CHAPTER FIVE: A Rival for the Oasis
1767 Words
Shayla Simmons
The Oasis project was the biggest opportunity of my career.
Two billion dollars. A luxury eco-resort on the Miami coastline. The chance to design something that would outlast me, that would become part of the city's skyline, that would cement my legacy as one of the most innovative architects of my generation.
And Ace Donato was trying to take it from me.
I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in my office, adjusting the collar of my white blazer. Today was the day. The city council was holding a hearing to review the final proposals for the Oasis. My design was brilliant—eco-friendly, culturally respectful, innovative in ways that would make the resort a destination rather than just another hotel.
But I knew what I was up against.
Ace had deeper pockets. He had connections. He had the weight of the Donato name behind him. And he'd already outbid me once.
I wasn't going to let him do it again.
"Ready?" Camella appeared in the doorway, my best friend and business partner. She was holding a folder, her expression determined. "I've got your presentation materials. Everything's in order."
"Ready as I'll ever be." I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and walked toward the door. "Let's go win this thing."
---
The city council chamber was packed.
Developers, architects, journalists—everyone who was anyone in the Miami real estate world had shown up to watch the showdown. I spotted Victor Vance in the front row, a smug smile on his face. He was Julian's cousin, which made things awkward, but that didn't stop him from being a complete asshole about the competition.
"Shayla." He approached me as I walked in, his hand extended. "Good luck today. You're going to need it."
"I don't need luck, Victor." I shook his hand briefly, my smile sharp. "I have talent."
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Talent is fine. But talent doesn't buy votes. And talent doesn't beat the Donato name."
"Funny." I tilted my head. "I heard you've been cozying up to the Donatos yourself. Trying to get in on their bid?"
Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or guilt. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Sure you don't." I patted his shoulder, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Just remember, Victor. I know where the bodies are buried. And I'm not afraid to dig them up."
I walked away before he could respond.
I didn't know for sure that Victor was working with the Donatos. But I'd seen him leaving their office building last week, looking furtive. And I'd heard rumors that Dominic Donato had been making quiet inquiries about the Oasis project.
I had a feeling I was about to find out the truth.
---
The hearing began at 10 AM.
Ace presented first. He was polished, professional, and utterly convincing. His proposal was good—very good. The resort he envisioned was traditional, elegant, and would undoubtedly make a lot of money. The council members nodded along, impressed.
I watched him from the audience, my expression carefully neutral. He looked every inch the billionaire heir, confident and commanding. But I saw the cracks beneath the surface—the way his hands trembled slightly when he adjusted his notes, the way his eyes kept flicking toward me.
He knew I was watching.
And he knew I was going to give him a run for his money.
"Thank you, Mr. Donato." The council chairwoman smiled. "Excellent presentation. Next up, we have Ms. Shayla Simmons."
I stood up and walked toward the podium.
---
The moment I started speaking, I knew I had them.
My design was everything theirs wasn't. I'd spent months perfecting it—studying the ecosystem, consulting with local historians, designing buildings that would blend seamlessly with the natural environment. The resort would be carbon-neutral, powered by renewable energy, and designed to preserve the coastline rather than destroy it.
"This isn't just a resort," I said, clicking through my presentation. "It's a statement. It's a commitment to the future of Miami. It's proof that we can build something beautiful without sacrificing the world we live in."
The council members leaned forward, their expressions rapt.
I was winning them over.
And then Victor stood up.
"If I may," he said, his voice oily. "I have a few questions for Ms. Simmons."
I suppressed a sigh. "Of course, Victor."
"Your proposal is impressive," he said, his smile sharp. "But I can't help but wonder about your background. You grew up in foster care, didn't you?"
The room went silent. I felt my face flush, but I kept my expression steady. "Yes. What's your point?"
"My point is," he continued, "someone with your... humble beginnings... might not have the experience necessary to manage a project of this scale. It's a legitimate concern, don't you think?"
My hands clenched beneath the podium. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him exactly what I thought of his "legitimate concern."
Instead, I smiled. "My background, Victor, is exactly what makes me qualified for this job. I know what it's like to have nothing. I know how to build something from scratch. And I know that when I'm given an opportunity, I don't waste it."
