With trembling fingers, I unlocked my phone and swipe through the notifications—emails, text messages, incoming calls—all demanding my attention. As the messages sank in, a slow, triumphant, yet malevolent smile spread across my face.

The shareholder meeting had been abruptly canceled. Not just that—reports were coming in of "freak accidents" crippling productivity at three different mining operations. A crisis had been manufactured, and Steel Conglomerate was now scrambling to get a handle on the chaos.

I laughed aloud, giddy satisfaction coursing through me. Amidst the chaos of my buzzing phone, a few messages stood out. The first was from Tessa: 'Rushing back from Paris. Daddy is beyond pissed 🤣 #ProudSis'

My grin widened at her bratty exuberance. If her father's irritation was any indication, Drago had certainly held up his end of the bargain. The next message was from Allistair:

'Missing you. Handling ongoing crisis, but will see you when the dust settles. Get some rest while you can...the real storm is coming. Love you, my heart.'

I knew exactly what he meant. With the initial disruption unleashed, it was time for us to swoop in and "help" manage the fallout, asserting our position as well-deserving heirs—all according to plan. My heart swelled at his understated declaration of love.

Before I could respond, another message froze me in my tracks. It was from Drago himself: 'Your turn, Ms. Steelman.' A cold shiver ran down my spine. Those four simple words were equal parts threat and challenge, laced with a very dark promise. He was indeed a formidable ally...and frenemy. A reminder that I would need to tread with the precision of a neurosurgeon.

Just then, an incoming call flashed across my screen—from the moment this plan was set in motion, I knew this clash would come inevitably. The display bore a name I'd been dreading: Daddy.

I hesitated, steeling myself as I accepted the call. "Yes, Father?" I answered evenly, keeping any trace of satisfaction from my voice.

There was a loaded pause before his gruff tones came through, clipped with barely contained irritation. "You've seen the reports, I take it?"

"I have. The mining sites in Chile, South Africa, and Queensland, if I'm not mistaken," I replied calmly. "A most...inopportune series of events, wouldn't you agree?"

A mirthless chuckle sounded. "You think I can't see exactly what this is, Tahlia? Your fingerprints are all over this. Whatever game you and that idiot son of Bill are playing, I will shut it down. You foolish, arrogant child—did you think I wouldn't be prepared for whatever stunts you tried to pull?"

My jaw clenched at his condescending venom, but I refused to rise to the bait. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Father. This crisis appears to be an unfortunate convergence of factors outside our control. Surely the prudent course of action is to focus all efforts on rectifying the situation?"

"Don't play coy with me, girl," he practically spat. "I taught you everything you know about strategy and deception. You're not creating enough smoke to hide this blazing fire from my sight."

I fought to keep my tone measured and even. "With all due respect, the only priority right now should be mitigating these incidents and getting all systems back online. I'm sure the causes will be uncovered in due course."

There was a long, tense silence. Finally, Father spoke again in a lower, more controlled register. "You're right about one thing—my focus needs to be on damage control for now. But mark my words...when the dust clears on this debacle, you and I will be having a very serious reckoning."

The line went dead, leaving me staring at the silent phone. I exhaled a shaky breath, adrenaline still thrumming through me from the heated exchange. I smiled grimly, my pulse kicking up again at the thrill of the hunt, the intricate chess game we were playing. There was no going back now—not when we'd already sacrificed so many pawns to control this particular field of engagement.

I quickly typed back to Allistair: 'I will, my love. Consider this the first move. I'll be ready to join the fray whenever you need me to make our next move...'

The next two weeks were a complete whirlwind as I found myself practically living at SteelCo headquarters, arriving before sunrise and rarely leaving until late hours, doing damage control on this deepening corporate crisis.

Each morning began with a gauntlet of paparazzi and reporters camped outside the building's entrance, hungering for any scrap of a quote about the unfolding debacle. Flashbulbs would explode in my face as I hurried past, head down, refusing to dignify their rabid questions with so much as a glance.

Once inside the opulent lobby, it was plunging straight into outright pandemonium. Assistants and analysts scrambled every which way, clutching files and barking into headsets. Entire departments seemed gridlocked as the delays from our crippled mining operations spiraled into a supply chain nightmare.

My father's solution was to bark orders from his insulated corner office to restore the mines to full capacity as soon as humanly possible. But the issues ran so extraordinarily deep, like an intricate game of cyber-sabotage Jenga that Drago had expertly constructed.

Of course, Father also refused to publicly acknowledge the brilliance behind these "freak incidents,". To admit we'd been outmaneuvered would damage his ego, badly. Naturally the Board split between those denying the problem and those criticizing his leadership.

Caught in the crosshairs, I worked every angle I could to at least try salvaging our public reputation, if not our literal operational capacity. That meant marshaling an aggressive PR campaign of candid interviews, donations, and advertising blitzes—anything to keep our dwindling share prices from going into complete freefall based on this never-ending stream of bad press.

That evening, I had a dinner scheduled with Professor Hahn and Rosemary. I arrived at the fancy but cozy restaurant on Main Street. The soft glow of candlelight cast an intimate ambiance over the upscale dining area.

