The boardroom is deathly silent.
Zayne Aldridge sits at the head of the long, polished table, his jaw is clenched and eyes scanning the faces of the men and women who held his future in their hands. The tension in the air is palpable, thick with the unspoken gravity of what was about to happen. Sinclair had engineered this moment with terrifying precision, and now, Zayne was standing on the edge of a precipice.
Calla sits beside him, her fingers clutches a pen tightly in her lap, though her thoughts are far from the paperwork spread across the table. Her pulse race, each second ticking by like a countdown to disaster. The emergency vote is about to commence, and Sinclair's plan was in full motion.
Sinclair himself isn't in the room, of course. That would have been too bold, too brazen. Instead, his influence ooze from every corner, lingering in the nervous glances exchanged between the board members. His planned moves had turned these people against Zayne, or at the very least, made them doubt.
"All in favor of the proposal to remove Mr. Zayne Aldridge as CEO of Aldridge Gemstones, please indicate by raising your hand," the chairman's voice rings out, cold and final.
Zayne did not flinch, his steel-blue gaze unwavers as he looks across the room. For a moment, no one moved. It was as if time has stopped, the fate of the company hanging in a fragile balance.
Then, one hand slowly lifted.
Zayne's stomach clench, but he doesn't let it show. His father had always told him that the key to control was composure. Even when the world was crumbling around you, never let them see the cracks. One hand. He could deal with one. But then, another hand rose. And another.
Each vote felt like a dagger to the chest, but Zayne keeps his expression neutral, though inside, he could feel his empire slipping away. The final hand lifted, sealing the majority vote.
"It is decided," the chairman says, his voice devoid of emotion. "Effective immediately, Zayne Aldridge is removed from his position as CEO of Aldridge Gemstones."
The words hit like a physical blow. Zayne exhales slowly, leans back in his chair, his mind races. The room is unnervingly quiet, the kind of quiet that comes after a victory, just not his.
Calla's heart sinks, and she instinctively reaches for Zayne's hand under the table. He didn't move, didn't react. But she feels the tension in his grip, the fury that simmers just beneath his cool exterior.
"This isn't over," Zayne says, his voice calm but loaded with meaning.
The board members exchange nervous glances, unsure how to respond. But Zayne wasn't looking at them anymore. He stands, straightens his jacket as if this meeting were just a minor inconvenience, something to be dealt with before moving on to more important matters.
"I will fight this," he continues, his voice growing stronger, more commanding. "You think you can side with Sinclair and take what is mine? My company, my legacy? You have made a mistake."
The chairman cleares his throat awkwardly. "Mr. Aldridge, the board's decision is final. We..."
"No," Zayne cuts him off, his gaze sharp as a blade. "The board's decision is temporary. And mark my words, I will be back. Sinclair may think he has won, but he has forgotten one thing."
The room held its breath. Even Calla, though she knew the full weight of Sinclair's power, feels a surge of hope at Zayne's words. She knew he wasn't bluffing. Whatever he had in mind, he was not finished.
"He has forgotten who I am," Zayne finished, his voice low but filled with unmistakable menace. "I am Aldridge. And I don't lose."
Without waiting for a response, Zayne turns and strides out of the room, his steps steady, purposeful. Calla follows quickly, her heart pounding as they left the stunned silence of the boardroom behind. They walk in silence for a few moments, until Zayne suddenly stops in the hallway, his back still to her.
"I have a plan," he says quietly,
Calla frowns. "Zayne, what are you thinking?"
He turns to face her, and for the first time since the vote, she could see the fire burning in his eyes. The kind of fire that only comes when a man is cornered, when he has nothing left to lose.
"We are going to bring Sinclair down," he says, his voice full of dark conviction. "For good."
....
Later that night, Calla sits in Zayne's penthouse, watching him pace the floor, the city lights flickers through the massive windows behind him. She could see the gears turning in his mind, the relentless calculation that had always made him so formidable.
"How?" she asks, breaking the silence. "What is the plan?"
Zayne stops, turning to her with a look she hadn't seen before. It wasn't desperation. It wasn't fear. It was something else, something more dangerous.
"I have been holding back," he admits. "Sinclair's been playing dirty for years, but I always thought I could win this clean. I wanted to believe that if I stuck to my principles, my name, my reputation would be enough. But I was wrong."
Calla's pulse quickens. "So what now?"
"Now, we fight on his level," Zayne says, his voice ice cold. "He wants to destroy me? Fine. But I am going to hit him where it hurts. I am going to take everything from him, his business, his fortune, his reputation. And when I am done, there won't be anything left of Victor Sinclair but a cautionary tale."
Calla feels a chill run down her spine. There was a ruthlessness in Zayne's words that she had not expected, a willingness to go to war, no matter the cost.
"How?" she asks again, more softly this time.
Zayne walks over to his desk, pulling out a file and dropping it in front of her. "This," he says simply.
Calla opens the file, her eyes scanning the documents inside. It was a dossier on Sinclair. Every shady deal, every under-the-table transaction, every skeleton in the man's closet. Zayne had been gathering dirt for years, waiting for the right moment to strike.
"This could ruin him," Calla whispers, looking up at Zayne in disbelief.
"That is the point," he says, his eyes locking with hers. "But we need more. This isn't enough to break him completely. We need to find something bigger. Something that will destroy him for good."
Calla closes the file, her mind racing. She knew what Zayne was asking of her. He wanted her help to find that final piece, the one that would topple Sinclair's empire. But as she looks into Zayne's eyes, she sees something she hadn't expected, a hunger, that made her wonder how far he was willing to go.
And for the first time, she wasn't sure if Zayne was the man she had thought he was.
"What's the next move?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
Zayne smiles, but there is no warmth in it. "We go to Sinclair's home. Tomorrow."
Calla's breath stops. "His home?"
Zayne nods, his voice low and dangerous. "It is time to make this personal."
...
The next morning, as they drive to Sinclair's estate, Calla couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled in her chest. This wasn't just business anymore. This was war. And as they approach the gates of Sinclair's mansion, she realizes just how far Zayne was willing to go. They were stepping into enemy grounds.
As the gates swung open, Zayne's phone vibrates in his pocket. He glances down, his eyes narrows at the message.
"What is it?" Calla asks, her heart beating hard.
Zayne looks up, with dark expression. "It's Mason."
"Mason? What does he want?"
Zayne's grip tightens on the steering wheel. "He says we are too late."
Just as the car rolls to a stop in front of the estate, an explosion rocks the ground beneath them, a fireball erupts from the far side of the mansion.
Calla screams as the force of the blast shakes the car, the deafening sound echoes in the air.
Zayne's voice is grim as he whispers, "Sinclair… he is making another move."