When Curtains Rise
1059 Words
The chandeliers cast golden light across the marbled floors as polished staff arranged crystalware with obsessive precision. Every corner of the Straton mansion was aglow, wrapped in velvet drapes and silent pressure.
Davina stood before her full-length mirror, adjusting the high neckline of her deep wine-red dress. The silk clung like a second skin, severe, elegant, unyielding. Like her.
Her lips, glossed in a muted cherry tone, pressed into a flat line. She didn’t dress to impress. She dressed to dominate.
A soft knock.
Maria’s voice drifted in. “Ma’am, the first set of guests have arrived. Your father asked if you’d be joining him soon.”
Davina didn’t answer. She slid her feet into pointed heels and took one last glance at herself. Perfect. Controlled. Impossibly distant.
By the time she entered the hall, the air was already thick with perfume, quiet ambition, and well-rehearsed laughter. Men turned. Women whispered. She heard none of it.
Her father beamed as she approached. “Ah, Davina, look at you. Every inch the future.”
She offered a faint smile, sharp as glass. “Of course.”
Her mother reached for a hug, Davina leaned in politely, barely touching. Melissa squealed something about her dress. Davina offered a nod in reply and moved on.
She did her rounds like a chess player shaking hands, collecting names, offering thin, strategic smiles. No wasted words. No interest in small talk.
Then she saw him.
Standing by the far end of the room, sipping champagne like he owned the place, was a man she didn’t recognize. Dark tailored suit, black tie, relaxed posture, and eyes too observant to be casual.
He noticed her watching and boldly approached.
“Miss Straton,” he said smoothly, offering a hand. “Adrian Leclair.”
She didn’t take the hand. “I wasn’t aware you were on the guest list.”
“I’m sure someone in your PR department forgot to update you. I’m here on behalf of Leclair Dynamics. We’ve submitted a proposal to partner with your firm on the biotech wing your father’s been quietly building.”
Davina raised a brow. “Confident move approaching the heir directly.”
Adrian smiled. “Calculated, not confident. I prefer to speak with decision-makers, not their shadows.”
That earned him a tiny, involuntary smirk.
She stepped closer. “And what makes you think I’m interested in partnerships, Mr. Leclair?”
“Because your company’s tech division is bleeding money,” he said quietly. “And my proposal could fix that in eighteen months. I have a copy of it with me now.”
He held up a sleek black envelope.
Davina’s eyes scanned him coolly. “I don’t do business at cocktail parties.”
“Then I’ll consider this a conversation starter.”
Before she could reply, the microphone crackled to life. Her father was standing at the center of the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced proudly, “tonight we celebrate not only growth, but the next chapter of the Straton legacy. Please welcome my daughter, Davina Straton,the new CEO of Straton Enterprises.”
Applause followed. Davina didn’t move right away. She stared at the crowd, then back at Adrian who was watching her like a puzzle.
She took the envelope.
Then she walked toward the spotlight.
The applause was still echoing when Davina reached the mic. Her fingers grazed its stem, and for a second, silence stretched, not awkward, but commanding.
“I won’t bore you with clichés about legacy or vision,” she began, voice calm, deliberate. “Straton Enterprises has always stood for power. Precision. Purpose. That won’t change. What will change is the pace at which we move and the industries we dominate.”
A few guests exchanged looks.
“We’ve been safe for too long. Comfortable. And that ends now.”
No smile. No soft finish. Just a nod, and she stepped away as the applause resumed hesitant at first, then full.
Her father looked stunned, but proud. Her mother beamed. Melissa clapped like it was a concert.
Davina didn’t wait for their reactions. She walked off the stage and returned to the far end of the room where Adrian had stationed himself like a shadow.
“You’re not subtle,” she said, handing him a glass of untouched wine from a passing tray.
“I wasn’t trying to be.” He accepted it with a slight nod. “But you... you were impressive.”
Davina arched a brow. “I didn’t ask for your review.”
He sipped the wine. “I gave it anyway.”
She reached into her clutch and pulled out the black envelope he’d handed her earlier. “I’ll read this. If it’s good, you’ll hear from me.”
“And if it’s not?”
“I don’t believe in second meetings.”
Adrian tilted his head, amused. “Then I’ll make sure it’s good.”
Just then, Garrett appeared behind her. “Davina, Uncle says someone from the Ministry wants to meet you.”
She turned halfway. “Let them wait.”
Garrett blinked, then shrugged and walked off.
Davina looked back at Adrian. “Enjoy your evening.”
He gave a slight bow. “Always do.”
She walked away with the envelope in hand and a strange pull in her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was interest… or caution.
---
Later that Night...
The house was quiet. The noise, the guests, the champagne-fueled laughter all gone. She sat in her study, heels off, makeup wiped. Just Davina. Alone.
She opened the envelope.
A single USB drive. No documents. No flashy branding.
Plugging it into her laptop, a single folder opened: “Leclair Dynamics: Project Alethea.”
Inside were blueprints. Prototypes. A full pipeline for a biotech AI product she hadn’t seen anywhere before, one that could streamline surgical procedures across underfunded hospitals. Low-cost, high-impact. Clean code. She recognized the innovation immediately.
But something else caught her attention. A sub-folder. Hidden, encrypted.
She clicked it, and the system asked for a password.
She frowned.
Then her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: Try “Valeria.”
Her blood chilled.
That name meant nothing to anyone here. It was her birth mother’s name.
A name buried deep in documents no one should have access to.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
How did Adrian know?
- Writer
