Bound by Betrayal

Sophia's POV

The eviction notice fell from my hands to the floor.

I looked down at the official letter, trying to keep the tears from blurring the words at the top of the page in bold black letters which read, in part, that we had thirty days before we had to close down our studio. That was the remaining time we had in the space that had been both home and haven for three years.

I looked around the small studio, the walls with their exposed brick covered in fashion sketches and fabric swatches, my vintage sewing machine I had bought from a thrift shop, my mannequins adorned with half-finished designs. This place had been a physical realization of my dreams.

I notice the dust motes dancing in the sunlight coming through the big industrial windows, clearly showing the nearly empty display rack in the corner which was supposed to hold our finished pieces, but held just three. A hand-embroidered jacket inspired by my Chinese heritage, a lovely body-skimming evening gown incorporating unexpected structural elements, and a day dress that uniquely mixed Western designs while maintaining Eastern details.

I picked up the notice and my hands trembled a little as I read it for what felt like the hundredth time. But it did not change: rent tripled in thirty days.

"How are we going to afford this?" I asked the empty space.

The building had changed hands a number of times since we moved in and our rent stayed the same-which was awesome luck in New York City's competitive real estate market. That was gone now, and with that, our dreams of a business.

My phone buzzed on the cutting table. Displaying a smiling photo of Lily. Perfect timing.

I took a deep breath and forced some cheer into my voice. "Hey, Lil! How's my favorite future doctor?"

"Exhausted, but excited," she replied. I could hear the fatigue in her bright voice. "We just had an awesome cardio workshop, and I think I'm actually starting to get the hang of it."

I smiled in spite of everything. At just twenty-two, Lily had inherited our mom's scientific mind and kind heart. A perfect combination for her to follow through with her lifetime dream of being a medical doctor.

"That's great," I said, moving towards the window. "I have never doubted you for a second."

"Well, speaking of doubts..." she drew out her words in that way I had come to recognize "There is a lab project coming up, and we need to buy some pretty specific equipment..."

My stomach turned. I stared at the eviction notice still in my hand.

"How much?" I asked, keeping my voice from shaking.

"Three thousand," she said quickly. "I know that is a lot, but it is mandatory for our final evaluation, and I would never ask if there is another option..."

I closed my eyes while I visualized our almost empty bank account. Between paying rent at the end of the week and the supplies to create the very few orders we had, we were already wiped out. But five years ago when our parents died, I made a promise to them that I would do everything I could do to ensure she accomplished her goals by giving her the education she desired, even if it was at the expense of mine.

"It's not a big deal," I lied smoothly over the phone. "Business is picking up a bit. I can send you the money by weekend."

"Really?" The relief in her voice was easy to detect. "You're the best, Soph! I promise I'll pay you back when I am a fancy doctor earning six figures."

I chuckled, the sound hollow even to me. "I'll hold you to that. Maybe when I'm a famous designer dressing up celebrities, you can be my private physician."

"You've got a deal," she said, and I could hear her smile through the phone. "Oh, I have go, I have anatomy lab class in five minutes. Love you!"

"Love you," I echoed, but she had already hung up.

I placed the phone down and rested my hands on the cutting table, shoulders slumped from the weight of responsibility, three thousand dollars I didn't have for Lily, rent I didn't have, and a company that was on its last legs.

Hearing the sound of the shop bell, I quickly wiped the wetness from my eyes and stood up.

"We're closed!" I called out, not bothering to turn around.

"Good thing I'm not a customer then," answered the voice of Elena Rodriguez, her warm Spanish accent filling the air with ease.

I turned as she walked in, looking radiant and beautiful in a stylish red wrap dress and flawless make-up, holding coffee and pastries in her hands.

"You look terrible," she said, taking a good look at me as she set the pastries and coffee down on the table.

"Wow!" I replied with a scowl, taking the cup from her. "Just what every girl wants to hear."

But Elena wasn't wrong though, I did look terrible. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror across the room, I noticed the dark circles under my eyes and my olive skin looking pale and washed out due to too many sleepless nights.

Elena looked curiously at the notice in my hand. "What is that?"

Wordlessly, I handed her the notice and she read it quickly, her perfectly arched brows pulled together.

"They're tripling the rent? They can't do that!" Her voice became indignant.

"Actually, they can." I said, "We're month to month, remember? They have thirty days to give us notice of any changes." I settled into the worn chair next to my desk, holding my coffee in my hands. "We can barely afford the rent as it is, Elena. There's no way we're going to be able to pay triple."

