At the victory party for my fiancé, his assistant got wasted. She staggered over to me and, with a clumsy sweep, knocked the glass of juice in front of me to the floor. “You malicious bitch! Mr. Peter is allergic to mango—were you trying to kill him?” “Chug three shots of tequila, and I’ll tell Mr. Peter to forgive you.” Her entitlement was staggering, yet her devotion to Hudson Peter was absolute. It made Hudson laugh. He pulled her into his arms and looked at me with a practiced, weary expression. “She’s totally tanked, Ari. Don’t hold it against her. When she sobers up, I’ll make her apologize.” But the little assistant, Talia, wasn’t done. She protested she wasn't drunk, not yet. She insisted she needed to see me drink the shots—something stronger than juice—to be satisfied. Finally, Hudson sighed, sounding like the put-upon hero. “Ariel, just take one shot to humor her. Please.” 1 Hearing Hudson’s words, I thought he’d lost his mind. I’m not a patient person. But tonight was his celebration. He’d barely slept in six months to secure the Beaumont Deal, and this victory was hard-won. I hadn't wanted to cause a scene. So I endured his showing up with the young assistant. I endured their vaguely inappropriate intimacy in front of our guests. But now, to indulge her, he was asking me—someone with a severe, potentially life-threatening alcohol allergy—to drink hard liquor. I couldn’t endure that. I wouldn’t. Smash! The crystal decanter full of expensive Scotch collided with the side of Hudson’s head. The glass shattered instantly, leaving a ragged, crimson gash above his temple. Blood mixed with the amber liquor flowed down his face. “Oh my God! What did you do?!” Talia was sober in an instant. She fumbled wildly to wipe the blood away but only managed to push a sliver of glass deeper into the cut. “Shit,” Hudson hissed, his face draining white from the pain. I ignored them both. I picked up a linen napkin and carefully wiped the droplets of Scotch from my fingers. I tossed the napkin onto Hudson’s chest. “You’re my fiancé, Hudson. Consider that your portion.” Hudson bit his lip, letting the blood obscure his vision. He seemed to be only just realizing exactly who I was. The celebration was already a disaster. Staying would only turn me into a punchline. I grabbed my clutch and mumbled an apology to the room—I have to take an urgent call. But before I could turn, Talia blocked my way. “You can’t leave! You assaulted Mr. Peter! I’m calling the police!” Her drunken swagger was gone, replaced by a reckless, sober ferocity. “Talia. Come here.” Hudson’s voice was low and tightly controlled. “She hit you, and you’re just going to let it go?” “I said, come here.” Hudson’s hands were fisted, his words ground out between his teeth. Talia finally stomped her foot, but before retreating behind him, she pointed a finger directly at my face. “So what if you’re his fiancée? He’s a person, not a dog you keep on a leash!” “You old hag! If I ever see you lay a hand on him again, I swear I’ll—” Slap! My patience evaporated. I delivered a swift, ringing backhand across her cheek. “Try pointing that finger at me one more time, and I’ll see to it those fingers never dial a phone again.” 2 I’d met Hudson’s assistant a few times. Young, pretty, enthusiastic. The first time, my friends had joked. “Putting someone that attractive next to your fiancé? You’re not worried he’ll wander?” I told them I wasn’t. I had confidence in Hudson. We weren’t a typical couple. In business, we were a unified force. Our engagement was a strategic alliance layered with a thousand financial entanglements. As the illegitimate son his family had largely ignored, he knew better than anyone that he needed the foundation of the Maxwell Corporation behind him. I wasn’t worried because he couldn’t afford to be unfaithful. But I’d forgotten the classic male flaw. Achieve a little success, and suddenly you forget who brought you to the dance. Those constant ‘Mr. Peter’s from Talia made him forget he wasn’t a self-made man. No matter. I was here to remind him. Hudson cupped Talia’s face. She was stunned into silence, tears welling up in her eyes. I could see the anger—the protectiveness—surging through him. The veins in his forehead were visibly throbbing. “Ariel Maxwell, you’ve gone too far!” I raised an eyebrow. Too far? I was just getting started. Spencer and Brooks, who were sitting near me, finally decided they’d seen enough drama and stood up to mediate. “Hey, come on, you two. Don’t fight over an outsider.” Spencer stepped between us. “Yeah, Hud, you know Ari’s temper. Don’t make us watch this circus.” Brooks followed suit. They were our mutual friends, or at least, they were part of the inner circle. We’d been neighbors since I was fifteen, when the whole generation of the city’s top entrepreneurs moved into the exclusive hilltop community. But they were also the ones who most wanted to see Hudson fail. They resented the bastard son sitting at their table. Their 'mediation' was clearly meant to fan the flames. Spencer played the role of the sympathetic advisor, leaning into me. “Look, Ari, a guy having a little female companion is normal. You can’t be this jealous before you’re even married. What will you do afterward?” Brooks spoke to Hudson. “And you, man, you know the Maxwell temper. Just apologize before she really blows up. After all, without her, you wouldn’t have The Beaumont Deal.” Hudson’s lips tightened, his gaze dark and unreadable. Normally, he’d shoot back a quick retort. But he was drunk, bloody, and had just watched the woman he was protecting get slapped by his fiancée. He was beyond swallowing his pride. 