The boardroom of Hubbard Enterprises was a cavern of glass and steel. Ace sat at the head of the long mahogany table, opposite his father.
Jaiden sat to the side, fuming. His knuckles were white as he gripped his tablet.
Mr. Sterling, the family's chief legal counsel, adjusted his glasses and began reading from a thick document.
"According to the founding trust, upon the return of the first-born son, fifteen percent of the Hubbard voting shares are to be transferred immediately from the holding trust to the heir."
Jaiden stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "This is insane! He's been a laborer for five years! He'll tank the stock!"
Ace leaned back in his leather chair. He looked bored. "The stock is already down two percent because of your Hamptons failure, Jaiden. I'm the recovery plan."
Harve banged his fist on the table. "Sit down, Jaiden. The contract is ironclad."
Ace watched the transfer on his screen. A loading bar filled up.
Transfer Complete.
Billions of dollars in voting power shifted to his name. He felt nothing.
"I want a seat on the board of the Foley acquisition team," Ace added.
Harve nodded. "Agreed. You meet Calista tonight at the Metropolitan Gala."
Meanwhile, in Chicago, Brittni Ramirez sat in her office. The view of the skyline usually calmed her, but today it felt like a cage.
Her CFO, Mark, walked in without knocking. He looked pale.
"Brittni, our lead investor just pulled out. They sent the letter ten minutes ago."
"What?" Brittni stood up. "Why? The IPO is next week!"
"They said we're 'too high risk' now. But Brittni... the firm that bought them out this morning... it's a subsidiary of Hubbard Holdings."
Brittni's heart stopped.
Hubbard.
She remembered Ace's last name. He had told her once, early on. "Ace Hubbard." She had thought it was common. Like Smith or Jones.
She sat down slowly. She opened Google. Her fingers trembled as she typed.
Hubbard Dynasty Family Tree.
A blurry photo from five years ago appeared. It was a young Ace, standing next to Harve Hubbard at a charity event. He was wearing a tuxedo.
"Oh my god," she whispered, the words catching in her throat as the room began to spin. The screen swam before her eyes. It wasn't just a name. It was the name. The man whose calloused hands she'd secretly disdained, the man she'd pitied for his simple life, was the heir to an empire that could buy her entire company with the interest from a checking account. The humiliation was a physical blow, knocking the air from her lungs. She had thrown away a king for a court jester.
Jefferson walked in, oblivious to the atmosphere. "Babe, I found a great deal on a Porsche for you! Since the watch is... you know."
Brittni turned on him. Her eyes were wild, desperate.
"Get out, Jefferson! Get out of my office!"
"Whoa, what's wrong?"
"You're what's wrong! You're a parasite!"
She grabbed the Rolex box from her desk and threw it at his head. It hit him on the shoulder.
"Take your watch and go! We're done!"
Back in New York, Ace stood in his dressing room. A tailor was adjusting the hem of his tuxedo trousers.
Sen entered. "The building has been secured, sir. Mr. Medina has been served his eviction. The locks are being changed as we speak."
"And the investor pull-out for the Ramirez girl?"
"Complete. She is currently in a state of financial collapse."
Ace looked at himself in the mirror. Black tie. Cold eyes.
"Good," Ace said. "Now let's go meet the Ice Queen."
