The morning after she turned down the offer, Freya woke to
silence. No emails. No pings from investors. No messages from
the press team.
Too quiet.
She sat in the sunlit corner of her penthouse, coffee
untouched. The steam rose, ghostlike, swirling in the air—evaporating.
Her phone buzzed.
Kael Mercer: You need to come in. Now.
Freya didn't respond, just grabbed her coat and heels.
At Étoile Lennox headquarters, tension clung to the walls like mold. Half her team refused to meet her eyes. Her CFO, Martina Greaves, barely nodded before shutting the boardroom door behind her. Kael stood already waiting, jaw tense, a stack of folders in his hands.
"Someone leaked the offer," he said.
"What?"
Kael slid a tablet across the table. Headlines screamed from the
screen:
'Freya Lennox Rejects Blackbourne Merger—Ego or Strategy?'
'Fashion's Ice Queen Snubs Billion-Dollar Deal'
'Lucian Blackbourne Left at the Altar—Again?'
Her stomach twisted.
"Media's already painting it like you're impulsive. Arrogant. Emotional," Kael added carefully. "Some of the board thinks we should've taken the deal. Investors are calling. They think you let a personal grudge sabotage a growth opportunity."
Freya leaned back, eyes closed, fingers steepled under her chin.
It was happening again—Lucian didn't need to buy her company. He just needed to shake the ground beneath it.
"How the hell did it leak?" she asked finally, her voice low but
razor-edged.
Kael's lips pressed into a line. "We're looking into it. But
someone in this room, or very close to it, wanted the world to see you bleed."
She opened her eyes slowly. "You think it was someone from the inside?"
"I think someone wants you unstable. And right now, they're succeeding."
Freya stood and walked to the window. Outside, the city gleamed—unbothered, oblivious. Her reflection stared back, but she barely recognized the woman looking at her: high cheekboned, sharp-eyed, and suddenly—vulnerable.
A knock at the boardroom door. Martina poked her head in.
"We just got word," she said, glancing between them.
"Valencia Couture pulled out of the capsule launch. And the Paris Fashion Syndicate is reconsidering your invitation to the Autumn Gala."
Freya's chest tightened.
"That's retaliation," she said. "This isn't business politics. This is Lucian."
Kael ran a hand through his hair. "You hit him where it hurt. He's hitting back—with precision."
Freya didn't flinch. "Let him. I won't crawl."
Kael studied her. "You sure you're ready for war? Because this—this won't be clean. And it won't stop at business."
She turned slowly, her voice quiet but charged with lightning.
"He can try to burn me. But he forgets—I learned to walk through fire long before he ever lit a match."
Kael gave a small nod, respect in his eyes. "Then we hold the line."
But as the door closed behind him, Freya felt it—the fracture widening.
Her empire was under siege. Her reputation was being dissected. And somewhere in the shadows, Lucian was pulling strings with his usual elegance—smiling as she struggled to keep her world from falling apart.
The question wasn't whether she would survive this.
The question was: Who would she become in the process?
By Thursday, the cracks were visible.
Freya sat at the head of the Étoile Lennox conference table, her team scattered across the room like debris after a storm.
There was tension in every breath, in every glance. Her assistant, Alina, avoided her gaze. Martina spoke with clipped efficiency. Even Kael had started staying late in the office without telling her why.
No one said it out loud, but she could feel it.
They were waiting—for her to fix it. Or for her to fall.
"This brand isn't built on public opinion," Freya said, voice clear despite the tension in her chest. "We made our name by defying the current, not drifting with it."
"But the current is turning into a riptide," Martina said, flipping her tablet around. "Three brand partners want to 'pause' campaigns. Two more postponed payment on collaborative pieces. And the Paris Gala… still no response."
Freya's jaw tightened. "I'll talk to them myself."
Kael raised a brow. "Freya—"
"No more silence. No more hiding behind PR statements. If people think I'm emotional, fine—I'll show them that emotion doesn't mean weak."
