He hadn't changed—still the master strategist, calculating every move.
Her eyes chilled as she straightened in her seat. "Mr. Rockefeller, the financial channel isn't a pawn for you to build your empire on."
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Grayson's mouth. "So, Miss Flynn, is that a refusal?"
