Chapter 1 The Scandal

There were three kinds of emergency meetings at Vale Strategies: the routine, the ridiculous, and the reputation-ending. Emilia Hart could tell this one was the third before she even stepped into the glass conference room.

The air was different-tense, clipped. Junior associates looked up at her with the same expression soldiers must give when the general walks into a hopeless battlefield. Miranda Vale, the firm's iron-spined founder, stood at the head of the table, arms folded, lips tight.

"Take a seat, Hart," Miranda said, not looking up from the folder in her hand.

Emilia raised an eyebrow but didn't ask questions. Not yet. She adjusted her blazer and sank into the leather chair, crossing her legs and preparing for the verbal grenade that was about to go off.

Miranda dropped the folder on the table with a soft thud.

"Maddox King."

Even the name had weight. It sucked the oxygen out of the room.

"The tech guy?" Emilia asked, even though she already knew the answer.

Miranda nodded sharply. "The billionaire tech guy. Founder of KingOS. One of the richest men in the world. Just punched a senator's son at a private fundraiser in the Hamptons last night. It's already viral-half the headlines say "Billionaire Thug."

A partner sighed. "The board's threatening to freeze a new investor round if he doesn't clean up his image-fast."

Emilia's mind flipped into gear. "What's the angle? Self-defense? Drunk? PR stunt gone wrong?"

"Unknown. He hasn't given a statement. Refuses to speak to the press. Refuses to apologize. Just silence and lawyers."

"Then why," Emilia said carefully, "are you calling me?"

Miranda gave her the look-the one that meant: this is dangerous, and I trust only you.

"Because you're the only one who won't be intimidated by him," she said. "Or impressed."

They weren't wrong. Maddox King might be tall, dark, and devastatingly wealthy, but Emilia had learned long ago not to fall for sharp suits and brooding gazes. She was here to fix stories, not star in one.

"He hired us, Emilia. Or more accurately-his legal team did. He's expecting someone at 9:00 tomorrow. That someone is you."

The KingTech Tower didn't so much rise out of Midtown as dominate it. All sleek obsidian glass and steel edges, it was a testament to control and precision. Emilia's heels clicked against polished marble as the silent assistant escorted her through an unnervingly minimalist lobby and into the private elevator.

"Floor 52," the assistant said without emotion.

As the elevator ascended, Emilia centered herself. She wasn't here to be liked. She was here to solve a problem.

And Maddox King? He was just another client. Complicated, maybe. Infamous, sure. However, she remains a human being.

Probably.

The elevator opened with a soft chime.

She stepped into a space that was more fortress than office: glass walls, sharp lines, no trace of warmth. Just cool, expensive silence.

And there he was.

Maddox King.

He stood at the far window, posture rigid, back straight, like he was daring the skyline to challenge him. He turned when she approached, and Emilia got her first full look at the man behind the headlines.

He was handsome the way thunder was loud-all hard edges and dangerous intensity. Dark hair. Grey eyes like frozen smoke. Not even a flicker of surprise as he looked her over.

"You're early," he said, voice low and polished.

"Or you're just used to people being late," Emilia replied.

He watched her a moment longer. "You're not what I expected."

"Good. I don't like being predictable." She took off her coat and folded it over her arm. "Mr. King, I'm Emilia Hart. Miranda assigned me to assess and control your current media crisis."

"Crisis," he echoed, as if amused by the word.

"You assaulted someone at a fundraiser, there are blood-stained photos on TMZ, and three investors are considering pulling out," she said. "If that doesn't count as a crisis, we may need to redefine your threshold for disaster."

He walked slowly toward the table, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and sat down. Not once did he offer her a drink.

"I don't care about the press."

"You should," she said, sitting across from him. "Because the press controls public perception. And public perception affects your board. Which affects your company. Which-"

"-affects my empire," he finished. "Yes, I know how the game works."

"Then let's play it."

He studied her with unsettling calm. "What's your strategy?"

"First, you tell me exactly what happened last night."

"No."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not interested in spinning a lie. Or pretending I'm sorry."

"Then why the hell did you hire us?"

"Because I need someone to handle the optics. Create enough noise elsewhere so this fades. You don't need my side of the story. You just need to be better at yours."

Her jaw tightened. "Let me be very clear, Mr. King. I don't work blind. I don't lie to the press. And I certainly don't babysit billionaires who think they're above consequences. If you want a mouthpiece, call someone else. If you want a miracle, give me something to work with."

A pause.

And then-he smiled. Slightly. Not kindly.

"I was told you were smart. I didn't realize you were brave."

"I'm both. And you're out of time."

Silence stretched.

Then, with the same detached casualness that made her skin crawl, he said, "He touched someone he shouldn't have."

Emilia narrowed her eyes. "The senator's son?"

Still, Maddox said nothing. She just stared out the window again, as if she wasn't worth an answer.

"You punched him to protect someone?"

No response.

Emilia leaned forward. "You know this would be so much easier if you just gave me the full story."

He glanced at her, expression unreadable. "Nothing about me is easy."

She left the tower two hours later with a contract, a stack of NDAs, and a storm brewing behind her calm exterior.

He was colder than the stories, sharper than the rumors. But there was something else too-buried behind the detachment. Something human. Something... broken.

And Emilia Hart had made a career out of rebuilding what others thought was too far gone.

She looked up at the gleaming tower behind her and whispered, "Let's see what secrets you're hiding, Mr. King."

Because everyone had a story.

And she was about to rewrite his.