She rose from her chair with sudden force. For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then Kael stood too. "You shouldn't have to explain yourself to people who don't know the truth."
"I'm not explaining," she said coldly. "I'm reminding them who
I am."
She left the room, heels clicking like warning shots.
But as she reached her private office, her composure splintered. She closed the door softly, leaned back against it, and pressed her fingers to her temples. Her pulse thundered.
Her reflection in the mirror across the room was too composed, too perfect—like armor painted over bruises.
Her phone buzzed again.
Blocked Number.
She hesitated.
Then picked up.
"Brave," came the voice. Smooth, dark, amused. "But ultimately… foolish."
Lucian.
Freya said nothing.
"I admire your loyalty—to principle, to pride. It's always been your most dazzling trait." A pause. "And your most dangerous."
She closed her eyes. "Is this how you make your deals now?
Through intimidation and sabotage?"
"No," he said calmly. "Only when someone makes the mistake of declaring war."
"I didn't declare anything. I just said no."
"To me, that is war."
Her fingers curled into a fist around the phone. "What do you want, Lucian?"
There was a hum on the line. Then his answer, low and unshakable.
"You."
A beat.
"You—and everything that comes with you. The Étoile Lennox.
The empire. The legacy. You were always the prize, Freya. You just never saw it."
She ended the call.
The silence afterward was deafening.
Outside, the storm clouds were finally gathering over the city. And this time, she wasn't sure if she was the lightning or the
target.
The city outside moved on as if nothing had changed. But inside Étoile Lennox everything was shifting beneath Freya's feet.
The boardroom was cold when she arrived, late morning light slicing through the blinds. Her team waited—some with hopeful eyes, others with guarded doubt.
Kael stood near the entrance, holding a thin file. He caught her eye and nodded.
"Freya," Martina began, "I've compiled the latest investor feedback. It's not good. Some are pulling back, others want meetings. The media narrative is spinning—some saying you're reckless, others calling this a 'personal vendetta.'"
Freya folded her arms. "They don't see the whole picture."
"No," Kael said softly. "But we have to make them see it. Fast."
Freya paced the room, heartbeat steady but fierce. "We need to control the story—before Lucian turns it into a full-blown war."
Amaris Wynn, her PR lead, stepped forward. "We launch a direct statement. No leaks. No half-truths. Pure, unfiltered."
Freya nodded. "I want it bold. No apologies. No regrets. Just the truth."
Kael handed her the file. "And we need to find the leak."
Her eyes scanned the data—access logs, emails, late-night server activity. A pattern emerged. One name kept appearing near the breaches: Alina Ghosh, her assistant.
Freya's stomach tightened.
That evening, in the quiet of her private office, she confronted Alina.
"Why?" she asked quietly.
Alina's eyes were filled with regret. "I thought… maybe it would help. Maybe it would protect you."
"Protect me from what?" Freya's voice cracked slightly.
"From him," Alina whispered. "Lucian. He promised it was for your own good."
Freya closed her eyes, anger and betrayal crashing through her.
"You were my team," she said. "Not his."
Alina nodded, tears spilling. "I'm sorry."
Freya stood, resolve hardening.
"Then you leave. And you never come back."
As Alina left, Freya felt the fractures in her world deepen. But this time, she wasn't breaking.
She was rebuilding.
The office was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant city noise filtering through the windows.
Freya sat behind her desk, the glow of her laptop casting sharp shadows on her face. The access logs Kael had pulled up earlier didn't add up entirely. Someone else was involved—someone with even deeper access.
Kael stood beside her, arms crossed. "We have one more name," he said quietly. "Eliana."
Freya's heart sank.
Eliana. Her lead strategist, the one she'd trusted most.
"Show me everything," Freya demanded.
As Kael handed over a file, Freya scanned it fast—emails, hidden meetings, suspicious communications with Rune.
Freya ask's "who is this Rune"
Kael " he is been working Lucian to get intel informantion of companies"
Her voice was steady, cold. "She's been feeding them."
