Chapter 4 The Search

Xavier's POV

Marriage, to me, was just another business arrangement-a merger of value, not of hearts.

I believed in power.

I believed in control.

And most of all, I believed in outcomes.

Success meant choosing the right target and sentiment clouded judgment. I had no room for that.

I leaned back in the leather chair, gazing at Manhattan's skyline-chaotic, yet elegant when viewed from sixty floors above. Just how I liked it.

"You can't be serious, Xavier," James Harrison said, pacing my office. He threw a torn manila folder on my desk. Inside: files on potential marriage candidates-photos, financials, vulnerability profiles.

"I'm very serious," I replied, raising a glass of Macallan. The amber liquid caught the light like a sunset.

"The will is clear. I marry in six months or Victoria and her allies take control of the company."

James raked a hand through his hair. Of everyone at Montgomery Industries, he was the only one I trusted. We'd been through prep school together, and he'd seen me at my worst.

"There has to be another way," he insisted. "Challenge the will, find a legal loophole-"

"Tried. My grandfather was meticulous."

Patrick Montgomery built this empire from one real estate venture. He believed only married men were fit to run legacies. Outdated, but it was his money, his rules.

"So you're going to treat marriage like a corporate acquisition?" James gestured at the folder.

"Would you rather I fall in love in six months? Some coffee shop meet-cute?"

James didn't smile. "I just don't want you making the same mistake."

Victoria Winters. Her name alone made my jaw tighten. I turned to the windows, but my thoughts drifted to three years ago.

At the time, she was the perfect choice: beautiful, ambitious, and Cornelius Winters' granddaughter. He and my grandfather had built Montgomery Industries together. When Cornelius passed, Victoria inherited his shares, becoming the second-largest shareholder.

Our engagement was splashed across every media outlet. "Merger of the Century," they called it. The Ice King and the Winter Queen.

I'd proposed across a boardroom table after a successful acquisition. "A merger would make sense," I said. "Together, our shares form an unassailable majority."

Victoria smiled, like a blade. "How romantic. I accept."

We ruled the headlines for six months. Eight hundred guests at The Plaza. I focused on consolidating our assets. Then came the Archer Technologies deal. A revolutionary security tech startup. We were poised for the acquisition.

One week before the bid, our strategy leaked. Victoria had accessed my private files-how, I still don't know.

The next day, Donovan Corp. came in with an identical offer.

The ensuing bidding war which erupted had led to a media frenzy. I would've had to triple my offer and destroy our reputation. I walked away, swallowing millions in sunk costs and worse-public humiliation.

That night, I confronted her.

"Why?"

She didn't deny it. Just poured champagne like it was nothing.

"Think of it as a test," she said. "I wanted to see if you'd choose me over the company."

"They're not mutually exclusive."

"Aren't they?" she asked, gliding close. "You're marrying me, Xavier, not making a ledger entry."

"You sabotaged us."

"One deal. And still, you don't get it." She touched my jaw. "You want to control everything. You can't control me."

I ended our engagement that night. But I couldn't erase her from the board, much as I wanted to. Her shares, her legacy were untouchable.

Her parting words still echo:

"This isn't over. I'll take everything. And when I own Montgomery Industries, I'll frame your grandfather's marriage clause in my office."

James cleared his throat, snapping me back.

"All the more reason to be cautious," I said, turning back to my desk. "I need someone with no industry ties. Someone who needs what I offer and won't complicate things."

"You need someone desperate," he said flatly.

"Practical," I corrected, flipping through the folder. Each profile was filled with data-financial burdens, weaknesses, pressure points. All of them too risky. Too connected. Too much baggage.

"What about someone outside this list?" I asked.

"Like who?"

"Someone with talent but no resources. Someone in need of a serious cash infusion."

I opened my tablet and pulled up a website: Sophia Chen Originals. A critically praised but financially struggling fashion label. They were three months behind on rent-in a building owned by one of our subsidiaries.

"A fashion designer?" James frowned.

"Look deeper." I accessed her financials. "Student debt, sister in med school, overdue business expenses."

She had glowing press reviews, a clean name. Both parents had died five years ago-she'd been supporting her sister since.

James studied the data. "You did your homework."

"She's ideal. No corporate ties, a dire financial situation, and her studio's in the Bronson Building-the one we just acquired."

"You're increasing their rent," James noted.

"Opportunity. That's business."

I read more: 28, graduated with a first from Parsons school of designs, design awards. Loyal clientele, no romantic entanglements. Chinese-American. Strong credit until her parents died. Professors described her as fiercely responsible and loyal.

Then I saw her photo. Not classically beautiful like Victoria, but striking. High cheekbones, sharp jaw, dark, resolute eyes. She looked like someone who'd weathered a storm and survived.

I flipped through the portfolio of her work again, with a trained business eye trying to understand what the potential of her designs could be for the market. There was a unique vision, a good artistic voice, but poor commercial application. If everything aligned, her label could have real value. Not Montgomery Industries value, but a value that would make the partnership seem authentic to the outside world.

"She's showing at the charity gala tomorrow," I said.

James's frown deepened. "This isn't a merger. You're pulling someone into a fabricated marriage."

"Fabricated?" I raised a brow. "She benefits. Five million dollars, career funding, elite connections."

"And you keep your inheritance."

"It's a one-year business deal. Defined terms. Mutual gain. Then we move on."

James exhaled. "At least meet her first. See if you can tolerate a year."

I nodded, already absorbed in her designs. Flowing fabrics, clever structures, traditional elements reimagined.

"Her designs are nothing like I have seen before. Raw talent with no resources. Perfect." I said to James.

I flipped back to her photo, studied it then pulled out my phone and started typing.