On the 90th floor of Valmont Tower, Adrian wasn't reviewing blueprints—he was studying a hologram of the city.
A thin blue line cut across the projection: the Valenheim High-Speed Rail.
One hundred billion euros at stake.
"It's ambitious," Adrian said, sliding a finger to zoom in on a projected tunnel beneath the bay. "But I don't want the Valmonts laying a single brick. Let others deal with delays, labor risks, accidents… and hidden costs. We control the data flow concession, the energy grid, and of course—politics."
Meilan stood behind him, scrolling through shortlisted bids on her tablet."There are fifty companies on the list. But one stands out technically. Zhang Construction."
Adrian raised an eyebrow."The Zhangs? Doesn't ring a bell."
"Tell me," Meilan replied coolly, arching a brow. "Do you remember any important families in this city?"
Adrian shook his head. They were all extras—pieces he called upon when convenient.
Meilan exhaled softly.
"It's Yue Zhang's design," she added. "Her magnetic dampening system is fifteen percent more efficient than any competitor's. Brilliant, Adrian. We could analyze the project further… but there's a problem. The family is drowning in debt. Unreliable."
Adrian smiled.
The kind of smile that promised surgical financial dissections.
"Perfect. We buy the project… but we don't give it to them. Contact Yue. Offer her what's fair." He added a subtle wink. "Wink, wink."
Meilan rolled her eyes."You're greedy."
Adrian coughed innocently.
Meanwhile, at the Zhang estate, the atmosphere resembled a family drama with accidental comedic undertones.
The kitchen was thick with the scent of stew, layered over a sense of controlled chaos. Patricio, wearing an improvised headscarf like a banner of domestic heroism, stirred the pot with solemn reverence, humming an epic ballad about "the wealth of the heart," as if each bubble marked a beat of destiny.
"Patricio!" Mrs. Zhang thundered from the living room. "Bring the tea! And clean Yue's folders! Tomorrow is the presentation before the Valmonts, and I refuse to have documents smelling like your plebeian kitchen!"
Patricio bowed slightly, carrying the tray as if it were an Olympic trophy. His satisfied smile seemed to say: I know something you don't yet understand.
"Mother," he declared gravely, like a diplomat on a critical mission, "if destiny wants Yue to win, she will win. Whether Valmont money is clean or not is irrelevant. If it brings happiness to my Yue, then so be it."
At that moment, Yue Zhang entered.
Dark circles framed her eyes—witnesses to nights sacrificed at the altar of corporate survival. In her hands, she carried the high-speed rail blueprints with near-reverent precision.
"Patricio," she said, her voice sharp beneath its calm surface, "did you finish running the data simulations? I asked you three hours ago."
Patricio scratched the back of his head with monk-like indifference.
"Ah, Yue… I got distracted rescuing a neighbor's cat," he replied cheerfully. "But don't worry—love is what holds the foundations of the universe together. Besides, why do you even want that contract? It'll only mean more work… and less time for us."
Yue stood perfectly still.
"Patricio," she whispered, a controlled mixture of disbelief and fury, "if we don't win this contract, the company collapses. My employees don't eat love. They eat stability and salaries."
"If it collapses," he said gently—poetically, even ominously—"I'll take care of you. We can retire to a cabin somewhere, far from the cruelty of capitalists."
Yue turned away, blueprints tucked firmly under her arm, and shut herself inside her office.
In the dim quiet of the room, she cursed with restrained elegance. Her grandfather's final will had forced her into this marriage. Patricio—with his distracted smile and compulsive cat rescues—was an imposed union, a painful contrast to the accomplished men who had once courted her.
But more troubling than her marriage was what stood at stake.
Her family's future.Her company.Her entire professional life.
All balanced on a thread.
The next day, at Valmont Tower's reception hall, the Zhang family arrived in formation.
Her mother-in-law barked orders as if the world depended on her voice. Yue carried her project like a general bearing a standard. And Patricio… well, Patricio carried her briefcase while wearing a T-shirt that read:
"Peace Is the True Success."
