Chapter 1

The digital ticker on the wall of the New York Stock Exchange was a blur of green. Our company's name, 'NexusAI', was moments away from joining that frantic dance of numbers. This was it, the culmination of three years of sleepless nights and relentless work. My work.

My former mentor, Richard Sterling, a man whose name was once synonymous with tech royalty before a series of scandals tarnished his crown, stood beside me. He wasn't looking at the ticker, he was looking at me, his face a mask of cold demand.

"Olivia, we need to talk."

His voice was low, but it cut through the noise of the trading floor.

"Not now, Richard. It's about to happen."

"It won't happen," he said, his tone flat, final. "Not unless you listen."

I turned to face him fully, a cold knot forming in my stomach. I knew this playbook.

"My son, Julian," he began, "his reputation is in tatters after his last art scandal. Putting him on your board will legitimize him. It'll be like he's part of our tech family."

I stared at him, my mind reeling. Julian. The struggling artist, famous only for being infamous.

"No," I said, the word tasting like metal. "The board is set. This is a tech company, not a charity for your son's public image."

Richard' s eyes, once a source of guidance, now held a glint of steel. "You agree, or this IPO won't happen!"

He didn't need to explain the mechanics. His network, his remaining influence, the quiet calls he could make to investors he' d brought to the table-he could poison the well in minutes.

He didn't wait for my response, he simply turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of suits. He left me stranded on the precipice of my greatest achievement.

This was the ninth time. The ninth time a major career milestone was held hostage by his personal demands. A product launch, a key partnership, a funding round. Each time, he would wait until the final, critical moment, and then he would make his move.

My phone buzzed in my hand. A notification from a tech gossip site. The headline was a quote from Liam, my biggest rival, an inventor as brilliant as he was eccentric.

The quote read: "My favorite tech genius is about to get married to her project. So heartbroken!"

A bitter smile touched my lips. Without a second thought, I pulled up my contacts and sent a text.

To: Liam.

"IPO happening? Meet me at the exchange, now."

My thumb hovered over the send button for a fraction of a second before I pressed it hard. The message was sent.

Fifteen minutes later, a whirlwind of controlled chaos announced his arrival. Liam, dressed in a ridiculously expensive but mismatched designer suit, pushed through the crowd, his hair looking like he' d just stepped out of a wind tunnel.

He stopped in front of me, his eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and a spark of pure, unadulterated glee.

"Are you serious?" he breathed, his gaze flicking from my face to the giant screens. "An IPO, with me?"

"No time for chatter," I said, my voice sharp. "Got your prospectus ready?"

Liam let out a short, incredulous laugh. He ran a hand through his already messy hair.

"I dropped an $800 million patent deal to come here," he muttered, more to himself than to me. "Can't I ask one more question?"

I just looked at him, my expression unyielding. He got the message. He pulled a tablet from his briefcase, his fingers flying across the screen.

The rest was a blur of frantic signatures, last-minute calls to lawyers, and rerouted documents. We made it with seconds to spare.

As the bell rang and 'NexusAI' finally flashed onto the board, a wave of relief so profound washed over me that my knees felt weak.

After the chaos subsided, Liam stood beside me, meticulously reviewing the newly issued stock certificates on his tablet.

"Did I really do this with you, Olivia?" he asked, his voice softer now. "Is this our company now?"

"Yes," I said, the word feeling more real than any other I had spoken all day.

He looked up from his tablet, his usual manic energy replaced by a sudden seriousness.

"Listen, I have to go finalize that deal I dropped. It' s... important." He paused, then added, "I'm sorry. Grab a cab back."

He left as quickly as he arrived, leaving me alone once again in the cavernous hall of the stock exchange.

I was waiting by the curb for a taxi when a sleek black car pulled up. The window rolled down, revealing Richard. His son, Julian, was in the passenger seat.

"Get in," Richard said. It wasn't a request.

I clutched my briefcase, the IPO documents a warm, solid weight inside. I hesitated, then opened the car door.

As I slid onto the leather seat, Richard handed me a small, elegant box.

"Here."

I knew the ritual. After causing me immense distress, after pushing me to the edge, he' d give me a small, exclusive gift. A first-edition piece of tech, a rare gadget. It was his way of saying, "We're past this now," without ever having to apologize. It was a transaction. My silence for his trinket.

I glanced at the box. In the passenger seat, Julian subtly, deliberately, touched the expensive watch on his wrist. I recognized the logo on the box. The smart device inside was just a promotional item for that very watch. A freebie.

I pretended not to notice the connection, placing the gift box on the seat beside me without opening it.

Julian smirked.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice devoid of emotion.

Richard glanced at his son in the rearview mirror, a rare softness in his eyes. "To pick up a special award for Julian, then back to the family estate for the celebration."

Of course. It was Richard' s 80th birthday. I had planned to attend. This, I thought, would be a good time to say goodbye to the old man for good.

He must have seen something in my expression. Through the mirror, his eyes watched my face cautiously. He began to explain, something he rarely did.

"Olivia, don't overthink this," he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "My son, struggling with his reputation alone, will face a lot of gossip. If he's associated with our company, he'll find it easier to regain credibility."

I stared out the window at the blur of the city. "Indeed," I replied, my tone indifferent. "A tarnished reputation makes it hard to get ahead, especially without a solid backing. Being associated with your company is the best option."

At my words, Julian's face darkened. He didn' t like the reminder of his dependency.

Richard corrected me quickly. "Associated with our company, yours and mine." He looked at me expectantly, waiting for the familiar submission.

A sneer formed on my lips. I turned to look at him directly. "What if I refuse?"

The warmth in Richard's face vanished instantly, replaced by a thunderous darkness. "If you refuse, we part ways."

"Fine," I said.

The storm on his face cleared as quickly as it had gathered. He misunderstood. He thought my "fine" was an agreement to his terms, a return to the old dynamic.

A relieved smile spread across his lips. "See, Olivia," he said, his voice condescendingly paternal again. "If you were always this compliant, we'd have sealed this deal already."

I didn't reply. I just watched the rapidly receding scenery outside the car window. Our three-year partnership was slipping away just as fast.

Julian was the same age as Richard' s first company, a fact Richard mentioned with pride. To me, Julian was a constant, unwelcome presence. During board meetings, he' d be there, sketching in a notebook. During business dinners with crucial clients, he' d be there, interjecting with comments about art and philosophy. Even our shared office space, the one I practically lived in, had a large section cordoned off for Julian' s "creative space."

I had complained, repeatedly. "This is unprofessional, Richard."

His answer was always the same. "He's my son. What do you expect?"

Richard and Julian had grown up together, the old man and his late-in-life child. Their bond was exceptionally, uncomfortably strong. Each time he said those words, "He's my son," I would back down.

But Julian seemed to lack any sense of boundaries, always performing his closeness to his father for an audience of one: me.

We pulled up to a lavish hotel. Richard and Julian got out of the car to go collect the "award." As they walked toward the entrance, Julian deliberately linked his arm with his father's. From behind, they looked like a couple, a single unit moving in perfect sync.

I remained in the car, an outsider looking in. For three years, it had been exactly like this. Me, the third wheel on their tandem bicycle.

It took me two years of hard work and proving myself to get close to Richard, to earn his mentorship. I was so invested, so reluctant to throw away that time and effort. He knew that was my weakness. He knew he could push me to the brink, again and again, because he believed I would never walk away.

My phone rang, pulling me from my thoughts. The screen read 'Liam'.

I answered.

"Wife," his voice boomed through the speaker, warm and full of energy. "Patent deal is done. But I have a client dinner tonight, so I'll be late. Eat well. I'll call you when I'm free."

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