Orion's POV

The moment Ava walked out, the room felt like it had lost all oxygen. Chloe's nails dug into my arm. I almost winced but kept my gaze on the doorway where Ava had vanished, her scent—sharp, luxurious, with a hint of jasmine—still lingering.

"What now?" Chloe’s voice, tight and venomous, snapped me back.

My mind raced, replaying Ava’s words. The lawyer... the fortune... charity. This wasn’t in the plan. We’d meticulously orchestrated her downfall, using every bit of her vulnerability to manipulate her. She was supposed to crumble, not come back stronger—this wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

"She’s bluffing," I said, more to convince myself than Chloe. But deep down, I knew Ava had a weapon we hadn’t anticipated: resolve.

Chloe stepped back, pacing, her hands in her hair, tugging at the knots. "Bluffing? Orion, did she look like she was bluffing? She made the call. She’s got control of everything."

The realization crept up like ice water. If Ava had set her terms in place with the lawyer, our plan was hanging by a thread. I tried to suppress the rising panic and the memory of her eyes, clear and sharp, cutting through the morning light.

Chloe paused in her pacing, her eyes alight with an idea—one that I knew meant trouble. "If she’s going to play this game, we need leverage. We need something she cares about. Something she won’t see coming."

The faint scent of coffee turned bitter in my mouth. "Careful, Chloe," I warned. "We’re already deep."

She stepped closer, her face inches from mine. "We can’t let her win, Orion. Do you understand? Everything we’ve done—it’s all for nothing if she walks away. We need to crush her before she even takes another breath."

I nodded, but my mind was far away. Ava was unpredictable now, and whatever control I thought I had was slipping fast. Chloe’s desperation was just another reminder of how far we’d fallen—and how much further we had to go.

I watched, part of me detaching as Chloe spiraled deeper into schemes. My phone buzzed—it was my mother. She wanted answers. Updates. Assurance that Ava was nearing her end.

“Soon,” I texted back. It was a lie, but it was what she needed to hear. I shoved the phone aside, barely resisting the urge to smash it.

The shrill ring of my phone pierced through the air again, startling both me and Chloe. My teeth clenched. I knew who it was—my mother, calling to breathe fire down my neck and demand progress.

Rage was already boiling, I snatched up the phone and barked, "I said soon, damn it!"

A beat of silence followed, then came a familiar voice. Calm, composed. "Good morning to you too, Mr. Miller."

"Pete." I exhaled heavily, closing my eyes. Of course, it was Pete. In all the chaos with Ava, I’d all but forgotten I even had a company to run. "Sorry. I thought you were... someone else."

"I figured." Pete’s tone was clipped, professional, but with a hint of understanding. "I wouldn't have called unless it was urgent."

"Go on," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. D’ Orion’s Estates, my pride and joy—once a source of ambition, now a barely flickering thought at the back of my mind.

Pete had been holding the fort while I chased shadows and schemes with Chloe.

"We have a problem, sir," Pete said. "One of our largest developments—the Crescent Heights project—is facing a major hold-up. The city’s council rejected the permit due to environmental concerns. There’s also backlash from a community group, and the media's starting to pick it up. We need you here to lead this before it spirals."

The room felt like it was closing in. Just what I needed—public outcry and bureaucratic roadblocks on top of everything else. "Fine," I said, biting back my frustration. "I'll be in shortly."

"Thank you," Pete replied. "I'll have the team prepared for a briefing."

I ended the call and tossed the phone onto the table. Chloe’s eyes were on me, curious and calculating. "Problems at work?" she asked, a touch of smugness coloring her voice.

"Just one more fire to put out," I muttered, moving toward the stairs. "I need to change."

"Hold on," Chloe said, stepping in front of me. Her arms crossed, her chin lifted defiantly. "I’m coming with you."

I shook my head, already feeling the weariness. "Not this time, Chloe. I need to focus."

She stepped closer, her voice dropping low. "You think you can shut me out now? I’ve been in this with you from the start."

I let out a slow breath, fighting the urge to snap. "This is business. The last thing I need is more eyes on us, wondering why I’m dragging you along everywhere."

"Then let them wonder," she shot back. "I’m not staying behind while you face whatever mess this is."

There was no point in arguing with Chloe when she had that look in her eyes. Reluctantly, I nodded. "Fine. Just stay quiet and follow my lead."

The drive across Los Angeles was tense, the air between us heavy with unspoken words. D’ Orion's Estates' headquarters loomed large in the heart of the city.

As we stepped into the building, familiar faces greeted me with a mix of relief and trepidation. Chloe’s presence drew glances, but no one dared to question it—yet.

Inside the conference room, the atmosphere was charged. Pete stood at the head of the table, flanked by senior team members, blueprints and reports spread out before them. His expression softened when he saw me, but his voice was all business. "Glad you made it, sir."

"Let's get to it," I said, taking my seat. Chloe positioned herself at the far end, her eyes scanning every face in the room.

Pete launched into the details—how the Crescent Heights project, a high-profile residential development, had become a target for activists concerned about local wildlife habitats. A council member’s opposition had emboldened the protestors, leading to heated coverage in the media.

"We have a short window to respond," Pete concluded. "If we can’t get this under control, we risk delays, bad press, and even a potential lawsuit."

I nodded slowly, absorbing the weight of it. "What’s our best move?"

"We need a counter-narrative," one of the PR specialists suggested. "Highlight the project's benefits—affordable housing, community investment. And, if possible, an eco-friendly initiative to offset the concerns."

"Good. But we also need to deal with the council member," I said, my voice hard. "Find out what he wants, who’s backing him. Everyone has a price or an agenda."

Chloe, despite my earlier warning, leaned forward. "And what about the protestors? Can they be... persuaded?"

A few heads turned, surprise flickering across their faces. I shot her a warning glance. "We’re handling this delicately."

The discussion continued, strategies and countermeasures flying back and forth. The urgency of the crisis, while overwhelming, gave me a grim sense of purpose—a distraction from the chaos Ava had become.

We concluded with a plan—swift outreach, strategic messaging, and a quiet meeting with the council member.

As the meeting ended, a familiar voice cut through the chatter. "Orion, good to see you back here."

I turned, and my heart sank. It was Ethan Lang, one of the board members at my father's company. How did I forget that he is one of my investors?

His sharp eyes darted to Chloe and back to me. "And this must be...?"

"Chloe," I said, keeping my voice steady, “My personal assistant.”

Damn! Pete is my personal assistant. How did I just mess up? But it seemed he didn't notice the slip up. ‘Thank God!’ I muttered.

Ethan's smile was all teeth. "Ah, Chloe. Nice to meet you." He paused, letting the tension build. "So, when's the wedding happening, Orion? You know some of the board members are starting to talk."

The words hung in the air, venom disguised as casual curiosity. Chloe's grip on my arm tightened. I forced a smile. "Soon, Mr. Ethan. Very soon."

"Good," Ethan said, his gaze lingering a moment too long. "Wouldn't want any... complications."

With that, he walked away, leaving a chill in his wake. Chloe leaned in, her voice a whisper. "We need to get ahead of this."

Of course I do. I have a wedding to plan.