3 He threw a hand up, adopting the pose of the wounded, self-respecting man. He pointed at me. “Ariel, apologize to Talia. If you don’t, I’ll—” Slap! “I’ll—” Slap! “I—” Slap! Three sharp slaps, one after the other. My palm was tingling. I looked at Hudson’s swelling, red face and smiled faintly. “Or what, Hudson? You’ll call off the engagement?” He fell silent. The words cancel the engagement were ones he couldn’t afford to utter. In his hesitation, Talia made the choice for him. “Cancel it then! You just look down on Mr. Peter for being a bastard anyway!” she screamed, still hiding behind him. “Well, I’ll tell you something! Who says an illegitimate son can’t achieve greatness?” A deathly silence fell over the room. Hudson was brought into the family at thirteen, but Victor Peter (his father) had always covered it up, calling him a "younger cousin" or "my youngest son." Only a handful of insiders, like those of us at this table, knew the truth. This was a victory party, packed with business rivals Hudson had invited to gloat over. Now, thanks to his faithful assistant, his secret—and his biggest weakness—was exposed. I couldn’t help but laugh, watching the speculative, judging eyes in the room turn toward him. What a spectacular blunder. Talia’s face turned scarlet. She learned quickly, hiding further behind Hudson, but she kept shouting at me. “Don’t pretend! You and Mr. Peter are only a business deal; there’s no love! Have you ever truly cared for him? Where were you when he was lonely? When he was heartbroken? I was the one who was there, who helped him through the rough times!” I stared at her excited face. I didn't understand why enduring 'rough times' with him was a point of pride. But if they loved 'rough times' so much, I decided to be generous. They were about to have more than they could handle. I pushed past Spencer, who tried to restrain me, and, under the gaze of everyone eager for a show, I pronounced Hudson’s doom. “The engagement is off, Hudson.” “The Beaumont Deal is collapsing, your stock is about to tank, and you’re going back to being the nobody you started as. That’s the agony a thankless bastard like you deserves.” 4 From the hotel, I drove straight to the office. The top floor of the Maxwell Tower was alight. I sat in the executive chair, listening to my secretary’s report. “Madam Maxwell, releasing the Peter Group’s current scandals gives us an 80% chance that the Beaumont will replace their primary partner.” I had first brought the Beaumont project to the Peter Group three years ago. I had just taken over Maxwell Corp and wasn't ready to absorb a project of that magnitude. Hudson was the perfect buffer. If he succeeded, we both won. If he failed, he was ruined, and I had minimal losses. But things were different now. I had cemented my position. I could swallow any project I wanted. The market has no morals. Hudson wasn't the only one who could burn bridges. Within half an hour, my private investigator had compiled everything on Hudson and Talia. She came from an impoverished background, dropped out of high school, and worked as an orderly. A year ago, Hudson’s biological mother was transferred to her hospital for chemotherapy. Hudson frequently visited, and they grew close. His mother was suffering from advanced gastric cancer. He was low, vulnerable. I understood, and I ran interference with the Peter family so he could spend time with her. And in that time, they started their affair. Hudson had covered his tracks meticulously. Before the Beaumont project was secured, he wouldn't dare bring her out in the open. I don’t know if he felt secure enough to finally defy me, or if he genuinely believed he could manage both of us. Either way, he would regret that choice forever. The news of the cancelled engagement was released. Thirty minutes later, the simultaneous leak of Hudson's affair and his illegitimate status hit the wires. My PR team was relentless. The scandals dominated every major publication. In this day and age, no one cares about ‘true love conquers all’ when corporate power is on the line. The official Peter Group social media was flooded with vitriol. Public opinion was universally against him. I sat in my office, watching the Peter Group stock ticker. The night was young. Plenty of people were more anxious than I was. The first person to burst in was my father, Robert Maxwell. We hadn't seen each other in six months. He was currently distracted by a mistress younger than me, a young woman who’d successfully eroded what little common sense he possessed. “Ariel, what the hell are you doing now?!” he bellowed, charging into my office. I took a slow sip of coffee, waved the secretaries out, and looked at him. “Dad, I’m not playing games. I’m dissolving a liability and securing the maximum benefit for Maxwell Corp.” “Bullshit!” He slammed his hand on my desk, the dull thump echoing in the silence. This wasn't the first time he’d accused me of "playing games." When I initiated massive corporate reform, he slapped me. When I fired his leech-like friends from the board, he trashed my office. Here we go again. “What maximum benefit? Ariel, you think just because you’ve run the company for a few years, you understand the world? This isn’t how you do business! Not on the street!” “Recall every announcement now and come with me to apologize to the Peters. Old Man Peter has called me a dozen times! Also, your brother just graduated. I’m putting him in the company to keep an eye on you. This company cannot be run by your whims anymore!” I looked at him calmly. “I’m an only child, Dad. Where did I get a brother?”
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