The glass doors swung open again, letting in the rival firm's negotiating team. They moved in quietly but with an unmistakable air of practiced confidence — dark suits, sleek hairstyles, leather folders embossed with the company's silver insignia.
At their head walked a woman in her early thirties, sharp-featured and poised, her suit cut in the precise, minimalist style that spoke of both authority and taste. Her eyes, cold, almost brown golden and calculating, swept the table as she approached — cataloguing faces, measuring positions, tallying potential leverage.
For a heartbeat, her gaze snagged on Sophie.
The woman's eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly, surprise flashing before it hardened into something both confused and colder: faint disdain, like someone finding an unexpected stain on an otherwise pristine cloth.
Her eyes flicked from Sophie to Alex, searching for an explanation, but Alex didn't spare her so much as a glance. His focus remained on the open folder before him, a silver pen balanced loosely between his fingers.
The moment passed, but it left a thin crack in the room's polished calm. Sophie felt it settle heavily in her chest — the silent question hanging between the lawyers on both sides: Who is she, and why is she sitting there beside Mr. Wolf?
The woman placed her tablet carefully on the table and offered Alex a polite, professional nod.
"Mr. Wolf," she said. "Thank you for making time to meet."
Alex looked up at last. His expression remained flat, professional — but his gaze was cutting enough that Sophie could feel it even from the side.
"Let's see if it's worth the time," he replied, voice smooth as glass but edged like a blade.
Chairs shuffled as the other party took their seats. Pages rustled, laptop screens flickered awake. The air thickened, tension coiling like wire between the teams.
Yet Sophie couldn't stop noticing the occasional glance thrown her way by the rival firm's CEO Vanessa Holt. Each look was sharp, questioning and a mixture of confusement and anxiety — Why is she here? Why so close to him?
Alex ignored it entirely. He didn't introduce Sophie, didn't explain her presence, didn't so much as look toward her. But his earlier intervention — placing her in that seat — had already given her a silent gravity she hadn't earned.
Sophie kept her posture straight, forcing her breath to stay slow. Her palms were damp where they rested on the notebook, and she willed her gaze to stay on the table's black stone instead of lifting to meet those questioning eyes.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the head lawyer Michael Trent, leaned forward, his tone polite yet firm as he opened the meeting:
"Thank you, everyone, for the invitation. We'd like to revisit the points on valuation from our last conversation—"
The head lawyer from Wolf Industries, Michael Trent, began, his voice smooth and deliberate, "Let's start by revisiting the adjusted valuation you proposed. We've run our own numbers, and—"
Vanessa Holt, cut in, her tone like polished glass in the disMs. al of his words. "Mr. Trent, with all due respect, we've already provided a fair valuation. We find Wolf Industries' projections on Ridge Technologies for the next three quarters rely heavily on assumptions..."
Michael Trent didn't even blink. "We are not here to exchange point of views Ms. Holt," he simply replied "We are here at your behest - you called us here to reopen the negotiations, what's your demand?"
Vanessa offered a practiced, tight-lipped smile before she started listing numbers along with statistics.
Sophie sat in silence, the tension in her chest as tight as a drawn bowstring, her awareness of Alex's presence beside her impossible to ignore — even as he gave no sign she existed at all.
Micheal Trent slid a slim folder across the table towards Ms. Holt's head lawyer beside her - a clear refusal of the counter offer proposed. "This is Wolf Industries final offer.."
Papers whispered against the table as Vanessa snatched them — scanning the papers, taking her time Vanessa suddenly turned her attention slowly toward Sophie. Her gaze was pointed, curious, and edged,
"And who," Vanessa asked lightly, each syllable a precision strike, "do we have here? A new financial analyst, perhaps?"
The way she said perhaps curled with faint disdain.
Sophie froze because of the sudden interest in her direction. She returned the look Vanessa gave her - and saw a faint notion of fear mixed with slight panic in Vanessa's expression, but it was gone within milliseconds Vanessa's expression turning utterly cold again. A thought hit Sophie; Why is she afraid of me?
Alex didn't even turn. His voice, low and cold, cut through the question like a scalpel. "She's here because I want her here."
The room became silent to that sentence. Vanessa's dark eyes narrowed only a breath, but enough. Her perfectly lined mouth stiffened at the corners, the polite mask slipping just enough to reveal something sharper beneath.
"Of course," she replied, the words dipped in velvet but hard beneath. "I simply wondered."
Sophie felt heat prickling under her collar. Her gaze dropped to the table, pretending to read the notes she had written, her heart hammering at Alex's refusal to offer even a single word of explanation — not a title, not a role. Just authority, bare and absolute.
Vanessa finally turned back to Michael Trent. "Shall we continue?"
And just like that, the negotiations began. Sharp words, careful smiles, and clipped sentences filled the room — power balanced on every breath.
"We can concede on the timeline if you adjust the equity split."
"That would undercut the entire valuation."
"You're overvaluing speculative synergy."