The council members nodded approvingly. Victor's face flushed.
"I think we've heard enough," the chairwoman said. "We'll recess to deliberate. Expect our decision within the week."
I gathered my materials and walked out, my heart pounding.
I'd won this round.
But I had a feeling the war was just beginning.
---
Ace Donato
I caught up with her in the parking lot.
"Shayla, wait!"
She turned, her expression wary. "What do you want, Ace?"
"To tell you that you were brilliant in there." I walked toward her, keeping my hands visible. "Your design is incredible. You should be proud."
"Thanks." Her voice was flat. "I don't need your validation."
"I know you don't." I stopped a few feet away. "But I wanted to warn you about something."
Her eyes narrowed. "Warn me?"
"Victor Vance." I kept my voice low. "He's working with my father. I don't know what their plan is, but I know it's not good. You need to be careful."
She was silent for a moment, studying me. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I don't want you to get hurt." I met her eyes. "I know you don't trust me. You have no reason to. But this is real. My father is dangerous, Shayla. And if Victor is involved, you're in more danger than you realize."
She took a step back. "I can handle myself."
"I know you can." I smiled, despite everything. "But let me help you. Please."
She looked at me for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded.
"Fine," she said. "But this doesn't mean I forgive you."
"I know." I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face. "But it's a start."
---
Shayla Simmons
I didn't know what to think.
Ace had warned me about Victor. He'd offered to help me. He'd looked at me with those eyes that made me forget how to breathe.
And I'd said yes.
I was in so much trouble.
I got into my car and sat there for a moment, my hands on the steering wheel. My phone buzzed—a text from Julian.
Julian: How did it go?
I stared at the screen. I should tell him about Victor. I should tell him about Ace. I should be honest, open, the way a good fiancée should be.
But I wasn't a good fiancée. I was a woman who was still in love with a man who'd broken her heart.
I typed back: It went well. I'll tell you about it tonight.
Then I put down my phone, started the engine, and drove home.
---
Julian Vance
She was lying to me.
I knew it the moment she walked through the door. There was something different about her—a lightness in her step, a glow in her eyes. She looked happy.
And that scared me.
"Hey," she said, setting down her bag. "I'm sorry I'm late. The hearing ran long."
"I saw the news coverage." I kept my voice neutral. "You were amazing."
"Thanks." She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I think I actually have a shot."
"That's great." I walked toward her, took her hands. "I'm proud of you."
She squeezed my fingers. "Thank you."
I hesitated. I didn't want to ruin the moment. But I had to know.
"Shayla," I said carefully, "is there something you want to tell me?"
She froze. "What do you mean?"
"I mean..." I took a breath. "I know you saw him today. I know he was at the hearing. I know you talked to him."
Her face paled. "Julian..."
"I'm not angry," I said quickly. "I'm just... I need to know where we stand. I need to know if there's still a place for me in your life."
She was silent for a long moment. Then, softly: "I don't know."
The words hit me like a physical blow.
"I see." I released her hands and stepped back. "I think I need some time. To think."
"Julian—"
"I'm not leaving you," I said. "I just need to figure out what I want. And I need you to do the same."
I walked away before she could respond.
---
Shayla Simmons
I stood in the middle of the living room, alone, the silence pressing in on me.
I'd hurt Julian. I'd hurt him badly. And the worst part was, I wasn't sure I could fix it.
Because I wasn't sure I wanted to.
I loved Julian. I did. He was kind, and good, and he'd never hurt me.
But he wasn't Ace.
And I didn't know if that was a bad thing.
I picked up my phone and stared at the screen. Ace's number was still there, right at the top of my recent calls.
I should delete it.
I should throw my phone across the room and pretend none of this was happening.
Instead, I typed out a message:
Shayla: Thank you for the warning. About Victor. I'll be careful.
I hit send before I could change my mind.
A few moments later, the reply came:
Ace: Anytime. I mean it, Shayla. I'm here for you. Whatever you need.
I stared at the screen.
Then I put down my phone, lay back on the couch, and closed my eyes.
I was in so much trouble.
- Writer
