The chandeliers dripped crystal. The air, money.
Ariella Vale stepped into the grand ballroom of The Monarch Hotel, wearing a dress as sharp as her tongue — black silk, slit high, no jewelry but a single diamond at her throat. Let them look. Let them whisper.
She wasn't here to impress anyone.
She was here because her father demanded it.
"Smile, darling," her mother hissed under her breath as they posed for photos. "You're a Vale. Not a street girl."
Ariella didn't smile. She didn't need to.
Every elite family in the city was there — the Kings, the Adeles, the Grants, the Deverauxs. Generational wealth. Private empires. Everyone with a throne to protect.
And sitting at the far end of the dinner table, smirking like he already owned the night:
Jeremiah King.
Of course he wore black. Of course he didn't stand to greet her.
Their eyes met for half a second.
She looked away first. Damn him.
---
The first two courses passed in uncomfortable silence. Champagne flowed. Old men talked politics. Women gossiped in veiled daggers.
Then, like a grenade tossed into a powder room, Mr. Vale stood. Glass raised.
"I have an announcement."
The room quieted. Forks paused midair. Even Jeremiah's father straightened in his chair.
Mr. Vale smiled — not warmly. Strategically.
"Tonight," he said, "the Vale and King empires officially announce a merger."
Ariella's hand froze on her wine glass.
No.
No.
Her mother reached under the table and gently squeezed her wrist.
But Ariella stood. "Excuse me?"
All eyes snapped to her. Her voice rang sharp, louder than she intended.
"I wasn't told about this—"
"Sit down, Ariella."
Her father didn't even look at her.
Just like that, every ounce of power she thought she had?
Gone.
"This decision," he continued, "will ensure the legacy of both families. Our companies will become one. A powerhouse. Unmatched."
And then — to twist the knife — he added:
"Effective immediately, Ariella will co-lead the new merged entity alongside Jeremiah King."
She felt every cell in her body scream.
Jeremiah stood slowly. Calmly. Smiled like a wolf.
"I look forward to working with you," he said to her, voice low enough only she could hear, "...partner."
Ariella didn't blink. Didn't flinch.
But she whispered back, her voice like ice:
> "Touch my company, and I'll bury yours."
He smiled wider.
> "Then I'll see you in the dirt, sweetheart."