Elena put the notice down very carefully. "Okay. Let's try to look at this clearly. How many orders do we have right now?"

"Three," I gestured toward the rack of completed garments. "The jacket for the Thompson wedding, Mrs. Garcia's gala dress, and the Johannsen day dress."

"And prospective orders?"

I shrugged. "A couple of inquiries. Nothing concrete. Our regulars love us, but-"

"-we don't have enough of them," Elena interjected. She began walking back and forth across the room. "We need exposure. We need to get your designs in front of people who can actually afford them."

"That takes connections we don't have," I reminded her. "Or money that we definitely don't have."

Elena stopped walking back and forth, a slow smile forming on her face. "Not necessarily."

I looked up at her suspiciously. "What are you up to?"

"The charity fashion gala on Friday night," she exclaimed.

My heart sank. "The gala with $5000 tickets?"

Elena's expression became sly as she dug into her handbag. She pulled two, embossed invitations. "What if I told you my cousin Javier is catering the event, and his boss's wife happens to be a huge fan of that cocktail dress I showed you last season?"

I focused on the invitations, anxiety wrestling with the excitement in my belly. "Elena... if we get busted-"

"We won't," she said, and pushed one of the invitations into my hand. "We'll be like Cinderella, if Cinderella was going to the ball to get funding, and not a prince."

Despite everything, I laughed. "That's definitely not how that story goes."

"Well, I feel it should be," Elena said, sipping from her coffee. "Princes are seriously overrated, financial independence is king."

I held the invitation in both hands. The Met Gala-New York's elites, designers, investors, influencers. If just one person saw something in my work... it could turn the tide.

"Okay," I finally said. "Let's go."

"Yes. That's my girl!" Elena shouted, her eyes then landing on her phone. "Let me make a list of all the people we need to target. You finish that jacket for Thompson so we at least have some income coming in for the month."

Elena began typing on her phone, I picked up my coffee and took a long sip, the heat and caffeine settling my nerves as I began to feel the faintest flicker of hope.

"By the way," she said, glancing up from her phone, "you won't believe why the rent has tripled! Montgomery Industries just bought out the whole block!"

I froze, "Montgomery Industries?"

"Umm hmm, that big conglomerate owned by the 'Ice King' himself!" Elena flipped her phone around for me to see the bold headline on an article in a business news site.

"Xavier Montgomery. Rumor has him buying up half of Manhattan. And now, apparently, our small corner of it."

"Well," I said, putting my coffee down with newfound resolution, "let's just hope Mr. Montgomery doesn't like charity gala fashion shows. I certainly don't want to meet him for the first time as I beg him not to evict us."

I turned away from the glowing screen back to the eviction notice on my desk. One way or the other, I had to find a way out of this, for the business, for Lily, and for the promise I made to my parents. And I had thirty days to do so.

Xavier's POV

The board members stared at me, waiting for any weakness. And I had absolutely no intention of granting them that satisfaction.

"Gentlemen and Lady," I gave a curt nod to Victoria who had a smile on her blood-red lips.

"The projections for the 3rd quarter have surpassed the projections by seventeen percent. The Westside development is ahead of schedule, and the Chelsea property portfolio acquisition has already appreciated twelve percent."

I stood at the head of a gleaming mahogany table, my hands atop its shiny surface. A perfect view of the Manhattan skyline clearly visible from the floor to ceiling windows in the Montgomery boardroom, a reminder to everyone of the empire my grandfather built and I expanded.

"In conclusion," I continued in a measured tone, "Montgomery Industries remains the market's clear leader in commercial real estate development throughout New York, and in addition, its market presence continues to grow in Chicago and Miami."

My stare skimmed the twelve board members spread around the table, lingering briefly at each face. Most were older men, previous long-standing acquaintances of my father or grandfather, attempting to look neutral, but I knew they were all dissecting the numbers in their heads. Two younger members-new additions -watched with obvious admiration.

Then there was Victoria.

Victoria Winters, with her flawless, blonde hair, cut in an angular bob that highlighted her sharp cheekbones and those unnerving green eyes. She looked perfectly clad in a stylish black dress that likely cost more than a month's wages for most. Her perfectly manicured fingers lightly tapped on the table, all the while watching me, like a predator assessing its prey.

"Impressive as always, Xavier," she said with those honey-smooth words. "But I'm curious about the decision to dive into the Chelsea acquisitions so... aggressively. Market indicators indicated a wait-and-see perspective may have yielded better terms.

And there it was-the subtle undermining, the suggestion that I had acted impulsively rather strategically.

