At 9:55 a.m. sharp, Adelina walked into the lobby of Apex Capital. The building, a gleaming tower of glass and steel in Hudson Yards, screamed money and power. The air itself seemed to hum with ruthless ambition.
The receptionist gave her a dismissive, once-over glance before calling upstairs. A moment later, an assistant with a face like a stone mask appeared and led her to a private elevator.
The ride to the 80th floor was silent and dizzyingly fast. Adelina focused on her breathing, trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart.
The assistant pushed open two massive, frosted-glass doors. "Mr. Evans will see you now."
Adelina stepped inside, her red heels a stark slash of color against the minimalist gray and black of the office. The room was enormous, at least two hundred square meters, with a floor-to-ceiling window offering a god-like view of Manhattan.
A man stood with his back to her, looking out the window. Landon Evans.
"Mr. Evans," she said, her voice cool and steady.
He turned. He had the same dark hair as Gage, but his features were sharper, more predatory. A cruel, knowing smile played on his lips.
Adelina started to walk forward, ready to present her business plan, when a movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention.
Her entire body went rigid. The air rushed from her lungs.
There, on a massive black Chesterfield sofa in the office's lounge area, sat Gage.
He was slouched in the chair, one long leg crossed over the other, the picture of casual arrogance. In his hand, he swirled a glass of amber liquid-Macallan, on the rocks. His eyes were fixed on her, not with surprise, but with the patient, predatory gaze of a wolf watching a lamb walk into a trap.
It was a setup. The whole thing was a setup.
Landon walked to his desk and sat down, feigning surprise. "Oh, didn't you know, Miss Alexander? Gage is a silent partner here at Apex. My apologies for the oversight."
Adelina gritted her teeth, forcing her gaze away from Gage and onto Landon. "Your corporate structure is your own business," she said, her voice tight. "I'm here to talk about Starlight."
Clink.
The sound of ice hitting glass echoed in the quiet room. Gage took a slow sip of his whiskey. "I'm just here to observe," he said, his voice a lazy, mocking drawl. "I'm curious to see what kind of a mess my runaway fiancée can make of her family's company."
The words "runaway fiancée" were a deliberate, public twist of the knife. Adelina's hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. She ignored him. She walked to Landon's desk and placed her meticulously prepared proposal in front of him.
She launched into her pitch, her voice professional, her arguments logical and well-researched. She spoke of market share, digital integration, and profit projections.
Landon didn't even look at the document. He just watched her, a smug, reptilian smile on his face.
Then Gage stood up. He moved with a silent, fluid grace, walking up behind her. His shadow fell over her, a cold, oppressive weight. She could smell the faint scent of whiskey and smoke on him.
He leaned in, his lips close to her ear, his voice a low, venomous whisper only the three of them could hear. "You think these pretty slides can convince men like him? You still don't understand the rules of the game you're playing."
Her spine went ramrod straight. She spun around, her eyes blazing. "Shut up."
Landon clapped his hands together once, a sharp, commanding sound that cut through the tension. The playful smirk was gone, replaced by a look of utter contempt.
"Miss Alexander," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Your ten minutes are up. And you've said absolutely nothing of value."
Adelina's heart sank. The humiliation was just beginning.
