High Stakes and Hidden Agendas    

Michael grabbed the folder reluctantly, his fingers brushing over the cover before flipping it open.

He skimmed through the pages, his eyes narrowing as he took in the details. His brow furrowed deeper with every line he read, the tension clear in the tight knot forming on his forehead.

When he reached the proposal, his eyes paused, scanning the offer again to make sure he hadn't misread it. "Five million dollars upfront in exchange for fifty percent of the company's shares."

It was a steep ask, I knew that. But . . . "I'm a businesswoman, and I intended to get back what I invested. This isn't charity." It was strategy.

Michael was still deep in thought, and hadn't looked up yet, but the weight of my offer was sinking in.

I knew he knew just how much this meant — this deal could either save him or push him deeper into a corner.

I watched him quietly as he processed the offer, his fingers now gripping the edge of the folder a little tighter. His brow was still furrowed, and I could see the gears turning in his mind as he weighed the pros and cons.

"Why are you so sure that this project would succeed?" he asked.

My eyebrow rose. "You're not confident in your own work?"

"I am," he snapped. 

I beamed. "Then it will succeed."

He looked at me with an incredulous face like I was crazy. 

I leaned back slightly, giving him space to think. "I'll let you mull it over," I said, breaking the short silence. "But don't take too long. I'm not a very patient woman."

He glanced up at me, his expression still unreadable. I smiled faintly, keeping my composure.

"I expect to hear your decision soon," I added. "Because with or without you, I plan to move forward. But I'd prefer if we did this together."

The ball was in his court now, but I wasn't going to wait forever.

=== 🤍 ===

As I sat inside my car, thinking about my next move, my phone buzzed. Sophia's name flashed across the screen, and I couldn't help but groan internally.

*Not now. Not her.*

God knows I didn't want to take that call, but I also didn't have much of a choice. The last thing I needed was her hovering over me, breathing down my neck, dissecting my every move.

I swiped the screen and held the phone to my ear. "Yeah?"

"Eve? Is that how you greet your mother?"

You're not my mother. The words were right on the tip of my tongue, but I bit them back, forcing myself to stay calm. "Sorry, Mother. I'm kind of busy right now."

"Busy?" Her voice was sharp, cutting through my excuse like a knife. "I called your school, and you've been absent. What have you been up to these past few days? Why haven't you been attending your classes?"

I massaged my temples. Right, I'm still technically a seventeen-year-old in my final year of high school. I always forgot about that little detail.

"I'm . . . busy with my debut," I lied, hoping it would shut her up for the time being.

There was a pause, long enough for me to imagine her scrutinizing every word, every breath I took. "Didn't I tell you to leave everything to us?"

Her tone was skeptical, and I could feel her suspicion oozing through the phone. I had to think fast and sound convincing. "You know I can't just sit still while the most important event of my life is happening in six months. Everything needs to be perfect."

Another pause. I could practically hear the gears turning in her head. "Are you out there hunting for dresses and jewelry?"

I stifled a sigh of relief and forced a laugh, though it felt like acid on my tongue. "You know me so well, Mother." The word Mother made my skin crawl, and I fought back the shiver creeping down my spine.

"Stop what you're doing right now, Eve. You're wasting your time. Even if you scoured all of New York, you wouldn't find anything better than what we've arranged at Bijoux Fashion and Jewelry. We've already prepared and ordered everything for you."

Bijoux Fashion and Jewelry. Of course. It had to be one of the Fays' ventures. What used to be just a jewelry store had grown into a high-end fashion brand, thanks to none other than Leanna Fay — Cole's mother. That woman had the Midas touch. She could turn anything into gold, or so I'd heard.

"Alright, Mom," I replied, trying not to grit my teeth. "I'll stop wasting my time then. But at least send me some pictures of the dress and jewelry?"

"How could I do that?" Sophia scolded, her tone condescending. "Didn't I tell you it's supposed to be a surprise?"

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, right. It wasn't a surprise because they wanted it to be special — it was because the dress wasn't even meant for me. It was for her — for Sophie.

"How about this?" she continued, her voice suddenly too sweet. "Why don't you join me for lunch today? I'm at Greeneries. Let's talk. It's been too long since we've had a proper chat."

I cringed internally, already imagining the forced conversation, the passive-aggressive comments about my behavior. "Aren't you busy?" I asked, hoping for an out. Please be busy. Please have a full schedule.

"Not right now. So come here, okay? I'll be expecting you."

Before I could even form another excuse, the line went dead.

I let out a frustrated sigh, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Sophia was getting suspicious — thanks to Sophie, no doubt. My strange behavior over the past few days wasn't going unnoticed, and avoiding her now would only make things worse. I had no choice but to show up.

The problem was . . . Greeneries was yet another one of the Fay family's many businesses.

Great, I thought bitterly. Just what I needed — a front-row seat to more Fay family drama.