Professor Hahn was already seated at a table near the back, his dark eyes glinting with intrigue as they met mine. Beside him sat Rosemary, her demeanor timid yet expectant, her fingers fidgeting nervously with the linen napkin in her lap.

"Miss Steelman, lovely of you to join us," Professor Hahn greeted smoothly as I took my seat across from them. His penetrating gaze lingered perhaps a moment too long.

"Thank you for coming, Miss Steelman," Rosemary said, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude.

I acknowledged her with a nod and a gentle smile. "It's a pleasure to have you join us. Please call me Tahlia. We're colleagues, after all."

She blushed furiously. Despite our rocky start, there was something inherently earnest about her that I found difficult to dismiss entirely.

"As I'm sure Professor Hahn has already informed you, we're here to discuss the next steps for the hospital expansion project," I continued, turning my attention to the man seated across from me. "I've been preparing to host an inauguration ball to commemorate the occasion."

They both nodded. "I thought it made sense to discuss the inauguration plans together." I pulled out the event file, focusing on distributing the agenda. "Rosemary, I'm envisioning you taking a central role in showcasing the new psychiatric wing."

Rosemary's eyes widened with a mix of gratitude and trepidation. "Oh, I...of course. I'll give it my full effort."

My heart warmed at the genuine excitement in Rosemary's voice. I smiled at her reassuringly. "I trust you will."

Professor Hahn murmured in that low, rumbly timbre of his. "I have the utmost faith in Rosemary's capabilities when...properly guided."

I inclined my head graciously, masking the flicker of unease that flared within me. There was something unnerving about the way his gaze lingered on me, as though he could unravel the intricacies of my mind with nothing more than a passing glance. It was both infuriating and alluring at the same time.

I fought the urge to fidget, forcing my expression to remain impassive. "I'm glad we're all aligned then. This is a critical opportunity to generate interest and funding."

The slightest of smirks played across Hahn's lips. "You can count on us to put on quite the...compelling showcase, Miss Steelman."

A flush crept up my neck at the undeniable innuendo saturating his tone. Rosemary seemed oblivious, but I couldn't ignore the heated undercurrents cascading between Hahn and myself. What game was he playing at exactly?

The rest of the dinner passed with polite but strained conversation as I carefully avoided encouraging any more of Hahn's weighted remarks or lingering stares. Halfway through, the heavens opened up, unleashing a torrent of rain that pounded against the restaurant's windows relentlessly.

Rosemary's cab arrived earlier and Professor Hahn, ever the gentleman, accompanied her to her ride, leaving me momentarily alone at the table as I paid the bill.

As I was departing, the waiter rushed over, handing me Professor Hahn's jacket that had been left behind. But as he passed it to me, a small, worn piece of paper slipped out and fluttered to the ground. I bent to retrieve it, my breath catching when I saw the name "Amalia" scrawled across it in faded ink.

"I...I'm sorry, this fell from your jacket," I stammered, startled by Hahn's sudden presence looming behind me. He reached to take the paper, his eyes briefly flashing with an unreadable emotion—a haunted, unsettling darkness that sent a shiver down my spine before vanishing like a fleeting shadow.

"It's something I carry...an old memento. I'm glad it was not lost. Thank you." His voice was low and strained, like each word pained him.

I could only nod mutely, sensing I had inadvertently unearthed something sacred, something raw and off-limits. Questions swirling in my head likes bees on a hive.

"Shall we?" He gestured towards the entrance. As we stepped outside, waiting for the valet to bring our cars, the rain was relentless, a drenching torrent.

Hahn produced a small umbrella, angling his body to shelter me from the onslaught. We stood there in charged silence, sharing the confined space under the umbrella's ineffectual cover.

Rain pounded all around us, the staccato rhythms only accentuating Hahn's deep, measured breaths fanning across my rain-damp skin. My own breathing grew unsteady as his intense regard slowly traveled over me.

Then, with casual nonchalance, he reached up and gently tucked a stray tendril of wet hair behind my ear, letting his fingertips graze my cheek briefly leaving a scorching path behind, the whisper-soft caress raising gooseflesh in its wake.

"Careful, Professor," I managed in a neutral tone that betrayed nothing of the live wire running through me. "One might get the wrong impression."

A low, rumbling chuckle escaped him as his eyes danced with amusement, openly toying with the tension crackling between us. "And what impression might that be, I wonder?"

I could feel the searing pull of his gravitatic force drawing me in as if by cosmic design, our bodies fitted together in torturous perfection under the flimsy shelter of the umbrella.

I placed a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back, creating a subtle yet undeniable separation between us. His gaze held mine, a silent acknowledgment passing between us of the tension that crackled in the air.

The valet stood by with my car, clearing his throat, jolting me back to reality. I tore myself out of Hahn's sphere of magnetic allure and stepped into the rain, leaving in haste. Only as the valet handed off my keys did I realize I was utterly drenched.

Hahn emerged slowly from under the umbrella, unreadable eyes glittering beneath the sheen of raindrops clinging to those inscrutable features. A stormy maelstrom still raged within me, one I knew I should snuff out before it consumed me entirely. I tightened my grip on the keys until the metal bit into my palm.

"Until next time, Professor," I forced out in clipped tones before turning on my heel. I refused to look back.