The sleek, modern screen in Robert Hayes's office seemed to
burn with the image of his niece. His assistant, a man who had been at his side
for decades and knew all the family's dirty little secrets, let out a soft,
involuntary gasp.
"The resemblance… it's uncanny. She's the very image of Mrs.
Evelyn Hayes."
A slow, possessive smile curved Robert's lips. Evelyn—his
elder brother Conrad's wife—had always been the one who got away, a ghost that
haunted his darkest desires. Seeing her face reflected in Elara, so confident
and untouchable, sent a familiar, obsessive thrill through him.
His voice was a low, impatient growl. "I don't need poetry.
I need facts. You have half a day. By tonight, I want to know everything about
this… Aeterna Ventures."
"Understood, sir." The assistant bowed his head slightly,
but his expression remained troubled. "There is another matter, Mr. Hayes. The
Thorne Group project is ready to break ground, but our capital is still…
inaccessible."
Robert's smile vanished, replaced by a stormy scowl.
The hole in the Hayes fortune was a festering wound. A
failed project six months ago had frozen a river of cash, leaving the
once-proud empire gasping for air. Competitors circled like vultures, and
Robert's own attempts at innovation felt like rearranging deck chairs on the
Titanic.
Silas Thorne's engagement to Elara and the subsequent
partnership had been a lifeline—but it was a project, not a cash infusion.
Robert's eyes narrowed. Elara's new fund… Aeterna Ventures. It was a potential
goldmine, a source of capital he could tap without alerting the sharks. His own
niece's success could be the Hayes family's salvation. He just had to find a
way to control it.
Seeing his boss's silence, the assistant ventured
cautiously, "Perhaps… a word with Ms. Elara? If she could speak to Mr. Thorne,
appeal for an advance on the project funds…"
Robert's hand slashed through the air, cutting him off. The
thought was a bitter pill. "Elara is no longer the pliable girl she once was.
She's tucked away in the Thorne mansion, insulated from my… suggestions."
He dismissed the man with a curt wave. Alone, the weight of
his failures pressed in. Then, a cold, calculating idea took root. He picked up
his phone, dialling his wife.
Claire answered on the fourth ring, her voice languid from a
spa treatment. "Robert? This is a surprise."
"It's time for Bianca to come home," he stated, his voice
devoid of warmth. "I've arranged a meeting for her. With Landon Wade's son."
The line went silent for a beat before Claire's voice
sharpened into a blade. "Have you lost your mind? She's in university! A
'meeting'? You mean an arranged marriage!"
"With her temperament, what respectable family would have
her?" Robert countered, his tone icy and practical. "The Wade boy might be a
little… unrestrained, but his family's connections are solid."
"Unrestrained?" Claire's laugh was shrill. "He's a drunken,
gambling wastrel! You're throwing our daughter to the wolves! Or perhaps you'd
prefer she become the second wife to that fossil, Mr. Massimo?"
"The option is on the table," Robert replied, his calmness
more terrifying than any shout.
A sob of pure rage choked through the line. "You're a
monster, Robert. An absolute beast."
"Then find me another solution," he hissed, his patience
snapping. "Get me one hundred million. You and your daughter, figure it out. Do
that, and I'll forget I ever mentioned the Wades. Fail, and Bianca will do her
duty for this family."
He ended the call without another word, leaving his wife
trembling in a silent, opulent room.
Across town, the Meridian Ballroom was buzzing with a
different kind of energy. The launch of Aeterna Ventures was a coronation.
Elara Hayes-Thorne, radiant in a deep emerald gown that gracefully accommodated
her pregnancy, was the undisputed queen of the hour. Holographic displays
shimmered with the company's mantra—Building Tomorrow, Today—and her voice,
clear and confident, never wavered as she laid out a vision that was both
ambitious and principled.
"We're not here to chase trends," she declared, her gaze
sweeping over the captivated crowd of investors and press. "We're here to build
the foundations. Ethical AI, sustainable tech, the unsexy engines that will
power the next century."
Chloe, acting as Elara's charismatic second-in-command,
moved through the crowd, a brilliant smile plastered on her face. But her sharp
ears caught the undercurrents of doubt beneath the applause.
"A noble experiment," a silver-haired investor muttered into
his champagne, "but the market punishes sentiment. A pregnant CEO and a
'virtuous' fund? It's a beautiful story, but can it turn a profit?"
Worse was the sight of Julian Cohen, the notoriously
cutthroat manager of Ark Fund. He had cornered Elara's lead tech scout, his
posture aggressive, the conversation too intense for a casual chat. Chloe's
smile tightened. A predator was in their midst.
The evening's triumph seemed sealed with the grand
announcement: a $20 million Series A investment in "Syntellect," a brilliant
but obscure AI startup with technology that promised to revolutionise
logistics. The room erupted in applause. Elara glowed, the weight of her
success momentarily lifting all other concerns.
As the crowd began to thin, a young, pale-faced analyst
rushed to Elara's side, a tablet clutched in her white-knuckled hand.
"Ms. Elara," she whispered, her voice trembling. "There's a
problem. With Syntellect."
The air in the suddenly quiet hall grew cold. Chloe hurried
over, her celebratory mood evaporating.
"What kind of problem?" Elara asked, her voice steady,
though a knot of dread tightened in her stomach.
The analyst swiped the screen and handed her the tablet. "An
anonymous tip. Sent to the entire press pool."
Elara's eyes scanned the text of the forwarded email. The colour
drained from her face. The message was brief, brutal, and designed for maximum
damage.
SUBJECT: A Warning for Aeterna Investors
Syntellect's core "proprietary architecture" is not their
own. Due diligence attached. You're investing in stolen code.
The tablet felt heavy as lead in her hands. The foundation
of her triumphant new beginning had just been pulled out from under her.
Back in his office, Robert Hayes received the preliminary
report on Aeterna. It was even more successful than he had imagined. His smile
returned, wider and more predatory this time. Elara was sitting on a fortune.
His phone buzzed. It was Claire. He answered, his voice
dripping with condescending calm. "Have you come to your senses, my dear?"
"Don't you dare touch Bianca," Claire's voice was raw, but
held a new, steely resolve. "You want your money? Fine. I'll get it for you.
But if you think for one second I'm letting you sell our daughter to save your
crumbling empire, you are sorely mistaken."
Robert leaned back, a king on a shaky throne. "I'm waiting."
He hung up, his mind already racing. Claire's threat was
empty; she had no access to that kind of money. No, the real solution was
closer to home. Elara was vulnerable now, her shiny new venture potentially
tarnished. A vulnerable woman needed her family, didn't she? She just needed
the right… persuasion. She just needed to let Elara whisper the right sweet
nothings in her husband's ear. And Robert was an expert at making people do
what he wanted.