CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
731 Words
Chapter Thirty-two
The victory at the boardroom lingered like a quiet storm. Nivida’s halls buzzed with whispers of admiration, the staff replaying Briella’s firm words and calm authority as though they were a lesson in strength. She had recovered the contract, and not just for herself — but for everyone who looked to her as the face of the company.
That evening, while the city lights stretched across the skyline, another kind of storm brewed at the Tristan mansion.
Jennifer Tristan sat rigid on the velvet armchair, her wine glass untouched. The red liquid glimmered beneath the chandelier, but her eyes were darker, sharper. “She humiliated Harrison & Co in their own boardroom,” she said, her voice clipped. “Do you know what that means?”
Kendrick, leaning against the doorframe, let out a scoff. “It means she’s smarter than we gave her credit for. Again.”
Edward Tristan, who had been silent, placed his teacup gently on the table. “It also means we must change tactics. Brute force won’t work. Neither will waiting. She’s too strategic now.”
Jennifer turned her gaze on him, eyes narrowing. “So what do you suggest, Edward? That we sit and clap while she rises higher?”
Edward shook his head. “No. We infiltrate. Not her directly—she’s too guarded now. But her circle. Her alliances. Somewhere, there’s a weakness. We find it, we exploit it.”
Kendrick smirked faintly, but there was no amusement in it. “You mean Marcellus.”
Jennifer’s lips curved into a thin line. “Exactly. He’s her shield. Remove him, or turn him… and she crumbles.”
For a long moment, the room was silent except for the faint ticking of the antique clock on the wall. Then Jennifer raised her glass at last, her eyes gleaming with a cold determination. “Let her enjoy her little victories. They’ll only make the fall worse.”
—
Meanwhile, across town, Briella sat in her office long after the staff had left. The city outside was alive, but inside, the world was hushed. She leaned back in her chair, exhausted but strangely restless.
The knock came softly. She already knew who it was.
“Come in, Marcellus,” she said without lifting her head.
He stepped in, suit jacket loosened, his usually composed face holding something gentler tonight. “Still working?”
“Still thinking,” she corrected, closing the folder on her desk. “About today. About what comes next. It never ends, does it?”
Marcellus leaned against the edge of her desk, folding his arms. “No. But you handled today perfectly. I don’t think even Harrison himself saw that coming.”
Briella allowed herself a small smile. “That was business. The personal part… that’s harder.”
Her words hung in the air. Marcellus studied her, his gaze intense but quiet. Then, with a careful motion, he reached out and placed a hand over hers.
“You don’t have to carry all of it alone anymore,” he said. “Not when I’m here.”
Briella’s throat tightened. For a moment, she wanted to pull away, to keep the distance she’d carefully maintained since he returned. But the warmth of his hand grounded her, softened the edges of her turmoil.
“Marci…” she whispered, using the name only she ever did. Her eyes met his, vulnerable, searching. “I don’t know if I can trust what we were again. Or if I even should.”
He didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned closer, his voice low and steady. “Then don’t trust what we were. Trust what we are now. I came back for you, Brielle. And no boardroom victory or family threat will change that.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. Briella exhaled slowly, torn between the weight of her past and the pull of his presence. She didn’t give him an answer, but she didn’t withdraw her hand either.
Outside, the city buzzed with its usual chaos. Inside, for the first time in years, Briella allowed herself to sit in stillness beside Marcellus, not as CEO and Chairman, but as two people who had once been everything to each other — and might yet be again.
But far away, in the Tristan mansion, shadows were already sharpening their knives.
✨ End of Chapter Thirty-Two ✨
- Writer