"And you're undervaluing the brand leverage we bring."
While they sparred, Vanessa's attention kept flicking to Sophie — subtle, appraising and yet filled with unease, her dark gaze calculating, each glance asking a question she didn't voice.
Why is she sitting so close to Wolf? What is she?
Sophie sat rigid, fighting to keep her posture calm. Each glance from Vanessa felt like a needle under the skin, and yet Alex offered nothing — no acknowledgment of Sophie's presence, no reassurance, no explanation.
And yet, in that silence, something unspoken pressed itself into the room:
She was there because he'd chosen it. And that choice alone was enough — even if no one else understood why.
Vanessa's voice sliced through the air again, her voice slightly restrained. "You can't expect us to accept your aggressive expansion while assuming disproportionate risk."
Alex finally spoke, voice low, calm, and colder than steel. "Decide what matters more to you, Vanessa: speed or control. You won't get both."
For a heartbeat, Vanessa's gaze snapped from Alex to Sophie and back again, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if recalculating something she hadn't planned for.
The tension hummed like a live wire — the meeting's polished surface barely hiding the clash beneath. And while Vanessa's words never named her suspicion, every look at Sophie made it painfully clear:
Who are you, and why did he bring you here?
Vanessa adjusted the stack of documents before her, her manicured fingers tapping a deliberate rhythm on the glossy cover to hide a wellhidden nervousness. "Speed or control," she echoed softly, as though tasting the words. Then she let the pause stretch just long enough to signal she wouldn't be bullied — not even by Alexander Wolf.
Her gaze flickered, almost reflexively, back to Sophie — sharp, assessing, trying to decipher the reason behind Alex's blunt refusal to identify her. But Alex, stone-faced, remained silent, as though Sophie's presence required neither explanation nor apology.
Michael Trent leaned forward, voice controlled. "Our position remains clear: the timeline we proposed aligns with the market window. Delay too long, and we risk losing momentum entirely."
Vanessa's expression didn't change, but her eyes hardened. "And our position remains that you're asking for an unrealistic closing window, paired with an equity split that hands Wolf Industries disproportionate upside."
She turned a page crisply, letting the sound punctuate her words. "What does Alex's new guest to the team think?"
The way she lingered on the word guest was like pressing salt into a wound. Sophie felt the question as a direct hit to her presence, it was a low burn under her skin, but kept her eyes trained on the papers in front of her, pretending to read.
Alex shifted slightly in his seat. The faint scrape of leather was the only sound he offered, his gaze remaining fixed on Vanessa. His silence wasn't uncertainty; it was deliberate, heavy — a statement of power. "Her opinion is of no value to you, Vanessa." A clear line. A warning.
Sophie didn't move. Didn't blink. Sat utterly still looking down at her notebook.
Michael Trent pushed on, redirecting the attention. "If we revisit the cap on contingency payments, I believe we could accommodate a longer window without risking the valuation."
Vanessa raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "We've already discussed the cap. Lowering it further leaves us open to volatility driven by Wolf Industries' own operational risks — which, I might remind you, are well documented."
Again, her eyes cut across the table to Sophie — brief, but unmistakable.
The implication hung unspoken: What does she know of volatility? Why is she even here?
Alex's jaw flexed once, the only sign of irritation. Then he spoke, voice even colder than before. "Then offer a counter, Vanessa. You know where our limits stand. Don't waste the table's time."
For a moment, something like a crack appeared in Vanessa's composure — fear for a brief moment, but also recognition of the edge in his tone. She recovered swiftly, lips tightening into that careful, professional smile.
"Very well," she said. "We propose a modest extension on the timeline — thirty days — but in exchange, Wolf Industries absorbs half of any overrun costs incurred beyond Q3."
Michael Trent frowned. "Half is untenable. At most, twenty-five percent."
"And that," Vanessa replied, her voice silk over steel, "would make the extension worthless to us."
The exchange moved faster now, words sharper, calculations crossing the table like sparks. Sophie tracked them as best she could, the numbers and jargon blurring into a rhythm that almost made sense — but her pulse kept stumbling each time Vanessa's gaze caught hers.
Sophie wasn't just a distraction; she was an anomaly, and in a room where every detail was measured, anomalies that drew blood.
Then, almost absently, Vanessa spoke again, her eyes never leaving Alex. "And your… guest? Does she have an opinion on the cost overruns your side is so eager to offload?"
The words hovered, sharp as glass.
Alex's eyes, so dark and steady, finally moved — not to Sophie, but to Vanessa, meeting her stare head-on. "Vanessa Holt…" the use of name, the tone, a clear warning again and one that said; If you pursue this again there will be consequences. Alex continued "She's not here to speak," he said flatly. "She's here to listen. If that bothers you, you're free to focus on the numbers."
Vanessa's lips twitched, as if suppressing something between slight panic and annoyance. Sophie's mind swirled with unspoken questions. Why is she afraid? What is she hiding or trying to hide?
