The Clearwater meeting concluded with no clear victor. Both Melanie and Rhys presented such compelling cases that the board decided to delay their decision, leaving the two rivals fuming yet determined. But as the dust settled, both realized that the real battle had just begun—and it wasn't going to stay confined to boardrooms and contracts.
---
A Press Encounter
Later that day, Melanie exited Clearwater's gleaming tower, only to find herself swarmed by a gaggle of reporters. Their cameras flashed like lightning as they hurled questions her way.
"Ms. Scott, is it true that Rhys Edwards accused you of unethical practices during the meeting?"
"What do you say about Edwards Global's claim that Scott Enterprises lacks the infrastructure for Clearwater's needs?"
Melanie adjusted her sunglasses, her expression calm but icy. "I say the facts speak for themselves. And if Mr. Edwards has to resort to baseless accusations, it only shows the strength of my position."
Before she could escape into her waiting car, a baritone voice cut through the chaos.
"Baseless, huh?"
Melanie froze. Turning slowly, she found Rhys standing at the entrance, a smirk tugging at his lips as reporters turned their attention to him.
"Careful, Scott," Rhys said smoothly. "Your overconfidence might just be your downfall."
She stepped closer, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement. "And your arrogance will be yours."
The tension was palpable, the crowd of reporters eating up every second of their heated exchange. But Melanie didn't care. Let them see her fury—let the world know she wasn't backing down.
Rhys leaned in, his voice dropping so only she could hear. "You're out of your depth, Melanie. This is my game."
Her jaw clenched. "Not anymore."
---
The "Accident"
That night, as Melanie drove back to her penthouse, she couldn't shake the memory of Rhys's smug expression. She gripped the steering wheel tighter, the city lights blurring past her.
She was so lost in thought that she barely noticed the black SUV that had been tailing her for the last few blocks.
It wasn't until the vehicle sped up and cut her off that she realized something was wrong.
Her car screeched to a halt, narrowly avoiding a collision. Heart pounding, Melanie watched as two men in dark suits emerged from the SUV and approached her window.
"Ms. Scott," one of them said, his tone polite but firm. "We need to have a word."
She rolled her window down just enough to glare at them. "And who exactly are you?"
"Just messengers," the man replied, slipping a card through the gap. It was plain white, with only a single name printed on it: Steven Clarkson.
Melanie's stomach churned. "Tell your boss I don't respond well to threats," she snapped, throwing the car into reverse and speeding away.
---
Rhys's Perspective
Meanwhile, Rhys sat in his office, nursing a glass of scotch. The glow of the city skyline bathed the room in a soft light, but his thoughts were anything but peaceful.
He replayed the Clearwater meeting in his mind, analyzing every word, every reaction. Melanie had been good—too good.
"Still brooding?"
Rhys looked up to find Steven lounging in one of the armchairs, a smirk on his face.
"I told you not to get involved," Rhys said, his tone sharp.
Steven shrugged. "You're too soft on her. Someone needs to remind Melanie Scott that she's not untouchable."
Rhys's eyes narrowed. "What did you do?"
"Relax. Just sent her a little message," Steven replied, sipping his drink.
Rhys slammed his glass down. "This isn't a game, Steven. Stay out of it."
"Funny," Steven said, leaning forward. "You used to love playing games. What happened, Rhys? Did she get under your skin?"
Rhys didn't answer, but the flicker of unease in his eyes spoke volumes.
---
Melanie's Counterstrike
The next morning, Melanie arrived at Scott Enterprises in a foul mood. She marched into her office, barking orders at Dana.
"I want everything we have on Steven Clarkson—business dealings, personal life, skeletons in his closet. I want it yesterday," she snapped.
Dana blinked, taken aback. "Um, okay. Anything specific I should look for?"
"Anything I can use to remind him that I'm not someone to mess with," Melanie replied, her voice like steel.
Dana nodded, scurrying off to complete the task.
Left alone, Melanie sank into her chair, rubbing her temples. The pressure was mounting, and she couldn't afford to lose focus.
Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen. It was an email—from Rhys.
The subject line read: Truce?
Her heart skipped a beat. She opened the message, her eyes scanning the words quickly.
Let's meet. Neutral ground. I have a proposal.
---
The Meeting
That evening, Melanie arrived at an upscale restaurant, the kind of place where deals were made over champagne and filet mignon. Rhys was already there, seated in a private booth, his expression unreadable.
"You look... tense," he said as she slid into the seat opposite him.
"Get to the point, Edwards," she replied curtly.
Rhys smirked, clearly enjoying her hostility. "Fine. I propose we call a truce. Clearwater can make their decision without any more... interference from either of us."
Melanie raised an eyebrow. "And why would I agree to that?"
"Because if this keeps escalating, it's not just our reputations on the line. It's our companies," Rhys said, his tone serious.
She studied him, searching for any hint of deception. "What's the catch?"
"No catch," he said, leaning back. "Just two professionals agreeing to act like adults."
Melanie snorted. "You wouldn't know professionalism if it hit you in the face."
Rhys chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Think about it, Scott. This isn't just about you and me anymore. There are bigger stakes here."
She considered his words, her mind racing. Was this a genuine offer, or just another move in his game?
---
The Twist
As they left the restaurant, Melanie couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Rhys had been too... reasonable.
Her suspicions were confirmed when she returned to her car and found an envelope tucked under the windshield wiper.
Inside was a single sheet of paper with the words: You should've taken the deal.
Her blood ran cold.