"Miss Yue, Mr. Valmont is expecting you," Meilan said coolly, not sparing a glance for the mother-in-law. "Chief engineer only. Assistants… and baggage handlers… may remain here."
"I'm her husband!" Patricio declared, stepping forward with epic solemnity—and the charisma of a bracelet salesman. "Where she goes, I go. I will protect her from bad energy."
Meilan stepped into his path.
Despite being shorter, she radiated immovable authority.
"There is no energy here, Patricio. Only business. One more step and security will escort you through the loading dock. I suspect you'll find it familiar."
Yue looked at him—first with exasperation, then with the gravity of someone holding a billion-euro future in her hands.
"Stay here, Patricio," she said firmly. "And please… stop smiling at the walls. You're not a monk. You're my husband. Act like it."
She entered.
The doors closed.
Patricio remained in the hallway, gazing at the world like a misunderstood epic hero.
"They'll see soon," he murmured to himself. "When I inherit the Osbort Empire out of obligation and buy them all, Yue will thank me for keeping her humble."
The office door shut behind Yue with a decisive click.
She placed the blueprints on Adrian's desk as if they were an offering—or a final testament.
There was no margin for error.
If Zhang Construction failed to secure Project Valenheim, the company wouldn't "enter a crisis."
It would vanish.
Bridge loans would become permanent chains. Personal guarantees would drag the family down for generations. Any child Yue might one day have would be born with an invisible red number stamped on their forehead.
Not exaggeration.
Accounting.
And across the table, there would be no mercy.
Adrian Valmont didn't negotiate with people.
He negotiated with futures.
He had been raised to detect weakness—to smell desperation the way wolves scent blood in snow. Where others saw innovation, he saw percentages. Where others saw effort, he saw how much more could be extracted before collapse.
And something always collapsed.
Yue knew this.
She inhaled slowly.
She wasn't a romantic heroine.She had no room for pride.She couldn't afford to hate him.
The conference room was minimalist, cold, intimidating.
Adrian sat at the opposite end, fingers interlaced, studying her with the calm of a man who believed he held every card.
"Miss Zhang," he began smoothly, "I've reviewed your designs. They're excellent… but I don't need your company. I can purchase the plans, assign my own engineers, and ensure the project moves forward seamlessly. Your involvement would be… optional."
Yue held his gaze.
"Mr. Valmont," she replied evenly, "you cannot replace what my team and I have built into those designs. Every tolerance, every adjustment, every safety simulation is engineered to prevent catastrophic delays and multimillion-euro losses. You can buy the plans—but without us, your investment becomes a calculated gamble."
Adrian tilted his head.
"Let me be clear," Yue continued. "I'm not here to beg. I'm here to offer a structure that guarantees your capital multiplies instead of evaporates. My company is not a luxury—it is the only way to shield this investment from failures no one else can anticipate."
Silence settled between them.
She wasn't desperate.
She was strategic.
"Interesting," Adrian murmured, leaning forward slightly. "But what assures me you're not inflating your value just to save your company? I could take the designs and pay far less."
A faint smile curved Yue's lips.
"Because any failure will legally fall on you. Any delay will cost more than what I'm asking. Everything is documented—milestones, testing phases, deliverables. No surprises. Only results. You minimize risk. I lead the execution and assume responsibility."
Adrian exhaled slowly.
This was no longer negotiation.
It was a board where someone else understood the rules.
He leaned back, arms crossed, studying her.
Yue hadn't pleaded.Hadn't discounted herself emotionally.Hadn't shown weakness.
She had turned pressure into leverage.
"Very well," he said at last, a thin smile touching his lips but not his eyes. "You're hired. But remember—not one centimeter outside the agreement."
"Perfect," Yue replied calmly. "Every clause. Every delivery. Every result—contractually defined. You gain security. I guarantee efficiency. No one loses."
Adrian nodded.
For the first time in years, he found someone… interesting.
Someone who didn't just speak to him with respect—but had maneuvered him into paying for his own security.
And he didn't dislike it.
For a brief moment in Valmont Tower, the shark had found someone who looked back without flinching.
Meilan quietly activated her preventive measure protocol—
A strategic step, just in case trouble decided to exist.