Kael nodded. "Not just the leak. Strategy, designs, future plans.
Everything, and Eliana is helping Rune in this."
Freya's fingers clenched the edge of the desk. "Bring her in. I want to hear what she has to say. Alone."
Minutes later, Eliana entered, her usual confident smile faltering the moment she saw Freya's expression.
"Freya," she said cautiously.
"We need to talk," Freya replied, standing and locking the door behind them.
Eliana's eyes flicked to the door, then back. "I don't know what you mean."
"Don't lie to me. I know you've been working with Rune. Giving him intel. Why?"
Eliana swallowed, the bravado slipping away. "You think I want to betray you? I want to save the brand. We're bleeding money, influence—this war with Blackbourne will destroy us."
Freya's gaze hardened. "By selling us out?"
Eliana stepped forward. "You're proud. That pride blinds you.
Rune offered stability, resources. You're fighting a losing battle."
Freya's voice was icy. "This isn't about losing. It's about who controls the story. Who owns the legacy."
Eliana hesitated, then shook her head. "You don't see it. You never will."
Freya stepped close. "Then you're no longer part of this vision."
Eliana's composure shattered. "You're making a mistake."
Freya's voice dropped to a whisper. "I've made worse."
Eliana left without another word.
Freya stood alone, the weight of betrayal settling like ice in her veins.
But beneath the sting was a new fire.
She would rebuild. Stronger. Smarter.
And this time, no one would tear her down from within.
The tension in Étoile Lennox was palpable. The fallout from the leaked deal was spreading like wildfire through boardrooms and pressrooms alike, and the cracks were showing—fractures
threatening to split the company from within.
Freya stood at the head of the long glass table, the morning light casting cold reflections on the polished surface. Around her sat her closest advisors, their faces etched with concern.
"Investor confidence is slipping," Martina reported, her tone tight. "We've lost two major backers already, and others are demanding reassurances."
Freya nodded. "Then we give them no reason to doubt."
Kael stepped forward, sliding a folder across the table. "We've identified suspicious activity on the network—someone accessed confidential files after hours. It wasn't just a leak. It was a deliberate betrayal."
Freya's eyes locked onto the name printed on the top sheet: Alina Ghosh.
Her heart clenched.
"Alina?" she whispered.
"She's been under surveillance," Kael said. "And there's more. Email trails point to a connection with Blackbourne & Co."
Freya clenched her fists. "Arrange a meeting. I want answers."
Later, in the quiet of her office, Alina faced Freya's steady gaze.
"I didn't want to hurt you," Alina confessed, voice trembling.
"Lucian said it was to protect you. That it was for the company so I gave access to Rune."
Freya's voice was icy. "He uses protection as a weapon. And you became his pawn."
Tears welled in Alina's eyes. "I thought I was helping."
"Helping?" Freya repeated. "By betraying your own?"
Alina nodded miserably.
Freya stood, the weight of betrayal heavy but her resolve unbroken.
"You're done here. Effective immediately."
As Alina left, Freya turned to Kael. "This changes nothing. We fight back. Harder."
Kael nodded. "Starting with the narrative."
Freya's jaw tightened. "Starting now."
The office grew quiet once Alina's footsteps faded down the hall. The sting of betrayal lingered, but beneath it, a fierce determination took root.
Kael closed the door behind her and turned to Freya. "They expect you to fold. To go quiet."
Freya shook her head slowly. "They don't know who they're dealing with."
She moved to the window, staring out over the city skyline, steel and glass shimmering like a battleground.
"It's time we stop reacting. Time we start owning this."
Kael stepped closer. "You have the story. Now, you need to tell it."
Freya's lips curved into a small, confident smile.
"Tomorrow, the world hears my side. And they'll understand— Étoile Lennox isn't just a brand. It's a revolution."
The fight was far from over.
But for the first time in weeks, Freya felt something she hadn't felt in a long time: control.