A Brother’s Advice

After the chaotic Merger Gala, Mila found herself retreating to the quiet, sprawling halls of her Hamptons estate. The coastal mansion, with its pristine white walls and expansive ocean views, had always been a sanctuary for her—a place to regroup when the pressure of the corporate world became too heavy. But tonight, as she moved through the echoing corridors, her mind raced, still fuming from the night's events.

Drake Hawthorne. His arrogance, his smug confidence—it made her blood boil. Mila was used to playing the corporate game, and no one could best her in the boardroom. But this forced merger, with its ancient family ties and its outrageous marriage proposal, was already testing her patience. And Drake's cocky demeanor, his insistence that he could outmaneuver her—it was infuriating.

As Mila entered the luxurious living room, she found her younger brother, Charles Morgan, lounging lazily on one of the oversized leather sofas. A half-empty glass of whiskey rested in his hand, and the faint scent of cigars lingered in the air. Despite his casual demeanor, Charles had been keeping a close eye on the events surrounding the merger. He never missed an opportunity to observe the moves being made, even if he preferred to stay out of the action himself.

Charles looked up as she walked in, his grin lazy but mischievous. "So," he drawled, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "How's married life treating you? Oh, wait—that hasn't happened yet."

Mila glared at him, her mood dark. "Spare me, Charles."

Charles chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just saying. This whole thing could work in your favor. Drake might be insufferable, but merging with Hawthorne Industries could make us unstoppable. Maybe you should stop fighting it and think of the bigger picture."

Mila crossed the room, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor as she sank into an armchair opposite him. She was in no mood for his lighthearted teasing, but there was always a strange sort of comfort in Charles's bluntness. She appreciated that, at the very least, he never took things too seriously. Still, his words hit a nerve.

"The bigger picture," Mila said, her voice tight with frustration, "is that Drake Hawthorne wants to take my company. This whole marriage is just a backdoor move for him to get inside Morgan Enterprises."

Charles raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip of his drink. "Yeah, but you're smart enough to handle him, right? I mean, it's not like you've ever been caught off guard before."

Mila gave him a pointed look. "This is different."

He shrugged, leaning back into the cushions. "Maybe. But if I were you, I'd use this to my advantage. Let him think he's winning. Go through with the marriage, play the long game. You're always two steps ahead of everyone anyway. Just let him get close, then—" Charles made a slicing motion through the air, "—take him down from the inside. Easy."

Mila stared at her brother, considering his words. She hated that there was a kernel of truth in his advice. Charles was usually reckless and uninvolved, the kind of guy who preferred to sit on the sidelines and watch the game unfold. But this time, he was offering her something worth thinking about. She knew she was more than capable of outmaneuvering Drake. But letting him get close enough to strike? That felt dangerous in ways she didn't want to admit.

"I know you," Charles continued, his voice a little more serious now. "You're always the smartest person in the room. You let him think he's in control, and then you make your move when he's least expecting it. You don't need to fight this head-on. Sometimes, it's better to win from the inside."

Mila's fingers drummed lightly on the armrest as she considered his suggestion. It was tempting—let Drake think he was winning, lull him into a false sense of security, and then crush him when the time was right. It was her style, after all. But the idea of playing along, of pretending to fall in line with this absurd marriage, made her uneasy. She had never allowed herself to be vulnerable, and she wasn't sure she was ready to let her guard down, even if it was part of the plan.

"Or," Charles said with a smirk, his usual mischief returning, "you could just sabotage the wedding. Publicly humiliate him, walk away the victor. You'd make headlines for weeks."

Mila's lips twitched into a small, knowing smile. "That's not off the table."

Charles grinned, his eyes gleaming. "There's the Mila I know."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the situation settling between them. Despite his carefree attitude, Charles had always understood her better than most. He knew that beneath her cool exterior, she was constantly calculating, always weighing her options. And while he often took a more reckless approach to life, he respected her ability to stay ahead of the game.

"You've got this," Charles said after a moment, raising his glass to her. "Whatever you decide, you'll come out on top. You always do."

Mila nodded, feeling a flicker of confidence return. Charles was right—she was always two steps ahead. And if she could outmaneuver every other competitor she'd faced, she could certainly outplay Drake Hawthorne. Whether it was through marriage or destruction, she'd find a way to win.

"Thanks," she said quietly, her mind already racing with possibilities. "I'll figure it out."

Charles winked, finishing the last of his whiskey. "I never doubted it for a second."

As Mila left the room, her thoughts whirled with new strategies. The battle with Drake was just beginning, but she had more moves to make, and she wasn't going to back down. Whatever path she chose, she'd make sure it ended in her victory.