"Market indicators you refer to, Victoria, were exactly why we acted when we did." I stated coolly. "Our analysts saw that we had a three-week window, before those properties attracted competitive bids. In the end, we acquired them at twelve percent below the market value."

Victoria's smile didn't change. "And the expedited financing fees?"

"It's four percent," I replied. "Which still gives us an eight percent lead. Full details on the calculations are in section three of your packets, if you would like to see them."

A few of the board members flipped through papers again, others only nodded in approval. My gaze went back to Victoria, I noticed the faintest narrowing of her gaze. A chink in the armor.

Charles Winston, a man in his mid-fifties with thick gray hair and Victoria's most steadfast ally on the board, cleared his throat. "What about the inheritance clause, Xavier? Your grandfather was quite clear about the timeline."

Although I kept my expression neutral, I could feel my jaw tighten.

My father, Marcus Montgomery, spoke from the far end of the table.

"The inheritance clause is a family matter, he boomed, a deep voice for a big man. "It has no bearing on company operations."

Charles didn't back down. "Respectfully, Marcus, if controlling interest is unstable, the board must act in the company's best interest."

I almost loosened my tie - the room seemed to be getting hotter.

I clenched my jaw, willing myself to remain composed. The clause. The damn clause that required I be married before thirty-five to retain my shares. A fossil of my grandfather's values-family first, even in business.

Unfortunately, Victoria had found out. Now it was another piece in the game she and Charles were playing.

"Whether I'm married or not has nothing to do with my ability to run this company," I said firmly. "The clause is only a matter of formality that will be taken care of before the deadline."

Victoria leaned forward slightly. "Six months really isn't a long time to find a bride, Xavier. Unless, of course, you already have someone in mind?"

The question lingered in the air, pregnant with meaning. Victoria and I had been engaged three years ago in a short-lived business deal that had not ended well, although she still had a sizeable portion of Montgomery Industries stock, passed down from her grandfather, who was my grandfather's old business partner, which ensured that I could not remove her from the board.

"I assure you everything is in hand," I replied, with a dismissive tone. "Now if we can return to an actual agenda-there's the Robertson deal that needs our attention."

For the next hour, I formally steered the meeting back to business; reports, plans, and decisions with such willfulness that by the time I ended the meeting, the brief mention of the inheritance clause was a distant echo.

"Thanks for your time," I said, folding up my papers and putting them in my briefcase. "James will send out the action items for the next month".

James Harrison, my friend since childhood and currently chief legal counsel for Montgomery Industries, nodded from his spot next to the door. Tall and athletic, with warm brown skin and intense brown eyes behind expensive eyeglasses, James was the one person I could count on in the building.

As the board trickled out, murmuring approval, Victoria stayed behind a moment longer.

She stepped close. Too close. Her perfume, a subtle, familiar scent, wrapped around me like a ghost.

"A word of advice," she said softly, almost kindly. "Don't wait too long to handle your... situation. Markets hate instability, and so do I."

"Is that a threat, Victoria?"

"Think of it as a gentle reminder of our common interests." Her beautiful smile did not reach her eyes. "After all, we both do not want to see Montgomery Industries' control fall into... uncertain hands."

And with that, she glided out of the room, leaving behind the familiar cold air that always came from her.

James rounded to approach me, raising an eyebrow. "That looked pleasant."

"As pleasant as a root canal," I muttered, finally removing my tie. "She is planning something."

"She's always planning something," James said. "And Charles bringing up the clause today? That wasn't a mistake."

"No. It wasn't." I grimaced, looking out at the view of the city below. At this height, people looked like ants, moving with little thought or consideration of where they were headed.

"Find out what she's up to," I said. "Every meeting, every contact, every backchannel conversation."

James nodded, tapping his tablet. "And the clause?"

"I'll handle it," I said tightly as I gathered my presentation materials and zipped them into my leather portfolio, "Let's focus on Victoria for now."

The last of the board left. Only my father remained, gazing out the glass at the skyline like he owned it. Tall, wide shouldered with sharp blue eyes and steel gray hair, Marcus Montgomery at sixty-five still cut a commanding figure.

"Walk with me." It wasn't a suggestion.

We moved down the executive floor of Montgomery Tower in silence as the employees bowed their heads in respect and turned away from my father's stare.

We stepped in the private elevator that would take us to our offices on the penthouse level.

The elevator doors closed, and Inside, sealed in private, the mask slipped.

"You're being reckless", he said flatly. "Victoria is picking up allies on the board and you are letting her."

