The Blood Between Us

The city was already awake when Amara Bennett walked into Bennett & Co., but she had been awake for hours. By seven-thirty on Monday morning, downtown was already drowning in noise. Horns blared from impatient drivers trapped between lanes, vendors shouted over one another from the sidewalks, and the glass towers that lined the business district reflected the early sunlight like they had something to prove. Amara had always liked the city at this hour. Everyone was chasing something. Money. Power. Recognition. Survival. She understood the feeling. The elevator doors opened on the twenty-second floor, and Amara stepped out. She barely made it three steps before she realized something was wrong. The executive floor was full. Not busy. Full. Her assistant, Naomi, stood beside the reception desk with a tablet pressed against her chest. Two senior managers were whispering near the conference room. The head of finance was pacing. Even the company’s legal adviser, who usually didn’t arrive before eight-thirty, was there. And every single person seemed to be waiting for her. Amara stopped. Her eyes moved slowly across the room. “What happened?” Naomi straightened. “Good morning to you too.” “Naomi.” “Nothing happened.” Amara raised an eyebrow. Naomi sighed. “Okay. Something happened.” “That’s what I thought.” She handed Amara the tablet. “They sent it this morning.” Amara looked down. She didn’t need more than three seconds. Her expression hardened. HAYES GROUP — FINAL PROPOSAL SUBMITTED. Below it was a notification from the procurement committee. Final review scheduled for Friday. Amara’s jaw tightened. Of course. Of course they had. “Who confirmed it?” she asked. “Procurement.” “And when did they submit?” “Six forty-two.” Amara checked her watch. Seven thirty-eight. “They’ve been awake since dawn just to annoy me.” Naomi gave her a look. “You say that like Adrian Hayes personally uploaded the proposal.” “He probably did.” “You have never met him.” “I’ve seen his work.” “That isn’t the same thing.” “It doesn’t need to be.” Amara handed the tablet back. “Conference room. Ten minutes.” The managers immediately started moving. Naomi followed her. “You haven’t had breakfast.” “I’ll eat after the meeting.” “You said that yesterday.” “And I ate.” “At eleven at night.” “I was still technically alive.” “Barely.” Amara smiled despite herself. Naomi had worked for her for almost three years, which meant she had earned the rare privilege of speaking to Amara like a human being instead of the company’s managing director. Most people were careful around Amara. She knew that. She didn’t particularly blame them. She had spent years building a reputation that made people hesitate before challenging her. Amara Bennett was twenty-eight years old, and she had been running Bennett & Co.’s commercial division for nearly four years. Some people thought she had been handed the position. They weren’t entirely wrong. Her last name had opened doors. It had also made every room twice as difficult to conquer. Her father had built Bennett & Co. from a small construction and property development firm into one of the country’s most respected private companies. When Amara joined the business after university, people expected her to spend a few years learning the ropes, smiling at meetings, and eventually inherit a comfortable corner office. Instead, she had spent her first year working until midnight. Her second year rebuilding a failing division. And her third year winning contracts people twice her age had spent years chasing. She had learned early that being the boss’s daughter wasn’t enough. If anything, it meant she had to be better. Much better. The conference room doors opened. Everyone took their seats. Amara walked to the head of the table and placed her phone beside her notebook. “Let’s get started.” The presentation began. Numbers appeared across the screen. Revenue projections. Construction schedules. Projected returns. Environmental impact assessments. Client expectations. Everything was familiar. Almost boring. Until the final slide. COMPETITOR: HAYES GROUP. Amara leaned back. There it was. The name she’d been expecting. “Same projected completion timeline?” she asked. “Yes.” “Same budget?” “Almost identical.” “Almost?” The finance director cleared his throat. “They came in two percent lower.” Silence. Amara stared at the screen. Two percent. It wasn’t much. But on a contract worth hundreds of millions, two percent was enough to make a difference. “Where did they cut costs?” “We don’t know yet.” “Then find out.” “We’re trying.” “Try faster.” The room went quiet. Amara looked around the table. “This contract is not going to be won because someone submitted a prettier presentation. The client wants efficiency, sustainability, and long-term value. We give them all three.” She tapped her pen against the table. “What’s our weakness?” No one answered. “I’m serious. What’s the weakest part of our proposal?” The room remained silent. Amara smiled faintly. “Exactly.” She stood. “If we can’t identify the problem ourselves, the procurement committee will do it for us.” The head of operations opened his folder. “There is one concern.” Amara looked at him. “The timeline.” “Hayes is promising completion three months earlier.” “Can we match it?” “We’d have to restructure the second phase.” “Then restructure it.” “That would increase—” “I didn’t ask whether it would be convenient.” He stopped. Amara looked around the table. “I asked whether it was possible.” He nodded slowly. “Yes.” “Good.” She