Chapter Five - Firestorm
1377 Words
It started with a phone call.
Not just any call, but the kind that literally splits the air in half, the kind you feel in your bones before you even answer the phone.
Natalie was in her studio that Sunday afternoon, finishing edits on the gala installation proposal, her laptop glowing on the paint-splattered table. Her coffee had gone cold, her hair pulled into a messy knot, and the city’s faint hum filtered through her open window. The deadline loomed, but she was steady focused. Until her phone lit up.
Her best friend’s name. ‘Mia’
“Hey,” Natalie said, eyes still glued to the glowing screen as her fingers tapped away.
Silence. A pause that prickled the back of her neck.
Then—“Nat… what is this?”
Her head snapped up. “What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t tell me you had an entire wall in your apartment dedicated to..” Her friend’s voice dropped into a hushed whisper. “destroying Alexander Steele.”
Every muscle in Natalie’s body went cold.
“You were in my apartment?”
“You left your spare key with me, remember? I came by to drop off the wine for Friday and Nat, you have photos, documents… emails. It’s obsessive.”
“It’s evidence,” Natalie shot back, sharper than she intended. Her heart hammered in her chest. “And it stays between us.”
Another pause. Long enough to make her stomach twist.
When her friend spoke again, her tone was quiet but resolute. “I think you’re losing yourself in this. So… I sent it to someone who can help.”
The blood drained from Natalie’s face. “You did what?”
“I phoned a journalist friend of mine. She promised to not use your name”
Natalie didn’t hear the rest. She was already moving. Bag. Jacket. Keys. Door. Her body acted before her brain caught up, panic pushing her into the hallway.
By Monday morning, the world already knew.
Headlines read;
STEELE & CO. UNDER FIRE - ALLEGATIONS OF DESIGN THEFT & CORPORATE SABOTAGE.
The headline screamed from every phone screen, every news ticker. By the time Natalie reached the office, it was a madhouse. Her inbox looked like a digital battlefield hundreds of unread messages piling in by the second. Her phone vibrated nonstop with calls from journalists, blocked numbers, even colleagues she hadn’t spoken to in years.
Outside Steele & Co.’s sleek glass tower, reporters camped like vultures, shoving microphones into the faces of anyone who entered. Flashbulbs burst as Natalie slipped through the revolving door, her pulse thundering in her ears.
Inside, the chaos was worse. On the lobby’s massive screens, Steele & Co.’s stock price plunged in real time, a jagged red line cutting downward like a knife. Clusters of employees whispered in corners, their eyes darting toward her with a mix of fear and accusation as she passed.
And then summons.
The email arrived in bold text at the top of her inbox:
MANDATORY EMERGENCY BOARD MEETING -10:00 A.M.
Her throat tightened. She barely had time to breathe before she was ushered into the conference room.
It was packed. Every board member sat stiff and pale, their faces creased with anxiety. Legal advisors hovered at the edges, whispering among themselves. The air was so thick with tension it was hard to breathe.
At the head of the table sat Alexander Steele. Immaculate in a tailored navy suit, his silver cufflinks gleamed under the lights. Perfectly calm. Perfectly composed. He radiated the kind of power that didn’t flinch under fire - it sharpened.
Natalie’s legs wobbled as she sank into a chair. She didn’t dare glance at Liam, though she felt him, rigid and silent, across the table.
Alexander waited until the room hushed before speaking. His voice carried like smoke, smooth and dangerous.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, gesturing with deliberate grace, “it appears we have a security breach. One involving a certain… art consultant who, it turns out,”has a bone to pick with this company.” Gasps rippled around the room. Murmurs followed. Dozens of eyes swiveled toward Natalie, cutting into her like blades.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Alexander raised a hand, silencing her with ease. His lips curled into a smirk that could slice through steel.
“Or should I say,” he continued, his gaze pinning her, “a corporate spy?”
The word hit the table like a gunshot.
Natalie’s stomach dropped. Spy. That single accusation painted her as a traitor, not a whistleblower. And in a company like Steele & Co., perception was everything.
Her heart raced. “That’s not true,” she forced out, but her voice wavered, drowned beneath the weight of the room’s hostility.
Across the polished oak, Liam sat still. Too still. His jaw was locked, his eyes fixed—not on her, but on Alexander. It was the only thing that kept her from shattering completely: that flicker of something in Liam’s gaze. Something unreadable.
When the meeting finally adjourned, the room emptied in a flurry of whispers and sideways glances. Natalie’s pulse still thundered in her ears, her skin burning with humiliation.
She gathered her things, ready to escape, when Alexander passed close enough for only her to hear.
“You think you’re dangerous, Natalie?” he murmured, his breath cold against her ear. “You’ve only been playing the tutorial.”
And then he was gone, leaving behind the faint trace of expensive cologne and the unmistakable promise of war.
Outside the conference room, Natalie stumbled into the hallway, her mind spinning. She had expected a battle. She hadn’t expected him to seize control of the narrative so quickly.
If the world already saw her as a spy, how could she prove otherwise?
She leaned against the cool marble wall, steadying her breath. And that’s when she felt it Liam’s presence beside her.
“You shouldn’t have come here today,” he said quietly, his tone clipped.
Her head snapped toward him. “You knew, didn’t you?”
His jaw flexed. He didn’t answer.
“Tell me you didn’t know,” she pressed, her voice breaking.
Finally, his eyes met hers stormy, conflicted, unreadable. “This isn’t the time, Natalie.”
“No,” she said, her anger igniting through the fear. “It’s exactly the time. Because your cousin just painted a target on my back, and you sat there like a statue.”
Something flickered across his expression- pain? Regret? She couldn’t tell. He stepped closer, his voice low enough for only her.
“You have no idea how dangerous Alexander really is.”
She almost laughed, bitter and sharp. “And you do?”
His silence was answer enough.
She shoved past him, fury propelling her forward. But his hand caught her wrist, gentle but unyielding.
“Natalie,” he murmured, his eyes burning into hers. “If you keep pushing this, you won’t just lose your career. You’ll lose everything.”
Her breath hitched. The warning in his voice wasn’t just professional-it was personal.
But she couldn’t back down. Not now.
“I already lost everything three years ago,” she whispered, yanking her hand free. “This time, I’m not walking away.”
And she left him standing in the corridor, torn between the empire he was born into and the woman who had just declared war on it.
That night, Natalie couldn’t sleep. Her studio walls seemed to close in, the evidence she’d so carefully gathered now pulsing like a beacon of danger. Every photo, every email, every note stared back at her, daring her to take the next step.
Alexander had underestimated her once. He wouldn’t again.
And Liam? He was a complication she hadn’t planned for. His warning echoed in her head, tangled with the memory of his eyes the way they softened for just a second, even in the storm.
But softness wouldn’t save her.
She pressed her palms against the desk, her reflection staring back in the darkened laptop screen.
If Alexander Steele wanted war, then war was exactly what he would get.
Only Natalie King didn’t play by anyone else’s rules.
Not anymore.
- Writer
