Big Girls Cry - Sia; Just A Lil Bit - 50 Cents
Diane didn't sit. She didn't breathe. She moved.
Her office buzzed with a heightened, electric tension as she stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, firing message after message across Dalton Industries' internal channels. The entire executive floor felt her presence like a shifting weather system.
"Forward projected losses to my private line," she typed sharply to Finance.
"Restructure the PR strategy. Effective immediately. No comments to the press without my approval." Sent to Communications.
"Legal, review every contract Black Corporation touched in the last quarter. Flag vulnerabilities." Sent to Legal.
Her tone was clipped, cold, mechanical. Not unfeeling, just untouchable.
Her phone vibrated again.
A message from Rina, an executive coordinator: Jeffrey showed up earlier. Security escorted him out, but he was… unstable.
Diane paused only long enough to inhale, steady and controlled.
Then she typed, "Noted. Double security on all board-level floors. Do it quietly."
Done.
She straightened her blazer, smoothing the lapels. Her reflection in the darkened window looked like a stranger, harder, calmer, lethal in a way she had never allowed herself to be.
Diane Dalton was not someone's scapegoat.
Not today.
Not anymore.
---
Across the city, the Black penthouse was a battlefield.
Jeffrey stood in the center of the living room, his hair disheveled, his eyes bloodshot, like a man who had been awake for far too long and yet not long enough to escape his thoughts.
"You embarrassed this family," his father's voice thundered, echoing across marble floors. "Do you understand that? Investors are calling us directly. DIRECTLY!"
Jeffrey's jaw clenched. "I'm handling it."
His mother scoffed from the sofa, her voice icy. "By firing staff? By drinking yourself stupid? That girl...."
"Don't call her a girl," Jeffrey bit out. "Diane is...."
"....irrelevant," his mother snapped. "You made her irrelevant. And now you expect sympathy because she's proving she doesn't need you?"
His youngest brother, Evan, touched Jeffrey's shoulder gently. "Jeff… you need to breathe, man. You're spiraling."
"Don't touch me." Jeffrey shrugged him off with a violent jerk.
His other brother, Mark, lifted both hands in surrender. "Look, we get it. You messed up. But we can fix this. Just stop making it worse."
Jeffrey laughed, a broken, humorless sound. "They compared me to her. In my own boardroom. Diane this. Diane that. 'Diane would have handled this better.'" His voice cracked. "She was supposed to be mine."
His father's face hardened. "She was never yours to begin with. She made that abundantly clear."
Jeffrey grabbed the nearest vase and launched it across the room; it shattered against the wall, shards scattering like falling stars.
His mother gasped.
His brothers exchanged worried glances.
His father exhaled deeply, exhausted.
Jeffrey didn't see them.
Didn't hear them.
Didn't care.
His mind was a single burning point: Diane rising while he fell.
And the image of Alexander by her side was gasoline.
---
Alexander's office was quiet, dangerously quiet.
He stood behind his desk, reviewing documents when his assistant, Mirander, entered with a tight expression.
"Sir, there's something you need to know," she began.
Alexander looked up slowly. "Tell me."
Mira clasped her tablet, hesitating. "Jeffrey Black showed up at Ms. Dalton's office this morning. He shouted at staff. Security escorted him out, but he resisted. It was… loud."
Alexander's face turned unreadable.
Not angry.
Not shocked.
Just a stillness so absolute it made the room colder.
"Has anyone from Dalton reported concerns?" he asked.
"Yes," Mira replied. "Discreetly. They're worried he might return."
Alexander nodded once. A simple, precise tilt of the head.
Then his voice, calm but with a razor edge:
"Reinforce Diane's security detail. Two-person rotation. No uniforms. Full surveillance around exits and elevators. If Jeffrey steps foot within fifty meters of her floor, I want to know before he breathes."
Mira swallowed. "Understood."
She handed him a black folder, thick, sealed.
"And this," she said, "is the information you requested on Jeffrey's recent movements. Financial, personal, digital. Everything."
Alexander took the folder but didn't open it yet.
His gaze drifted to the skyline outside his window: sharp, glittering, indifferent.
"Prepare the car," he said quietly. "I'm going to Dalton."
Mira blinked. "Sir? Do you think it's necessary?"
Alexander closed the folder, his fingers tightening around it.
"Jeffrey Black is unraveling," he said. "Men like him only become dangerous when they realize they've already lost."
---
Dalton Industries; Diane's floor
Her staff fell silent as the elevator doors opened.
Not because they were afraid.
Not because they were curious.
But because the energy that walked out was unmistakably powerful.
Alexander.
His presence was controlled force, tailored suit, steady stride, a focus sharp enough to cut glass. He didn't pause to greet anyone; his eyes were locked on Diane's door from the moment he stepped out.
Mirander had clearly alerted reception, no one tried to stop him.
Diane's assistant stood abruptly. "Mr. Alexander...."
He raised a hand. Not dismissive. Just firm. "I'm here for Diane."
Inside, Diane was standing over her desk, reviewing a contract when she sensed the shift in atmosphere. She looked up as the door opened.
Alexander entered.
Quiet. Controlled.
Storm in a suit.
Her brows lifted, surprised but composed. "You didn't tell me you were coming."
"I didn't plan to," he replied.
She straightened, crossing her arms lightly. "Is something wrong?"
Alexander studied her for a long moment. Not emotionally. Strategically.
"Jeffrey came here," he said, voice low. "And he'll come again. He's spiraling. I'm not letting him turn that chaos on you."
Diane's jaw tightened, but she didn't flinch. "I can handle Jeffrey."
"I know," Alexander said softly. "But you shouldn't have to."
The room went silent.
Not romantic.
Not tender.
Just two people standing in the sharp tension between crisis and control.
Then Diane exhaled, not in fear, but in acceptance of a new reality.
"Alright," she said quietly. "Tell me what you know."
Alexander set the folder on her desk.
"Everything," he replied. "And it's worse than we thought."
Their eyes met.
The storm had arrived.
And the war between them and Jeffrey had officially begun.
---