"Of course," Vanessa murmured. "Shall we proceed?"
And so they did: the table a battlefield paved with polite words and sharpened figures, Sophie silent in the storm, her presence both invisible and glaringly visible — a silent question that refused to leave the room, and which Alex, with every measured breath, refused to answer.
The air in the room was taut as wire, every word measured, every glance calculated. After what felt like an eternity of barbed exchanges, the tension finally began to ease — not with a grand concession, but a cautious compromise.
Vanessa nodded slowly, folding her hands on the table. "Thirty days extension with Wolf Industries absorbing half the overrun costs. We have a deal, on those terms."
Michael Trent tapped a few keys on his tablet, sending a draft agreement to the group. Alex's jaw clenched, but after a long pause, he gave a curt nod. "Fine. We'll move forward."
Without a word, Alex rose from his chair. His eyes briefly flicked to Sophie — unreadable, detached — before he turned on his heel and strode out of the room. There was no recognition, no acknowledgment — only the cold efficiency of a man focused on the next task.
The silence that followed was heavy. Vanessa's sharp gaze settled fully on Sophie.
"So," Vanessa began, her tone deceptively casual but laced with ice, "you've been trailing Mr. Wolf all morning. Why don't you explain exactly who you are… and what your role is in all this?"
Sophie's heart hammered in her chest, but she squared her shoulders and met Vanessa's piercing gaze without flinching. "I'm here for an interview," she said clearly. "For a position within Wolf Industries."
Vanessa's brow lifted in surprise along with skepticism plain in her expression. "An interview," she echoed slowly, as if tasting the words. "At a high-stakes meeting like this?" Her eyes scanned Sophie from head to toe, disbelief mingling with thinly veiled disdain. "Do you even understand the gravity of what's happening here? This isn't some corporate social club."
Sophie swallowed, fighting the sudden surge of doubt, but she refused to let it show. "I know it's challenging," she admitted quietly, "but I'm here to prove that I can handle it."
Vanessa's lips curved in a slow, almost predatory smile. "You have courage, I'll grant you that." She folded her arms, her posture radiating authority and yet there again was the small notion of fear lingering in her expression. "But courage alone won't carry you through the corridors of power." Vanessa paused for a second as if deciding her next words. "Mr. Wolf doesn't just bring anyone into these rooms," Vanessa added with a clear underlying tone in her voice. "There are stakes here, stakes you might not yet grasp."
Sophie held her ground, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her stomach. "I'm not here to be a distraction. I want to learn...to grow."
Vanessa's eyes glinted with a mixture of challenge and something else — maybe clear annoyance, though buried deep beneath layers of corporate hardness. "We'll see if this world is for you, Ms. Carter."
The door clicked softly behind Alex's retreating figure, sealing Sophie inside the room with Vanessa's sharp scrutiny. The weight of unspoken trials pressed in, and Sophie felt the first true test of her resolve.
She took a slow breath, reminding herself that this was just the beginning — that beneath the cold walls and sharper words lay the path she was determined to carve.
Sophie stood rooted for a moment after Alex's departure, the faint echo of his footsteps still vibrating through the polished floor. The room seemed suddenly colder, the air thicker. Vanessa's eyes never left her, a silent challenge lingering between them like an unspoken bet.
Gathering herself, Sophie folded her hands loosely in front of her, trying to project calm even as her pulse hammered against her ribs. Every instinct screamed that this was more than just a simple interview—it was a trial by fire.
Vanessa stepped closer, her tone lowering just enough to cut deeper. "This is a game of chess, Sophie. You move one wrong piece, and you lose the entire board." That was a clear threat - one that was unmistakenly raw.
Sophie swallowed, the weight of those words sinking in. "I'm not here to play games," she said, voice firmer than she expected. "I'm here because I believe I can be part of something bigger. Because I want to earn my place."
Vanessa's lip twitched in something almost resembling a smile, but it didn't reach her cold and yet worried eyes. "Idealism is charming. But in this world, it's results that matter. You understand that, don't you?"
Before Sophie could answer, Michael Trent returned, carrying a tablet with the finalized agreement. He gave Vanessa a subtle nod, and she nodded back—then turned her full attention back to the room at large. Sophie hadn't noticed that the lawyers still lingered inside the room and had heard everything. Her heart began to beat faster.
"Very well," Vanessa said, voice once again neutral but edged with unmistakable command taking the papers from Mr. Trent. "We'll review the details tomorrow." Vanessa gave Sophie the elevator look, before she continued, "For now, I suggest you take a moment to collect yourself, Ms. Carter and a small piece of advice - If you are to survive in this world…that," Vanessa pointed to Sophie's skirt with the small grease on the hem, "is how one makes a terrible impression."
Sophie glanced down at herself and the clothes she had chosen for today's interview. She had been thrown into a world where power ruled, where every word and glance carried weight. But beneath that pressure, a stubborn ember of determination glowed. She would prove she belonged here.