CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A Dance of Power

The Families' Secret Strategy

Eleanor Winslow, regal as ever, delicately sipped her tea, her sharp eyes fixed on Victoria Melbourne. Across the table, Victoria met her gaze, her expression unreadable. The two matriarchs of powerful empires sat in quiet agreement, their thoughts aligned despite their outward differences.

"Nicole and Tyler are too stubborn to see what's in front of them," Eleanor mused, setting her cup down.

Victoria smirked. "They are too focused on control. But together, they could be unstoppable."

On cue, their husbands—Harold Winslow and Edward Melbourne—entered the private dining room, their discussion already underway.

"We need to act fast," Harold said, adjusting his cufflinks. "The world is watching their every move. If we handle this correctly, Winslow Enterprises and Melbourne Enterprises will become untouchable."

Edward nodded. "A marriage between them strengthens both families. But they won't agree if they suspect we orchestrated it."

"So, we push them together subtly," Eleanor said smoothly. "Give them no choice but to see what we see."

And so, the plan was set.

The Ball: A Stage for Power

The grand ballroom was a spectacle of wealth and status, chandeliers casting a golden glow over the sea of elite guests. Nicole entered with effortless grace, her striking black gown hugging her figure in an aura of silent dominance. Tyler, clad in a sharp tuxedo, stood beside her, exuding the same authority.

Eyes turned to them, whispers spreading like wildfire.

"Tyler Winslow and Nicole Melbourne… the perfect power couple."

"Is this just business, or something more?"

"If they join forces, no one will stand a chance."

Nicole heard every murmured word but remained unfazed. She knew the families had arranged for them to attend together. If they thought she would play into their hands, they underestimated her.

Then came Clara Chem.

The A-list actress, draped in a shimmering red gown, approached with a practiced smile—one meant to disarm and provoke.

"Nicole," Clara purred. "You look… fierce as always. Though, black again? How predictable."

Nicole's lips curled slightly. "A classic choice. Unlike trends, true power never goes out of style."

Clara's smile stiffened. "You must be thrilled to be Tyler's date tonight."

Nicole's gaze remained cool. "Why would I be? This is business."

Clara let out a fake laugh. "Oh, come now. Everyone knows Tyler has a soft spot for you." She turned to Tyler, tilting her head. "But then again, he once had a soft spot for me too, didn't you, Tyler?"

Tyler didn't even glance at her. "Clara, don't embarrass yourself."

A flicker of disbelief crossed Clara's face. She had spent years convincing herself that Tyler had once loved her. But as she looked into his unreadable expression, realization crashed down—he had never been hers.

So it had been a lie. Her lie.

The childhood sweetheart narrative? One she had spun, clung to, and forced others to believe. But Tyler had never played along. He had never chosen her.

Nicole watched the realization dawn on Clara and delivered the final blow with effortless cruelty.

"Clara, you should be careful. Living in delusions for too long makes reality… painful."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Nicole hadn't raised her voice, nor had she insulted Clara outright, yet her words cut deeper than any blatant attack.

Clara, humiliated, turned on her heel and stormed out.

But the night wasn't over for her.

The Unknown Message

As Clara stepped into the quiet hallway, her phone buzzed.

A message. From an unknown number.

"If you truly want Tyler, meet me at Nickolas College. We need to talk."

Her heart pounded.

Who was this? And why did they know exactly what she wanted?

With determination, she slipped into the night.

Waiting for answers.