Chapter 5 Shadows and Champagne

The academy's business simulation lab looked more like the headquarters of a luxury tech firm than a classroom. Glass walls, a floor-to-ceiling view of the city, sleek black desks arranged in a circle. On each desk sat a glowing tablet, already displaying our assigned roles for the exercise.

Mine read: Chief Financial Officer – Sterling Corp. Expansion Trial.

The title made my stomach tighten. Out of every company in the world, they had to pick this one?

Professor Leighton, a tall man in a tailored charcoal suit, explained the scenario - we had thirty minutes to make a decision about a fictional overseas acquisition, balancing financial projections, market risk, and board politics.

I kept my focus on the numbers, ignoring the way Damian Sterling sat across the room, his gaze steady and unreadable. Adrian was nowhere to be seen - he'd probably charmed his way out of attending.

The simulation began. The others around the table debated loudly, tossing out terms like "ROI" and "equity dilution." I barely heard them. The numbers on my tablet blurred, rearranging themselves in patterns that felt strangely familiar.

It wasn't logic. It was instinct.

My fingers flew over the screen, running projections I hadn't even realized I knew how to make. Every move felt inevitable, like I was following steps laid out years ago in a language only I understood.

By the end of the session, the acquisition was projected at a 14% higher return than the professor's benchmark model.

When the results flashed on the main screen, the room fell silent.

Professor Leighton smiled faintly. "Impressive work, Miss Vale. Or should I say... CFO Vale."

Heat crept into my cheeks, but before I could reply, Damian spoke.

"She didn't just model the acquisition. She anticipated the board's political response. That's... rare."

The room shifted, the other students stealing glances at me. I hated the sudden attention, but Damian's words lingered long after the session ended.

I was gathering my things when his voice came from behind me.

"Walk with me."

I hesitated, but he was already heading toward the glass doors.

The hallway outside was quiet, the late afternoon light filtering through tall windows.

"What happened in there?" he asked.

"I read the numbers," I said simply.

"That wasn't reading," he said. "That was instinct. The kind you can't fake."

I met his gaze. "Is that a compliment or a warning?"

"Both."

We stopped at the end of the hall, where the city stretched out in golden light. He studied me for a long moment before speaking again.

"You've been avoiding the truth about who you are," he said quietly. "But sooner or later, you're going to have to stop running. And when you do, you'll need someone who knows the rules."

I crossed my arms. "And that someone is you?"

His mouth curved just slightly. "I'm offering to teach you how to win. What you do with that... is your choice."

Before I could answer, he stepped aside, letting me pass.

That night, the academy hosted a networking reception in one of the glass atriums. Champagne flowed freely, the air thick with the scent of peonies and expensive perfume.

I wasn't planning to stay long - until I saw him.

Victor Kane stood near the far wall, dressed in a black suit that absorbed the light. He was speaking to a man I didn't recognize, but his eyes flicked toward me the moment I entered.

I moved toward the balcony, needing space to breathe. The city glittered beyond the glass, the sound of soft jazz and clinking glasses muffled behind me.

"You shouldn't look so tense," a voice drawled from my left.

Adrian was leaning casually against the railing, his tie loose, a champagne flute in his hand.

"I didn't know you were here," I said.

"I wasn't. But then I heard my brother was spending a lot of time with a certain new student, and I got curious."

I rolled my eyes. "You're impossible."

"And you're far too serious." He clinked his glass lightly against the railing. "Let me guess - Damian told you he can protect you, Serena told you she can guide you, and Victor told you you'll never escape."

I froze. "How do you-"

"Because that's exactly what they told me," he said, his grin tinged with something darker. "Years ago. Different circumstances, same game."

He took a sip of champagne, his eyes holding mine. "The trick is not to let any of them own you. Not even me."

For a moment, the noise from inside faded, replaced by the soft hum of the city below us.

Then Adrian's expression shifted, his voice dropping. "You should know - Damian isn't the only one watching you. Victor has people here tonight."

My breath caught. "Where?"

He nodded toward the crowd. "Tall man by the champagne tower. Woman in the green dress near the piano. Both of them answer to him."

The weight of his warning settled in my chest. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I don't like seeing people cornered," he said. "Unless I'm the one doing the cornering."

I left the reception early, slipping out through the side exit. The rain had stopped, but the air was damp and cool, the city lights reflecting off the wet pavement.

Halfway to the dorm, I heard footsteps behind me.

I turned - and Victor was there.

"You're getting better at leaving without being noticed," he said, almost approving. "But you're not invisible yet."

"I'm not trying to be invisible," I said, though my pulse betrayed me.

He stepped closer, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the damp night air. "That's good. Because the Gala will not be a place for ghosts. It will be a place for heirs. And you, Elena... are the only heir that matters."

His words slid into me like a hook.

"I'm not going," I said.

"You will." His voice was certain, as if the decision had already been made. "And when you do, you'll have to choose which wolf you'd rather be eaten by."

With that, he turned and disappeared into the night.

Back in my room, I stood by the window, the city a sea of light and shadow below.

Damian's offer. Adrian's warning. Victor's certainty.

The game was tightening around me.

And the more I tried to keep my heart out of it, the more I could feel the pull - not just of power, but of something far more dangerous.

Not every kind of hunger was about money.