Fred Thompson shot to his feet the moment Martha Smith appeared on the screen.
There she was...standing on a world stage, her smile as bright as the lights above her, a golden cup raised triumphantly in her hand.
He blinked hard.
Martha?
She had beaten nine professional chefs.
Nine.
For the first time, he wondered if being a chef wasn't such a small dream after all.
He rushed out of the house.
Drove straight to her place.
Parked.
And sat on the pavement, determined to wait ...no matter how long it took.
Two hours passed before she finally arrived… in the same car he had once seen her step out from.
He watched as she got out and waved at the driver with a soft smile.
But as the car pulled away, something inside Fred snapped.
He started his engine and drove right behind, heart pounding.
He wasn't going to let another man steal her attention... not anymore.
He accelerated past eighty, overtook the car, and blocked the driver's path.
Fred stepped out and waited.
The man got down calmly, arms folded, unbothered.
Fred scanned him from head to toe.
Is this the man Martha prefers?
Because he's handsome?
Because he looks confident?
But no...Martha was never the type to fall for empty appearances.
"Hi." Fred forced a smile, though his eyebrows were pulled tight.
"Why did you stop my car?" the man asked, still composed.
"I'm sure you've heard about me," Fred said. "But let me introduce myself properly. My name is Fred Thompson. Martha Smith's boyfriend...for ten years."
"Martha told me about you," the man replied. "A lot."
His face remained unreadable.
"I don't want you dropping her off anymore," Fred said.
The man...Raymond simply smiled and pulled out his phone.
"What are you doing?" Fred asked sharply.
"Calling Martha," Raymond replied. "To tell her what you just said."
Fred lunged to grab the phone, but Raymond raised it out of reach.
"What do you think you're doing?" Raymond asked, this time with a hint of firmness.
"You stopped her from doing what she loved!" Raymond's voice was calm but strong. "She was passionate about this."
Fred's voice cracked.
"Martha lost her virginity to me! She was loyal to me! No man knows her like I do... her body, her soul..."
"I'm not here to fight," Raymond cut in. "I'm only here for what she wants. Did you ever care about that? Do you even know what she wants now?"
Fred swallowed, chest tightening.
"I admit I didn't care before… but I'm ready to fix it. When I saw her holding that cup, standing on that stage, beating nine professionals… I realized I never truly paid attention to her dreams. I want to right my wrongs."
Raymond exhaled deeply.
"She loves you," he said quietly. "I just hope you treat her well."
Then he got back into his car and drove off.
Fred stood there, stunned.
He hadn't expected it to end so simply.
Later, scrolling through his phone, he saw the world celebrating Martha.
Praises everywhere.
His chest swelled.
He had a woman the world admired...and he almost lost her.
He drove to her house and knocked.
She opened the door.
No anger.
No surprise.
Just a calm, unreadable expression. "Hi."
He walked in.
"How have you been?" he asked.
"Very well. And you?"
"Fine." He sat close to the door.
"Congratulations… on your win."
"Thank you, Fred." She served him a cup of coffee.
"Are you still angry with me?"
"Not at all," she said gently.
"I want us back together."
Silence.
She returned with her own coffee and sat opposite him.
"I've just begun my race," she said. "When I'm done… we'll talk."
"How far have you gone?" he asked softly.
She breathed in.
"I've spoken with professionals about establishing branches across the country. My first meeting with the trained chefs I'll be appointing is next week Tuesday. And tonight… a lot of big organizations volunteered to partner with my opening."
Fred's mouth fell open slightly.
The ordinary Martha he once underestimated was gone...replaced by the woman she had always wanted to be.
Why didn't he believe in her?
Why did he expect so much speed from her?
Her phone wouldn't stop ringing...calls pouring in back to back.
"We'll see later, Fred," she said gently.
He stood, nodded, and left.
Driving away, the truth hit him like cold water.
This was no longer the Martha Smith he used to know.
She wasn't hiding her feelings anymore.
She was done.
Just done.
***
The night was unusually quiet at the old storage facility behind Carter Organization's abandoned warehouse.
A single bulb flickered above the back door.
Three men stood inside...sharp-looking, tense, and waiting.
Then Dave Benson walked in.
He wore oversized hoodie and joggers…
Tonight, however, the look in his eyes was nothing close to confused.
He closed the door behind him and scanned the room with sharp awareness.
"Is everything ready?" he asked quietly.
The men nodded.
One of them...a lawyer with nervous hands opened a brown envelope and slid it across the table.
"Everything you asked for, sir. The transfer drafts… the shadow signatories… and the shareholder loophole you mentioned."
Dave pulled out a chair and sat calmly, his fingers tapping once against the wooden table.
"Good," he murmured. "Father built Carter Organization to be untouchable. But he forgot one weakness."
He paused, eyes narrowing.
"He trusts the wrong sons."
He flipped through the documents slowly.
His voice remained soft, almost bored...very different from the clumsy, distracted tone he used around everyone.
"The key," he said, "is timing. My brothers will destroy themselves without my help. Ryan and Jordan will fight for power… Jordan will embarrass the family with another scandal...". He looked up, a faint smile touching his lips."They are weapons. They just don't know it."He spread out a diagram...Carter's ownership structure.
A red mark circled three names.
"Here's the plan," Dave continued."The silent shares. There are old shares registered under Father's first business partner. The man died fifteen years ago. No one updated the documents. We will buy those shares quietly under a shell company. Legally clean. Untraceable.When the board fights over leadership...and they will...I will step in as the only stable Benson son with 'unexpected' controlling interest."Another grin followed. "Father signed a clause last year giving emergency authority to the 'most stable son' if he ever becomes medically unfit."
He tapped the paper lightly."I have his medical report. Stress. Heart condition. Nothing serious… unless the board decides it is."
The lawyer swallowed hard."But sir… if Williams finds out..."
He leaned back calmly, the dim light catching the sharpness in his eyes.
"He won't."
The room went silent.
Dave continued, voice low but chillingly steady.
"Everyone sees me as the strange one. The quiet one. The unimportant one. Good. Let them keep thinking that. The moment they stop watching me…"
He picked up the pen and signed one document with slow confidence.
"…I take everything."
One of the men cleared his throat nervously. "And your brothers?"
Dave capped the pen with deliberate ease.
"They will fight over the crown," he said. "But the throne will already be in my pocket."
He stood, pulled his hoodie back over his head, and slipped his hands into his pockets...returning to his harmless, confused posture.
"Destroy the originals," he instructed softly. "And leave no trace."
He walked out of the warehouse like a man who didn't have a plan in the world.
But in truth, he had all of them.