The Weight of Power
Prologue :
Is influence a privilege, or is it just another burden to carry?
In a world where names hold value and reputation is currency, does power ever feel light?
Or is it a never-ending performance, where every step must be poised, every word calculated, and every moment watched?
The sound of Alina Carter’s heels echoed against the pristine marble floors as she stepped out of her sleek black car, the city’s morning rush swirling behind her.
The Élan headquarters stood before her—an architectural marvel of glass and steel, towering above New York City like a declaration of dominance. Its name—ÉLAN—was emblazoned in bold, golden letters at the top of the skyscraper, visible from miles away. A beacon of fashion, wealth, and prestige.
The security at the entrance straightened as she approached. “Good morning, Miss Carter.”
She gave a small nod, her stride unwavering. The glass rotating doors glided smoothly as she stepped inside, the temperature-controlled air greeting her like a silent welcome into her empire.
“Good morning, Miss Carter.”
The receptionist’s voice was warm, almost reverent.
Her entrance commanded attention—not forced, not demanded—simply earned.
As she walked, the details of her ensemble came into focus under the pristine office lighting. A fitted, deep emerald silk blouse tucked effortlessly into tailored high-waisted black trousers, accentuating her statuesque figure. The gold accents on her belt and delicate wrist chain caught the light, adding understated opulence. Her black stilettos—custom-made, Élan’s signature design—clicked with precision against the marble.
In one hand, she held a luxurious black leather Hermès bag, in the other, a coffee cup from the city’s most exclusive café. Her nails—polished in a sharp, nude gloss—were immaculate. Every inch of her spoke of wealth, control, and undeniable influence.
As she strode toward the private elevator, employees at their workstations turned, greeting her with quiet respect. Some admired her. Some feared her. But all of them knew one thing—Alina Carter was a force.
At the elevator’s sleek, mirrored doors, a woman in sharp burgundy-framed glasses was waiting for her. “Good morning, Miss Carter.”
Juliette Monroe. Her executive secretary. Efficient. Brilliant. Unshakable.
Alina nodded as she stepped inside the elevator, Juliette falling into stride beside her.
“The team has finalized the textile selection for the winter collection,” Juliette started, walking with the same precision as her boss. “Your 11 AM with the European investors is still on track. However, I’ve been informed that Leclair & Sons are requesting to move their meeting up.”
“Cancel it.” Alina’s voice was smooth, unbothered.
Juliette blinked. “Cancel completely?”
“Yes.” Alina adjusted the sleeve of her blouse. “And reschedule my board meeting for 4 PM. I want a full update on the Élan Paris expansion before the close of business.”
“Right away, ma’am.” Juliette made a quick note before stepping aside as they reached Alina’s private office.
The doors parted, revealing the pinnacle of modern luxury.
Floor-to-ceiling glass windows framed the New York skyline, stretching far beyond the Hudson. The office was vast yet minimalist—marble surfaces, dark walnut desks, soft golden lighting reflecting off sleek black furnishings. The Élan insignia was subtly embedded into the decor, a quiet but constant reminder of the empire she had built.
Alina walked towards her massive glass desk, setting down her coffee and handbag with effortless grace. The chair behind it—a masterpiece of Italian leather—welcomed her as she finally sat, her posture never faltering.
For the first time that morning, her face fully came into view.
Sharp cheekbones. Almond-shaped, piercing hazel eyes. A mouth that could command a boardroom or send a man to his knees. Every inch of her was elegance, wrapped in the kind of power only a few could ever attain.
She exhaled slowly, reaching for the remote on her desk. With the press of a button, the massive TV screen on the far wall came to life.
A morning talk show. Her name was the headline.
“Alina Carter—A Trailblazer or the Ice Queen of Fashion?”
On-screen, a panel of experts debated her influence.
“She’s redefined the industry, no doubt. But is she an inspiration or just another untouchable figure at the top?”
“She’s proof that women can dominate the business world—”
“She’s ruthless, let’s not pretend otherwise. You don’t build an empire like Élan by playing nice.”
Alina watched for precisely three seconds before switching off the screen.
She already knew what they thought of her.
And she didn’t care.
Instead, she leaned back, her eyes drifting toward the skyline view outside her window.
The city stretched before her, endless, alive. And at its center, towering above it all, was Élan.
Her empire. Her legacy.
Her burden to carry.
