The Tycoon's Pawn

"I am dead serious," Robinson stated flatly. "You will marry the granddaughter of Davis Hotel's patriarch. It's a simple way to acquire their iconic property and reputation."

"Over my dead body!" Mike roared, slamming his fist on the desk. "I don't give a damn about your shady business deals. I made a vow to never be trapped in that farce of a marriage contract!"

Robinson remained unnervingly calm in the face of his son's fury. "Your selfish refusal could unravel everything I've built across decades of hard work. Is that what you want, Michael? To see my legacy crumble?"

Mike laughed bitterly. "Legacy? You mean your web of crime, extortion, and trampling over anyone in your way? Forgive me if I'm not shedding tears over it."

In a flash, Robinson was towering over his son, his face mottled with rage. "How dare you speak to me that way, you insolent whelp! I put a roof over your head, showered you with everything!"

"Yeah, and drove my mother away with your cruelty and philandering," Mike shot back venomously. "I remember exactly the kind of 'legacy' you bestowed!"

Father and son glared at each other, the temperature of the room dropping by degrees. Finally, Robinson spoke in a low, deadly voice.

"This conversation is over. You'll marry the Davis chit, and embrace the path I've set for you. Or I'll ensure you're cut off from every penny, living like the disrespectful pauper you are."

Mike's jaw clenched, knowing his father always made good on his threats. "We'll see about that... Father."

As Mike stormed out, Robinson smirked coldly to himself. His son's defiance meant nothing. He always got what he wanted in the end, by whatever means necessary.

Mike drained his third tumbler of whiskey and signaled the bartender for another. Liquid courage was the only way to dull the white-hot rage burning in his gut over his father's latest dictate.

"Hey man, maybe you've had enough," the bartender said carefully.

Mike shot him a withering glare. "I'll decide when I've had enough. Now pour."

Wisely, the bartender complied, knowing better than to argue with the notoriously ill-tempered heir. Mike downed the next glass in one burning swallow.

"Freaking control freak," he muttered, slamming the glass down. "Thinks he can barter me off like a bargaining chip."

His mind was buzzing from the whiskey, anger making his thoughts incoherent. Somehow he made his way to his cherry-red Ferrari and peeled out of the parking lot, tires squealing.

The city streets blurred past as Mike floored the accelerator, cutting off other drivers with reckless abandon. He didn't care about rules or consequences tonight. All he wanted was to outrun his father's voice, those demeaning demands....

Up ahead, a lone figure appeared on the dimly-lit side road, crouched by some bushes. Mike squinted, unable to make it out until he was nearly on top of it.

It was a woman, looking distressed, reaching for something in the foliage.

Time seemed to slow as their eyes met through the windshield. Mike's chest tightened, cold sweat prickling his skin as horrified realization sunk in - she was frozen, perfectly in his path.

He slammed on the brakes but the ultra-high-performance car couldn't compensate in time. Jolted by adrenaline, Mike wrenched the wheel sharply to the left.

The Ferrari went into a heart-stopping sideways skid directly towards the terrified woman. She shrank back, her scream swallowed by the shriek of tortured brakes and smoking rubber.

Mike braced himself, squeezing his eyes shut in dreadful anticipation of the impact...

... Which never came. Just a jarring thud that nearly pitched him through the windshield as his car slammed sideways into a tree.

Stunned, it took several moments for Mike to get his bearings and register the throbbing pain in his temples. Blinking dazedly, he turned towards the motionless figure crumpled on the road, mere feet from his car.

"Oh god...no..."

He wrestled with his seatbelt and wrenched open the door, stumbling across the weed-choked pavement on shaking legs. The putrid stench of burnt rubber stung his nostrils as he dropped to his knees beside the still body.

Up close, it was clearly a young woman in simple sundress, her dark hair spilled across the cracked asphalt. A small bag lay discarded alongside a chewed-up rope toy, some kind of...dog toy?

But Mike couldn't focus on that, his heart hammering with a mixture of relief that she was alive and white-hot anger at her carelessness.

Just then, the woman's eyes fluttered open, dazed and confused. Before she could speak, Mike's rage boiled over.

"You stupid woman!" he shouted, startling her. "What in blazes were you thinking, standing in the middle of the road like that?"

The woman flinched at his harsh tone, blinking owlishly. "I...I was just trying to rescue this puppy..."

"Oh a puppy, how precious!" Mike spat out sarcastically. "And nearly costing me my life and car was worth it?"

Her expression hardened as the shock wore off. "How dare you? You're the one who came barreling down this road like a bat out of hell! I could have been killed!"

Mike barked out a bitter laugh. "Don't play the victim here. If you hadn't been dawdling in the street like an idiot --"

"If you had been driving responsibly and not like a reckless maniac --" she shot back, pushing herself up on her elbows to glare at him.

"Listen here, you foolish girl! Do you have any idea who I am? I could have you arrested for obstructing traffic, for damages --"

"Oh of course, the great wealthy boor thinking he owns every road he drives on!" She struggled to her feet, chin raised defiantly despite her disheveled appearance. "Why am I not surprised?"

Mike opened his mouth for another retort, but shocked surprise rendered him briefly speechless. This woman had nerve, keeping up with his verbal battering without cowering.

An unfamiliar flicker of admiration, quickly extinguished, before his rage returned full force. "You're lucky I am a responsible citizen calling an ambulance, after your careless stunt!"

"I don't need your charity, you arrogant lout!" She scooped up her bag and the puppy dog, shooting him one last withering glare. "I'd sooner die than accept help from the likes of you!"