Chantel slammed the door of her room so hard the hinges groaned. Her chest heaved, hot tears streaking her face. She sank onto her bed, pressing her hands to her face, trembling. She had lost humiliated herself, humiliated her family. But then she saw it , the truth behind the headlines, the staggering collapse of her father's company, the unstoppable force that was Adrian De Vere.
A shiver ran down her spine, but it wasn't fear. It was something darker, more consuming. His power, his influence, the way he had controlled everything from the shadows… it called to her. And she wanted it. Not just to watch from afar. She wanted to own a place in it, to feel the pulse of that power beneath her fingertips.
Rage and obsession mingled, twisting into a dangerous energy. She kicked over her chair, sending it crashing into the desk. Papers, pens, even a small vase flew across the room, shattering against the walls.
A knock at the door startled her. "Miss Chantel? Are you—"
"Get out!" she screamed, voice sharp, raw. "I said get out!"
"But Miss…You'll ruin your feet if you step on the shards. "The servant hesitated, worried.
Chantel eyes narrowed, lips curling " Then step on them yourself! Pick them up from your own feet! Do it!"
The servant froze, staring at the glittering mess. The shards were tiny, deadly, but her voice trembled as she protested, "Miss… it—"
Chantel's fury snapped, and she shoved a piece toward her. "Do it! Or you'll regret slowing me down! Now!"
With a hiss of pain, the maid stepped on the glass. She let out a muffled yelp. Chantel's hand lashed out, slapping her sharply across the cheek. "Silence! You moan, and everyone thinks you matter! Do you hear me? You don't!"
The servant flinched, clutching her cheek, whispering a shaky apology. "I—I'm sorry, Miss Chantel."
Chantel's chest heaved, eyes wild, lips curved in a dangerous smile. "Good. Now clean it up and don't even leave a single filthy blood drop of yours in my room. Don't tell a soul about this. Ever. Understand?"
The maid nodded frantically, cleaning the room and backing away, leaving Chantel alone. The room was a mess glass glittering across the floor, papers torn, a chair on its side but Chantel didn't care. She paced, fists clenched, a low laugh escaping her throat.
His name whispered on her lips: Adrian De Vere. Every detail she'd learned today the collapse of her father's empire, his calm command, the invisible threads of power he controlled drew her in. It was intoxicating. Dangerous. Irresistible.
She pressed her hand against the vanity, staring at her reflection. Her eyes burned, pupils wide, lips parted. "This… this is power. He has it. And I… I will have it too. Even if I have to destroy everything, everyone… I will be in his orbit. And I will not be ignored."
She gritted her teeth, imagining the steps she would take. Subtle manipulations, carefully timed encounters, whispers, charm… everything calculated. She would be unavoidable. She would make herself… necessary.
Her phone buzzed. Marissa. A small, sharp smile curved her lips. She wasn't ready to tell anyone yet not even Marissa how far she would go. But plans were already forming, webs stretching outward, each thread a chance to touch Adrian's world.
Chantel sank back onto her bed, fingers tapping against the sheets, a low hum of excitement vibrating through her. Tears had vanished. Only fire remained, obsession that would not be quenched. She would rise from humiliation, sharpened, dangerous, and utterly relentless. Adrian De Vere would notice her. Oh, he would. And when he did… she would be unstoppable.