"I am aware of Victoria's ambitions," I said, trying to maintain a cool tone.

"The company's numbers-"

"Don't matter if you lose control," he snapped. "The clause is real. The deadline is real. You have six months to marry, or the board-that board-where Victoria and Charles continue to gain ground takes control of your grandfather's legacy."

"It's an old-fashioned clause from a bygone era," I said, barely suppressing the bitterness in my voice.

"Old-fashioned or not, it's still a binding document." My father sharpened his gaze on me. "You have six months to find a wife, or you hand controlling interest of this company on a silver platter to the board. And we both know where Victoria will take things if that happens."

The elevator doors opened to the plush silence of the penthouse. My father stepped out and turned back to face me. The harsh lighting above us showing the deep lines around his eyes and mouth, evidence of hard-fought business battles and personal loss, which included the death of my mother when I was twelve.

He handed a file over to me. "You have six months, Xavier. Marry, or watch everything your grandfather built go to Victoria and her supporters. It's your choice."

I held the file, my fingers curling tightly around the edge. I knew that file would contain profiles of women my father deemed suitable marriage candidates, women from the right families and background and with the right connections and qualifications of a Montgomery bride. My father had been creating variations of this list since my engagement with Victoria ended, and each one was more desperate as my thirty-fifth birthday approached.

As the elevator doors began to close, my father added, "Don't make the same mistake twice. This time pick someone who has something to lose if they betray you. Pick someone you can control."

The doors closed and I was alone with the sound of my father's voice and the file of future wives. I loosened my tie completely and leaned against the wall of the elevator, suddenly feeling the weight of the Montgomery legacy on my shoulders, pressing down on me relentlessly.

Six months. To find and marry a woman I could trust-hardly an impossible task considering my experience in life, or lose everything I had worked for to Victoria.

I stared at the file in my hands. Surely, there was another option, a plan I hadn't thought of?

I needed someone without connections to Victoria or her accomplices. Someone with no dirty history to sift through, who would gain enough from a temporary marriage to make her compliant and cooperative.

I needed someone whom I could completely control.

By the time the elevator reached the private office floor, I was already putting together a plan. It would not be a love match-a luxury I couldn't afford and a risk I would never take again. But it would be an answer.

And Xavier Montgomery always had the answers.

Sophia's POV

The spreadsheet blurred before my eyes, a financial Everest I had no gear to scale. Every red column was another summit I couldn't climb-rent, utilities, fabric suppliers, equipment leases, and worst of all, Lily's mounting med school bills. I pushed my long black hair back and rubbed my eyes. The numbers remained: cold, red, and unforgiving against the harsh white cells marked "Report Failure."

"This cannot be right," I whispered to the empty studio.

I recalculated for the third time. Even if I drained my savings-my emergency fund since undergrad-I'd still be thousands short.

The ancient radiator hissed, releasing a weak burst of heat. Outside, New York throbbed with life, oblivious to my quiet collapse. Afternoon shadows stretched across the neighboring brick walls, creeping toward me. Soon I'd need to turn on every light I could barely afford.

I braced my hands against my throbbing temples. My design label was buried in red. Next month's tripled rent would be the final blow.

My phone buzzed on the desk, "Lily". Taking a deep breath, I picked up the phone, saying with forced cheer.

"Hey sis! How's the future Dr. Chen today?"

"Drowning in anatomy flashcards," Lily laughed. I could picture her perfectly-small like me, but with our dads round face, reading glasses perched on her nose as she sat on her bed studying in her campus apartment.

"You'll crush it, Lil. You always do."

"I wish I had your confidence." She paused, her voice lowering. "So, about that lab fee..."

My stomach twisted. "I am trying to sort out a few things. I should have it next week."

"Really? Because, if you are tight this month-"

"Don't even go there," I interrupted, my voice firm even though panic was budding in my chest. "Your job is to become the best doctor ever. My job is to make sure that you do."

"But Soph-"

"No buts. Mom and Dad wanted this for you."

The mention of our parents hung in the air between us; it had been five years since the accident that took them both, but some wounds never quite heal.

I closed my eyes and let myself be dragged back to that cold rainy night in the hospital. Mom's cold hand as she whispered.

"Take care of Lily, xiǎo hǔ." Little tiger. "Promise me."

"I promise," I had sobbed. I hadn't known then how hard it would be to keep.

"Soph? Are you still there?" Lily's voice broke through the haze of memory back to the present.

"Yes, sorry. Just thinking." I quickly changed the subject. "How is the new roommate?"