sat back down. “Then make it possible.” The meeting continued for another forty minutes. By the time it ended, everyone had a list of things to fix. Amara had three. Naomi had seven. The finance department had apparently been given enough work to ruin their entire week. Amara didn’t feel bad. Not even slightly. As everyone filed out, Naomi stayed behind. “You know,” she said, “most people would take a two-percent difference as a sign that the proposal is competitive.” Amara gathered her papers. “Most people aren’t trying to win.” Naomi smiled. “There she is.” “Who?” “The woman who thinks losing is a personal insult.” Amara looked at her. “Losing is a personal insult.” Naomi laughed. “You’re impossible.” “I’ve been called worse.” “By your father?” Amara’s smile disappeared for half a second. “My father doesn’t need to call me anything.” Naomi noticed the change but didn’t press. That was another reason Amara kept her around. Naomi knew when to stop. Amara picked up her phone and walked toward the windows. The city stretched beneath her. From twenty-two floors above the street, the traffic looked almost peaceful. She watched the tiny figures moving between buildings. Everyone looked insignificant from up here. She wondered if that was why people liked being on top. It made the distance between themselves and everyone else easier to see. Her phone buzzed. A message from her father. My office. Noon. No greeting. No explanation. Typical. Amara slipped the phone into her pocket. She knew what this was about. The contract. Her father had been following the competition closely. And he had never liked Hayes Group. Not because of anything personal. At least, not that Amara knew. There had always been something about the Hayes name that made her father unusually quiet. She had noticed it over the years. Whenever the company came up in conversation, his expression changed. Barely. A tightening around his eyes. A pause. Then the subject would change. Amara had never asked. Not because she didn’t want to know. She simply had more important things to worry about. At least, that’s what she told herself. She returned to her office. Her desk was almost aggressively organized. A laptop. Two notebooks. A glass of water. A small black vase with flowers Naomi had brought in the previous Friday. And one framed photograph. Amara picked it up absentmindedly. It was a photograph of her father and herself at her university graduation. Her father was smiling. She was smiling too. It was one of the few photographs she genuinely liked. She placed it back down. Her phone buzzed again. This time, it was her mother. Dinner tonight? Amara stared at the message. She typed: Can’t. Busy. Then deleted it. She typed: Maybe next week. Deleted that too. Finally: I’ll let you know. She sent it. A second later, Naomi appeared at the door. “Your father is expecting you at noon.” “I know.” “And you have a lunch meeting at one.” “I know.” “And your dentist appointment at four.” Amara looked up. “I don’t have a dentist appointment.” Naomi blinked. “You do.” “I don’t.” “I put it on your calendar.” “Remove it.” “You’ve cancelled twice.” “Then they should be used to disappointment.” Naomi folded her arms. “You’re going.” Amara stared at her. Naomi stared back. Five seconds passed. “Fine.” “Thank you.” Naomi disappeared. Amara shook her head. Then she looked back at the city. Friday. The procurement committee would choose the winner. Bennett & Co. had been preparing for the contract for nearly a year. She had sacrificed weekends for it. Turned down dinners. Skipped vacations. Worked through migraines. She wanted the contract. Not because of the money. Not entirely. She wanted to prove something. To her father. To the board. To every person who had ever looked at her and wondered how much of her success came from her last name. And maybe, if she was being completely honest with herself, she wanted to prove it to herself too. Her phone buzzed. Naomi again. One more thing. Amara opened the message. A photograph followed. It was a screenshot of an article. HAYES GROUP CEO EXPECTED TO LEAD FINAL CONTRACT NEGOTIATIONS. Underneath was a photograph. A man in a dark suit stood outside a building, surrounded by reporters. Amara stared at the picture. She had never met him. She had never spoken to him. She had never even been in the same room as him. Yet somehow, she already disliked him. Maybe it was the confidence in his expression. Maybe it was the way he looked completely unbothered by the attention. Or maybe it was simply the fact that his company had just submitted a proposal two percent cheaper than hers. She zoomed in on the photograph. ADRIAN HAYES, 30, CEO OF HAYES GROUP. Amara scoffed. “Thirty.” She locked her phone. “Of course.” Naomi appeared at the door again. “What’s wrong with thirty?” “Nothing.” “You looked offended.” “I’m not offended.” “You’re definitely offended.” Amara picked up her files. “I’m going to my father’s office.” Naomi smiled. “Try not to destroy anyone’s career before lunch.” “No promises.” She walked out. Neither Amara nor Adrian knew the other’s name beyond a company logo and a newspaper photograph. Neither knew that Friday’s contract would be the beginning of something neither of them had planned for. Neither knew that the rivalry they were about to enter would eventually become the smallest part of their story. For now, there was only a contract. Two companies. Two ambitious directors. And one prize. Amara intended to win. She had no idea that Adrian Hayes intended to do exactly the same.