Damien POV
The penthouse office of Cross Enterprises occupied the top three floors of one of the city's most exclusive towers, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a commanding view of the financial district. From my desk, I could see Sterling Tower rising like a glass monument to old money and older lies, its steel and concrete facade hiding the rot that was eating it alive from the inside.
Fitting, really. Richard Sterling had always been good at beautiful facades.
"The meeting's confirmed for three o'clock," said Sarah Martinez, my chief of staff, as she placed a stack of acquisition documents on my desk. "Conference room A at Sterling Industries. Isabella Sterling will be leading the discussion personally."
Isabella. Just her name sent a familiar jolt of electricity through my chest, part anticipation, part rage, part something darker that I didn't want to examine too closely. She'd agreed to meet with me. Either she was incredibly brave or incredibly naive.
Probably both. The Isabella I remembered had never backed down from a challenge, even when she should have.
"Has she reviewed the terms?" I asked, not looking up from the financial reports spread across my desk. Sterling Industries' books read like a tragedy in three acts, hubris, decline, and inevitable destruction.
"We sent them over an hour ago. Basic acquisition offer, eighteen percent premium over current market value. Very generous, considering their position."
Generous. The offer was anything but generous, it was designed to look reasonable while being completely unacceptable to anyone with an ounce of pride. Isabella would reject it out of hand, which would give me the excuse I needed to escalate.
"Sir?" Sarah's voice carried a note of concern. "Are you certain you want to handle this meeting personally? Given your... history with the Sterling family..."
History. Such a clean, corporate word for betrayal and heartbreak and seven years of carefully cultivated hatred.
"That's exactly why I need to handle it personally," I said, finally looking up to meet her gaze. Sarah had been with me for four years, had seen me destroy companies with the same casual efficiency most people used to order coffee. But she'd never seen me take anything personally before.
This was different. This was about more than money or market share or corporate conquest. This was about looking Isabella Sterling in the eye and watching her realize that the boy she'd claimed to love had become the man who would destroy everything she held dear.
"Pull together a full acquisition team," I continued. "I want financial analysts, legal counsel, and our best negotiators. Make it clear that Cross Enterprises is serious about this acquisition."
"Of course. And the backup plan?"
The backup plan. Phase two of my carefully orchestrated revenge, the nuclear option that would reduce Sterling Industries to ash and rubble. I'd spent years positioning the pieces, acquiring shell companies and proxy investors, building a web of corporate influence that could strangle Sterling Industries slowly or quickly, depending on my mood.
"Standby only. Today is about making an impression."
Sarah nodded and left me alone with my thoughts and the spectacular view of the city that had once felt like a prison. Seven years ago, I'd been nobody, a foster kid with brilliant ideas and no resources to execute them. Richard Sterling had offered me everything: funding, equipment, respect, and most importantly, a place in his family.
His family. Where Isabella had looked at me with those emerald eyes and made me believe I could be more than just another discarded orphan scratching for scraps.
Fool.
I stood and walked to the window, my reflection ghostlike against the glass. The man staring back bore little resemblance to the eager twenty-five-year-old who'd worshipped Richard Sterling. Seven years of success had hardened my face, carved lines of determination around my eyes, turned my lean frame into something more predatory. The expensive suit was Italian, the watch was Swiss, and the smile was pure corporate shark.
Isabella wouldn't recognize the boy she'd known. Good. That boy had been weak, trusting, vulnerable to pretty words and prettier faces. This man was armor-plated steel, immune to sentiment and focused on a single goal: total victory.
My phone buzzed with an incoming call. Marcus Chen, Sterling Industries' head legal counsel. I let it ring three times before answering, projecting the kind of casual indifference that made lawyers nervous.
"Mr. Cross? This is Marcus Chen from Sterling Industries. I wanted to discuss some details about this afternoon's meeting."
"What kind of details?" I asked, settling back into my chair.
