"Do you ever get tired of winning headlines?"
Jake's voice cut through the quiet hum of the office as he set a fresh cup of coffee beside Samantha's keyboard.
Samantha didn't look up immediately. She sat behind her glass-top desk, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, her eyes scanning the article glowing on her monitor. The morning sun poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Elevate's headquarters, painting her in golden light.
On the screen, bold letters danced across a business column:
"ELEVATE STRATEGIC GROUP VS CARTER GROUP: TWO DYNASTIES, ONE CITY, ONE THRONE."
Her lips curved faintly. "Tired? Not exactly. But I do wish they'd spell my name right when they call me ruthless."
Jake chuckled, leaning over her shoulder to read. "They're calling you the ice queen of corporate warfare. That's new."
"Journalists love metaphors," Samantha murmured, taking a sip of her coffee. "But they're not entirely wrong."
Jake pulled up a chair beside her. "Still, calling Elevate and Carter Group rival dynasties makes it sound like we're at war."
"We are," she replied, her tone even. "They just don't know the reason yet."
He studied her for a moment. "You really plan to take them apart piece by piece, don't you?"
Samantha finally looked at him — those eyes that could command a boardroom and silence an entire crowd. "You don't destroy a fortress by shouting at the gate, Jake. You walk through the front door… with a smile."
---
Across the office, Lynn walked in, carrying a neatly sealed envelope. She paused at the door, waiting for permission before stepping closer.
"Ms. Bradley," she said carefully, "this was delivered by hand from the Carter Foundation."
Samantha took the envelope, turning it in her fingers. The seal bore the Carter family crest — familiar, ornate, and pretentious. "Interesting," she said softly. "They still send embossed stationery."
Jake frowned. "You think it's from Nick?"
Samantha shook her head, sliding a letter opener across the edge. "No. Naomi Carter doesn't let her son handle social invitations. She does the controlling herself."
The letter unfolded with crisp precision. Samantha read silently for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, that small, knowing smile appeared.
"It's a charity gala," she said. "For children's hospitals. Hosted by Naomi herself."
Jake exhaled through his nose. "So, an event full of the city's elite, flashing diamonds and pretending they care."
Samantha nodded. "Exactly. And conveniently public. Which makes it perfect."
Lynn hesitated. "Should I… decline the invitation?"
Samantha glanced up at her, her tone thoughtful but firm. "No. Tell them Elevate will be represented — by me."
Jake's brow furrowed. "You're serious? Walking into their territory again?"
Samantha's gaze drifted back to the window, to the skyline that stretched endlessly beyond the glass. "Let them think they're still the hosts. I'll let them pour the champagne and smile for the cameras. But by the end of the night, everyone in that room will know who truly holds the power."
Her reflection in the glass was calm, radiant, dangerous.
---
Later that morning, the office buzzed with quiet energy. Assistants hurried between conference rooms; phones rang, deals moved, papers signed. Elevate was a machine, and Samantha was its pulse.
Jake followed her into the meeting room, where digital projections displayed quarterly reports. He waited until the last assistant left before speaking again.
"You're planning something with this 'charity partnership' idea, aren't you?"
Samantha picked up a stylus, circling a name on the projection — Carter Group Holdings. "The press loves to talk about rivalry," she said, "but imagine if I offered them a collaboration instead."
Jake blinked. "A partnership? That's… unexpected."
"That's why it'll work," she replied. "Carter Group is bleeding contracts since we acquired several of their logistics clients. They need new partnerships to survive — even if it means swallowing pride."
Jake folded his arms. "So, you offer them a lifeline."
She turned to him, her expression razor-sharp. "A lifeline made of silk, Jake. Soft to the touch, but impossible to escape once it tightens."
He grinned faintly despite himself. "Remind me never to play chess with you."
"You already do," she said dryly. "And you keep losing."
---
Hours later, as the city dipped toward evening, Samantha sat alone in her office. The lights of skyscrapers glittered like fallen stars below. The open article still sat on her desk — that headline about rival empires.
She reached for her pen and, almost absently, underlined the phrase Rival Dynasties.
Her thoughts drifted. Nick's face from that stormy night flashed before her — the confusion in his eyes, the flicker of guilt. Kate's trembling hands. Sophia's soft, innocent voice whispering, "Ally."
She closed her eyes for a moment, steadying her breath. The past had a cruel way of echoing, even when you built walls high enough to shut it out.
Jake's reflection appeared in the glass behind her. "You didn't go home last night either," he said quietly.
"I wasn't tired."
"You were restless," he corrected gently.
Samantha didn't turn. "Restless isn't weakness, Jake. It's fuel."
He walked closer, stopping a few feet away. "You don't have to do this alone, you know."
Her lips curved faintly. "I'm not alone. I have you. And Elevate. And a plan."
"That's not what I meant."
She finally turned then, her gaze softening slightly. "You worry too much."
"I'm not worried," he said, his voice lower now. "I just don't want to watch you burn yourself for revenge."
For a moment, neither spoke. The city hummed beneath them; lights blinked in silence.
Samantha set down her pen. "You think this is still about revenge," she said slowly. "But it's not. It's about balance. About taking back what they stole."
Jake studied her face — the steadiness, the quiet ache behind her control. "Just promise me something," he said.
"What?"
"That when you walk into that gala, you'll remember you're not the same woman who left their house seven years ago."
Samantha's voice was calm, but her eyes glinted. "Don't worry, Jake. I don't bleed anymore."
He didn't smile this time. "That's what scares me."
---
When Jake finally left, the office fell silent again. Lynn stepped in a few minutes later, setting a folder on the desk. "The Carter gala invitation has been confirmed. They've reserved a special table for Elevate."
Samantha nodded. "Good. Send the RSVP."
Lynn hesitated at the door. "Are you sure about this, ma'am? It's… personal."
Samantha looked up from the city lights. "Everything is personal, Lynn. That's what makes it powerful."
---
As the night deepened, Samantha walked out onto the balcony. The wind brushed against her hair, carrying the faint scent of rain from the river. She leaned on the railing, looking down at the city she'd conquered once and would conquer again.
She thought of Naomi's bright smile, of the flashbulbs that would go off when she walked into that ballroom, of the moment Nick Carter would see her standing there — alive, untouchable, reborn.
A slow, knowing smile touched her lips.
"They wanted a dynasty war," she murmured to herself. "I'll give them one."
Inside, her phone buzzed with a message from Jake.
Jake: "The board approved the proposal draft. I'll have it ready by morning. Try to sleep tonight."
Samantha typed back a single line:
Samantha: "Sleep is for the innocent." She set her phone down, staring at her reflection in the glass.