Two days passed since the meeting.Adrian hadn't signed the contract.But he hadn't refused it either — which, to someone like Elena Ward, was almost as good as a yes.
The headlines had begun to shift again.Rumors that the Vance heir was planning an alliance with the Ward Group spread through the city's business circles like perfume — subtle but everywhere. Investors who once hesitated to even mention his name now called, suddenly eager to talk.
Adrian ignored them all.
His phone buzzed, again and again. He left it face down on the table.
He was in his study, staring at a projection of the decrypted fragments from the file labeled WARD_CORP_BRANCH-4. Half the data was still corrupted, but he'd already seen enough to know that his father's death hadn't been random.
Someone had ordered it.Someone with the kind of resources that erased mistakes.
And the Wards had been involved.
A notification blinked in the corner of his monitor.Incoming call: Elena Ward.
He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then accepted. Her voice came through smooth, practiced, and slightly amused.
"You've been avoiding me, Mr. Vance. I'm starting to think you're shy."
"Just busy," he said evenly. "Some of us still work for what we have."
"Ouch," she laughed softly. "If that was a jab, it was well-placed."
"What do you want, Miss Ward?"
"Lunch. Tomorrow. My office."
He frowned. "I thought we'd already discussed business."
"We did," she said. "Now I'd like to discuss trust."
The line went dead before he could answer.
[The Next Day]
Ward Corporation's headquarters towered above the skyline like a polished blade — all glass and steel, sharp lines and colder hearts.
Adrian walked through the lobby under the watchful eyes of executives and assistants. His name still carried enough weight to draw whispers.
When he reached the top floor, Elena's assistant greeted him."Miss Ward is waiting," she said, gesturing toward an office framed by floor-to-ceiling windows.
Inside, the sunlight reflected off a dozen framed photos — her with politicians, philanthropists, and CEOs. Each one was a silent reminder that power was her native language.
Elena stood near the window, holding a glass of water, looking out at the city below.
"Funny thing about being on top," she said without turning. "It's hard to tell if you're climbing… or if you've just run out of ground."
"Depends on what you built it with," Adrian replied.
She smiled faintly, finally turning to him."Still philosophical, I see. I like that."
They sat across from each other.A silent tension hung between them — not hostility, not attraction exactly, but the awareness that every word was part of a negotiation neither had defined yet.
She pushed a folder toward him.Inside were project files — infrastructure developments, financial forecasts, and a new proposal. This one was different: cleaner, smaller, almost… personal.
"This one's real," she said. "No traps, no fine print. Consider it a peace offering."
He scanned the first few pages. She was right — it was solid. Profitable for both sides.
So why did it feel wrong?
He set it down. "You're offering me easy money, Miss Ward. That's not your style."
Her eyes flickered — a small, involuntary reaction. "Maybe I'm learning generosity."
"Or maybe," he said quietly, "you're testing how far I'll bend."
The air between them sharpened.
For a moment, neither spoke. Then, Elena leaned back, studying him with a kind of cool fascination."You really don't trust anyone, do you?"
"I learned that trusting the wrong person can kill you."
Something unreadable crossed her face — guilt, maybe, or something that looked like it. She didn't answer right away.
A silence stretched between them before she finally said,
"You're not wrong, Adrian. But if you live your life holding everyone at a distance, you'll end up just as dead — just slower."
She stood and walked toward the window again. Her reflection overlapped with his in the glass — two figures blurred by light and shadow.
"You want to rebuild your legacy," she said softly. "I can help you do that. But you'll have to let me in."
Adrian didn't reply immediately. He could feel the tug in her words — subtle, almost gentle. A chain made of silk rather than steel. The kind people didn't notice until it was too late.
He rose slowly, closing the folder."I'll consider your proposal."
She turned to face him, her gaze steady. "And if I told you I already knew your answer?"
He smiled faintly. "Then I'd say you don't know me as well as you think."
When he left the office, the sunlight had dimmed behind gathering clouds. The city stretched beneath him — alive, ruthless, waiting.
In the elevator, Adrian looked down at the folder in his hand. On the back, in small print, was a signature block — one he hadn't noticed before.
Project overseer: Raymond Vance (deceased)
His breath caught for half a second.She knew. She had to.
Because if she didn't, this was one coincidence too many.
Back in her office, Elena watched him go, her reflection framed against the skyline.Her assistant entered quietly. "Should I prepare a follow-up call?"
Elena didn't answer.Her fingers traced the rim of her glass absentmindedly.
"He's not like the others," she murmured. "He doesn't chase power. He measures it."
Her assistant hesitated. "Should we continue the plan?"
Elena looked out the window again, voice calm.
"Of course. But don't push him too hard. I want to see what he does when he thinks he's free."