After a few minutes, she had to go. I hung up and stared at the spreadsheet, despair curling in my gut.

The studio door slammed open. I jumped.

"Girl, if you're trying to work yourself to death, at least do it with more caffeine!" Elena Rodriguez said as she walked in, dressed in one of her own designs. She placed a coffee cup on my desk.

"Triple espresso. You look worse than yesterday," she added, her dark eyes studying me critically.

I managed a weak grin. "Good to see you too, Elena."

"Was that Lily?" She nodded toward my phone and plopped down in the chair across from mine.

"Yes. She needs another three thousand for some special lab program."

Elena's perfectly shaped brows shot up. "And you said...?"

"That I would take care of it," I said, my head falling into my hands.

She sighed and leaned forward to see my computer screen. A frown crossed her forehead as she looked at the numbers.

"Sophia Chen, financial wizard, strikes again." While there was sarcasm, I could see genuine concern behind Elena's dark and round face. "We have to fix this."

"I know."

"The rent is due in thirty days, three suppliers haven't been paid this month, let's not forget Lily wants more money...we need a miracle, not a triple espresso."

I took a sip of the coffee and let the warm bitterness fill me. "What am I supposed to do Elena? Tell Lily to drop out? After all the work my parents did to get her there?"

This softened Elena, as she reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "Of course not. But you are sacrificing everything, your health, your savings, and possibly your sanity." Elena gestured around the small studio, with cutting tables, dress forms, and sketching walls along with a stack of color swatches. "And this too."

I looked around our space. It was our space, this messy little room we had created together. Small, yes, and getting increasingly cramped and grungy, but it was our true dream realized; a really working design studio, in Manhattan, making pieces that represent my Chinese heritage in modern silhouettes. The critics raved about us. The people who pay for our work were still non-existent.

"Who knows, maybe tomorrow's gala will turn it around," I said, though not not quite able to muster the belief in it anymore then I had a moment ago.

Elena's face lit up, she quickly moved her chair towards me and almost hopped in her seat with excitement. "That's what I came to talk about!" She was glowing with enthusiasm. "You know Vera Simmons is going to be there, right?"

"The editor from Style Quarterly?" My heart skipped in my chest.

"The very same. And I hear she's looking for 'undiscovered talent' for their spring feature." Elena's smile was dazzling. "This could be it, Soph. Our big break."

I wanted to believe her, but that blasted spreadsheet glowing accusingly on my screen made hope feel dangerous. "We have heard that before."

"This time is different. Half the industry will be there, including investors looking for the next big thing." She picked up a sketchbook from my desk and flipped through my recent designs. "With these? You'll blow their socks off."

The designs were good. Flowing gowns with structured elements, each telling a story. The collection was about strength in vulnerability, inspired by my mother's jade and metal butterfly pendant-now hanging around my neck.

Elena darted to the sample closet. "What are you wearing tomorrow? Please say its not the black pantsuit again."

"What's wrong with my pantsuit?"

"Besides everything?" She returned with a garment bag. "You're wearing this. The blue silk qipao with modern structuring."

She unzipped it-a sapphire blue piece with a mandarin collar, side fastenings, geometric cutouts, and an uneven hem. My favorite.

"Elena, that's for the show-".

"And now it is for you. You are the face of this brand, Sophia. You need to look like it." Her tone left no room for argument. "Plus it makes your eyes pop."

I sighed. Elena was immovable when her mind was made up.

"Okay. The blue dress."

"And I'm doing your makeup. Dramatic eyes. Got to show off those Chen genes with those gorgeous almond eyes."

For a quick second, I felt a little burst of excitement. The gala was important; the elites of New York fashion would be there along with potential investors and media. If we could get one wealthy patron interested in what we are doing....

"Look at that," Elena said softly.

"What?"

"Hope. I can see it on your face." She smiled. "Keep that feeling. Tomorrow may indeed turn everything on its head."

We spent the next few hours working on the gala: picking accessories, putting the final touches on my portfolio for possible investors, and rehearsing my elevator speech until I could have said it in my sleep.

By evening, Elena headed home. I stayed behind, too wired to leave. The spreadsheet still glowed, mocking me.

With a swift click, I closed the file. Tomorrow would be a new day. A new tiny chance to change course.

I collected my stuff, about to lock up for the night, when my phone lit up with an incoming text. Unknown number.

Curious, I tapped the notification. The blue screen lit up the dim studio.

"I've seen your work. I have an offer that could change everything for you.-XM, Montgomery Industries."