16 : The Tycoon’s Retaliation
392 Words
The next morning, Stone Tower’s offices buzzed with an energy Amelia had never felt before. Executives hurried in and out of conference rooms, phones rang off the hook, and assistants whispered nervously in the corridors.
At the center of it all stood Alexander—calm, collected, and deadly.
Amelia had followed him to work that day, refusing to stay hidden in the penthouse while Clara’s shadow still loomed over them. She watched from the corner of his office as he gave sharp instructions to his legal team.
“I want every contract Clara Whitmore has touched in the last two years,” he commanded. “Every supplier, every investor, every partner. If she has skeletons in her closet—and she does—I’ll find them.”
His team scattered at once. Amelia stepped forward, her brow furrowed. “You’re going after her business?”
Alexander turned to her, his eyes hard, unyielding. “She thought she could ruin my wife’s name and walk away untouched. I won’t allow it.”
The way he said my wife made Amelia’s pulse quicken. Not cold, not calculated—possessive, protective.
“But won’t this escalate things?” she asked carefully.
His mouth curved into a humorless smile. “Amelia, this isn’t escalation. This is war. And in war, you don’t defend—you destroy.”
⸻
By noon, the storm had begun. A news outlet broke a story: Clara Whitmore’s foundation had misused donor funds. An hour later, leaked documents exposed her company’s backroom deals. Investors began pulling out, one by one, leaving her empire cracking at the edges.
Amelia watched it unfold with wide eyes. “You did this in a matter of hours.”
Alexander poured himself a glass of water, his expression unreadable. “Clara forgot who she was playing against.” His gaze shifted to Amelia then, softer, almost vulnerable. “She underestimated you, too.”
Her chest tightened. “Why me?”
He set the glass down and stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “Because you refused to bow. You fought back. And that… changed everything.”
Amelia’s breath caught as his hand brushed against her arm, deliberate this time, lingering.
For the first time, Alexander Stone wasn’t just the cold tycoon. He was a man who had chosen to fight—not for an empire, but for her.
- Writer