"Security protocols, mainly. And... well, Ms. Sterling wanted me to ask about your corporate structure. She's very thorough when it comes to due diligence."
Thorough. That was the Isabella I remembered, brilliant mind wrapped in devastating beauty, never content to accept anything at face value. She'd always asked the hard questions, even as a teenager. It seemed that hadn't changed.
"Tell Ms. Sterling that Cross Enterprises is a privately held company with diversified interests in corporate acquisitions and restructuring. If she wants more specific information, she can ask me directly this afternoon."
"Of course. One more thing, she wanted me to confirm that you'll be attending personally. Not sending a representative."
There it was. The question behind the question. Did she suspect? Had she put together the pieces of who I really was, or was this just standard corporate paranoia?
"I'll be there," I said. "Cross Enterprises believes in handling important acquisitions personally."
After ending the call, I opened the bottom drawer of my desk and pulled out a folder I'd hoped never to need. Inside were photographs, surveillance shots taken over the past seven years. Isabella graduating from Harvard Business School, magna cum laude. Isabella at charity galas and board meetings, growing into her role as Sterling Industries' heir apparent. Isabella laughing with friends, looking serious in business meetings, sleeping peacefully in her apartment on nights when my surveillance teams had worked late shifts.
I'd told myself it was corporate intelligence, necessary background research on a future target. But the truth was simpler and more damaging: I'd never been able to stop watching her. Even when I hated her father, even when I'd planned his destruction, some part of me had needed to know she was safe, successful, untouchable.
Untouchable. The irony wasn't lost on me. In three hours, I would touch her life in ways she couldn't imagine, would reach into her world and tear it apart piece by piece.
The question was whether she'd fight back or surrender gracefully. Knowing Isabella, she'd fight. She'd always been fierce when cornered, and losing her father's company would corner her in ways she'd never experienced.
Let her fight. It'll make the victory sweeter.
I closed the folder and slipped it back into the drawer, but not before one photograph caught my eye. Isabella at eighteen, captured at some society function I hadn't attended. She was looking over her shoulder at something outside the frame, her expression soft and dreamy, her lips curved in the kind of smile that promised secrets.
For just a moment, I remembered what it felt like to be the recipient of that smile. To hold her attention, to matter in her world, to believe that someone like Isabella Sterling could actually love someone like me.
Then the moment passed, replaced by the familiar burn of betrayal and rage. She'd chosen her father over me. When Richard had destroyed my life, she'd said nothing, done nothing, been nothing but conspicuously absent. Whatever we'd shared had died the moment she'd decided her family's reputation mattered more than justice.
Time to remind her what that choice cost.
I buzzed Sarah back into my office. "Change of plans for the acquisition team. I want our most aggressive negotiators, the ones who specialize in hostile environments. And Sarah?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Make sure they understand that this isn't just business. Sterling Industries dies today, one way or another. The only question is whether it's quick and clean or slow and messy."
She nodded and left to make the arrangements, and I turned back to the window overlooking the city. Somewhere across town, Isabella was preparing for our meeting, probably strategizing with her board of directors about how to handle Cross Enterprises' acquisition offer.
She had no idea that her real enemy wasn't Cross Enterprises. It was the ghost of her first love, the boy she'd abandoned when things got complicated, the man who'd spent seven years becoming everything Richard Sterling had never wanted him to be.
Hello, Bella. Miss me?
In two hours, I would walk into Sterling Industries for the first time since Richard had me escorted out by security. I would sit across from Isabella at her father's boardroom table and watch her realize that the past had finally come to collect its due.
And when she looked into my eyes and saw the man I'd become, when she understood that her childhood sweetheart had transformed into her family's destroyer...
That would be the moment I finally got my revenge on Richard Sterling. Not by destroying his company, that was just business. But by breaking his daughter's heart the way he'd once broken mine.
Seven years, Bella. I hope you remember how to fight, because this is war.