bChapter /bb227 /b

    ADRIAN’S POV

    The city skyline glimmered beyond the tall ss walls of the Midtown Convention Center. Sunlight spilled into the grand lobby, catching the floors and the gold ents of the chandelier that hung like a crown over the main hall, I’d been to enough business conferences to know that these events weren’t just aboutworking or exchanging pleasantries, they were battlefields in tailored suits. Deals were struck, alliances formed, and rivals… Well, rivals sharpened their knives in in sight.

    And this whole situation was really iconic, if it were left for me I wouldn’t even be here, but James just had to force me out of myfort zone, because I assured him I’ll resume this.

    Yesterday I found out that Olivia was still alive, and she’s now a CEO, which was the most shocking thing I’d experienced in over a decade.

    I thought about different ways to reach across to her but her number wasn’t just lying around, and even if I were to get her email, I saw it myself, who she’s in a rtionship with, she’s probably married to the guy and a married woman wouldn’t just be answering random emails .from her ex.

    So just like nned we decided to wait till her next ceremony which was in a few days, then I’ll be able to talk to her face to face, know what went down the night Julian’s house exploded

    And apologize for everything I did to her in the past.

    But for now, I had other things to worry about, literally if I knew this scumbag would be attending this meeting too I wouldn’t have bothereding, I didn’t want to see his face from the moment I found out he was back in town, heck I didn’t even wanna be around him.

    It’s been five days since I heard that Marcus Beaumont had returned to New York. Five days. Enough time for the city to whisper his name into my ear at every corner, enough time for the business press to ster his smug face on their headlines: Marcus Beaumont returns to reim his empire. And enough time for me to brace myself for what I knew was inevitable – that sooner orter, we’d meet again.

    I moved through the crowd, past investors, CEOs, and the fresh–faced hopefuls who still thought a conference badge could change their fortunes overnight. Every handshake, every polite smile felt automatic. My mind wasn’t on them. It was on the name that had been living rent–free in my head since I arrived here.

    The asshole went ahead and told the press about my arrest, he dug up something I buried, and he did that knowing fully well how it would affect mypany.

    .The conference organizers had gathered us all under this roof. Westwood Enterprises had a booth on the far side of the hall, sleek,

    minimalist, just the way I wanted my brand represented. I stopped there briefly, exchanging a few words with my team, but my eyes kept scanning the crowd like a man waiting for an ambush.

    My team would have handled this without me being here.

    I let out a small sigh

    I sighted him before he saw me

    Marcus Beaumont was exactly as I remembered him – tallb, /bconfident, and wearing that insufferable half–smile that always seemed to say he was already three moves ahead. His suit was charcoal, perfectly tailored, the kind of outfit that screamed old money and effortless arrogance. He was surrounded by a cluster of people – two young associates scribbling notes, a woman in a blood–red dress holding his phone, and a pair of potential investors who hung on his every word.

    For a moment, I just stood there, watching him work the room. Five years ago, we had been allies – not friends, but close enough to share

    drinks after meetings, to trade favors when our interests aligned. That was before he tried to gut one of mypanies from the inside, before the court battles, before the media wars. Before the trust turned to poison.

    b54/bb% /b

    He finally noticed me.

    His gaze flicked in my direction, and the smile on his face changed. It didn’t falter Marcus would never give me the satisfaction of seeing him unsettled but it sharpened, the way a predator’s expression changes when it spots prey.

    “Well, if it isn’t Adrian Westwood,” he said, his voice carrying over the low murmur of the crowd. He broke away from his entourage band /bstarted toward me, his movements deliberate. “I was wondering how long it would take before we crossed paths.”

    “Five days.” I said evenly, as he came to a stop a few feet away. “That’s how long you’ve been in town, right? I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

    He chuckled, the sound as smooth as it was calcted. “Avoiding you? Adrian, I just thought I’d give you time to prepare yourself. You know… get your affairs in order.”

    I stepped closer, closing the gap between us. “My affairs are fine, Marcus. But I hear you’ve been busy. Stealing clients, spreading rumors- some things never change.”

    He tilted his head slightly, as if amused. “Rumors? No, no, no. I prefer the term strategic truths. And if some of your clients decided they’d be better off with me, well…” He shrugged. “That’s just business.”

    I could feel the heat rising in my chest. “Business? You leaked confidential documents. You tried to bury my name in the dirt.”

    His eyes narrowed, just a fraction. “I didn’t have to bury it, Adrian. You’ve been digging your own grave for years. I just handed you bthe /bshovel.”

    I clenched my jaw, my fists tightening at my sides. Around us, people had started to notice. Conversations stalled. A few heads turned. The air between us was so charged it might as well have been crackling.

    “You came back to New York to finish what you started,” I said, my voice low.

    “Finish?” His smirk widened. “No, Adrian. I came back to win. And in case you haven’t noticed…” He gestured around the room. “The tide is already turning.”

    I followed his hand. It was subtle, but I saw it – a few familiar faces, people I’d once considered solid allies, were now standing closer to him than to me. Whispers carried across the room like smoke. Marcus wasn’t just back, he was making moves fast.

    “You’ve got five days‘ worth of momentum,” I said. “Enjoy it while itsts. Because I promise you – the next headline with your name on it won’t be about aeback. It’ll be about your downfall.”

    Marcus leaned in, close enough that only I could hear him. “Careful, Adrian. Threats sound a lot like desperation.”

    I met his gaze without flinching. “It’s not desperation. It’s a guarantee.”

    We stood there for a moment, two statues carved from equal parts pride and spite. Then he stepped backb, /bthat same infuriating smirk still in

    ce.

    “I’ll see you around,” he said, turning to rejoin his group.

    “You will,” I replied, watching him walk away.“Sooner than iyou /ithink.”

    The crowd began to move again, the moment dissolving back into the hum of the conference. But my blood was still running hot. Marcus Beaumont was back in New York, and the war had officially begun.