The screen in Alex's private study flickered to life one after the other.
Black squares appeared. Names followed. Voices cleared. Somewhere across continents, men in tailored suits settled into chairs they had chosen carefully, knowing they were being watched without being seen.
Alex leaned back in his chair, the room around him dim. The lights behind him were off on purpose. His face remained outside the camera's reach, a deliberate shadow.
"Good afternoon," he said calmly.
A brief pause followed. Even silence treated him with respect.
"Mr Steele," one of them said. "We appreciate you making time."
Alex did not respond to that. He never did.
Charts filled the screen. Numbers rose and dipped. Projections layered over one another, clean and precise. The Harrington Group logo hovered in the corner like a quiet invitation.
"They are restless," a voice said. "Board disagreements. Pressure from outside investors. They want stability but they want it quietly."
Alex listened. He always did. He let people talk themselves into revealing what they truly feared.
"And the competitor?" Alex asked.
Another voice answered. "Aggressive. Promising immediate payouts. No long-term assurances."
Alex's fingers tapped once against the arm of his chair. "Predatory."
No one argued.
"If they sell to him," Alex continued, "jobs disappear. Assets scatter. Markets destabilize."
A faint nod from one of the men. "Exactly."
Alex leaned forward slightly. "We will offer patience. We will offer continuity. We will not rush them."
A pause. Then, "They want to meet."
"Then I will go," Alex said.
The screen stilled. That was the answer they needed.
The call ended as it always did. No goodbyes. No pleasantries. Just the quiet disappearance of faces that had never seen his.
Alex stood, already reaching for his jacket.
Less than an hour later, he was pulling into the long driveway of his father's house.
The place smelled of old money and discipline. Leather. Wood polish. Control.
Richard Steele did not rise from his chair when Alex entered the study. He did not need to.
"You saw the situation," Richard said, folding his hands. "They are close to making a mistake."
"They are being pressured," Alex replied. "Fear shortens vision."
Richard nodded. "Which is why you will leave tonight."
Alex paused. "Tonight?"
"First flight tomorrow morning," Richard corrected. "You will meet them in person. Quietly. I will make sure the press don't get involved .No distractions."
Alex exhaled once, slow and steady. "And the company?"
"Ethan will cover what needs covering."
Alex did not miss the way his father watched him. Measuring. Always measuring.
"This deal matters," Richard added. "More than convenience."
Alex straightened. "I understand."
That was all that needed saying.
By dawn, Alex was gone.
No announcement. No farewell.
At the Steele mansion, the morning unfolded like any other, until it did not.
Margaret was halfway through her usual inspection when the front doors opened.
The sound echoed,they turned.
The maid nearest the stairs froze with a tray in her hands. Harold, adjusting a vase by the window, stilled mid-motion.
Nicole Vance stepped inside as though she belonged there.
No call ahead. No warning.
Her heels clicked against marble with purpose. Her gaze swept the room, sharp and assessing, already finding faults that had not yet been committed.
"Oh," one of the younger staff whispered, barely audible.
Margaret recovered first. She always did. "Miss Vance," she said carefully. "We were not expecting you."
Nicole smiled. It did not reach her eyes. "Clearly."
She removed her gloves slowly, handing them to no one. "Alex is not home."
It was not a question.
Margaret hesitated. "Mr Steele had an urgent engagement."
"Abroad," Nicole supplied. "Yes. I know."
A ripple moved through the staff.
She continued walking, inspecting surfaces, glancing at corners. "He left quite suddenly. Someone needs to ensure standards do not drop while he is away."
She turned then, finally addressing them properly. "I will be staying."
Harold shifted uncomfortably. A maid exchanged a glance with another. Someone swallowed.
Nicole's eyes settled briefly on Mia.
Too briefly. Too deliberately.
Mia lowered her gaze and returned to what she was doing.
Nicole continued. "Let us be clear. I do not tolerate laziness. Or incompetence. Or familiarity."
She looked directly at Margaret. "This house reflects Alex. I will not allow it to become sloppy."
Margaret inclined her head. "Of course."
Nicole smiled again. Thin. Sharp. "Good."
The day became heavier after that.
Nicole corrected Harold in front of others. Questioned his timing. His posture. His tone.
She paused behind a maid adjusting curtains and sighed audibly. "Uneven. Fix it."
She watched Mia work as though searching for flaws rather than results.
"Is that how you usually hold the knife?" Nicole asked casually.
Mia looked up, startled. "Yes, miss."
Nicole hummed. "Interesting."
Nothing else. Just that.
By midday, everyone felt it.
The house no longer breathed easily.
Mia noticed Alex's absence the same way everyone else did. With mild surprise. With curiosity. With the quiet understanding that powerful people left when they needed to and explanations were optional.
She wondered briefly why the trip had been so sudden. Then she returned to her tasks.
Her thoughts did not linger.
Nicole, however, lingered everywhere.
At lunch, she commented on seasoning. At dinner planning, she questioned choices. Her attention returned to Mia often, always lightly, always cutting just enough to sting without leaving marks.
That evening, Mia stood near the counter when Nicole passed behind her.
"Careful," Nicole said softly. "Mistakes in houses like this are rarely forgiven."
Mia nodded. "I understand."
Nicole's lips curved. "Do you?"
She walked away before Mia could answer.
Later, in her room, Mia sat quietly, exhaustion settling in. She thought about Margaret's steady presence. Harold's strained politeness. The way everyone seemed to hold their breath now.
She told herself it was temporary.
........,...
Across an ocean, Alex sat in a hotel room overlooking a foreign city, documents spread across the desk. The deal was close. Very close.
But his jaw tightened as he read the latest message Ethan had sent.
"She's in the house ,I believe everyone's tensed right now.."
Alex stared at the screen longer than necessary.
Nicole always moved when opportunity appeared.
He closed his phone and returned to work.
Back at the mansion, Nicole poured herself a drink and stood by the window, watching the house settle into uneasy silence.
She smiled to herself.
Time, finally, was on her side.