CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Unseen ChessboardA Mother's Proposition

Nicole had barely settled into her schedule when an unexpected lunch invitation arrived—personally delivered by Eleanor Winslow. Tyler's mother.

Nicole's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied the elegant note. The Winslows were not a family known for idle gestures. If Eleanor wanted a meeting, it was because she had an agenda.

Still, Nicole accepted.

The private restaurant Eleanor had chosen exuded exclusivity. A secluded booth awaited her, and when she arrived, Eleanor was already sipping a glass of red wine, poised as if she had all the time in the world.

"Nicole, dear." Eleanor's smile was warm, yet practiced—like a seasoned politician greeting an opponent. "I appreciate you making time for me."

Nicole slid into the seat opposite her. "Mrs. Winslow. I assume this isn't just a social call."

Eleanor's gaze held amusement. "Straight to the point. I expected nothing less from you."

Nicole remained silent, waiting.

Eleanor leaned forward slightly. "You and Tyler. You're making waves. The media is already speculating whether he's pursuing you for love or for a more strategic reason."

Nicole's lips curled slightly, not quite a smile. "And what do you think?"

"I think," Eleanor mused, swirling her wine, "that if you and Tyler were to unite, it would be the most formidable partnership of this generation."

Nicole's expression remained unreadable. "Is that what this is about? A merger?"

Eleanor laughed softly. "Darling, you make it sound so cold. I simply want to know—are you open to the idea?"

Nicole met her gaze directly. "No."

Eleanor didn't flinch, but her smile grew more knowing. "That's what you say now."

Nicole took a sip of her drink. "It's what I'll always say."

"We shall see," Eleanor said, setting her glass down. "Regardless, I hope we can keep an open dialogue. You're a remarkable young woman, Nicole. No matter how this unfolds, I respect you."

Nicole inclined her head, but inwardly, she was already preparing for the next move in this unseen chess game.

She would not be anyone's pawn.

The Families' Secret Dinner MeetingUnbeknownst to Nicole and Tyler, their families convened later that evening in a private dining hall at an exclusive members-only club.

Victoria Melbourne, Eleanor Winslow, Edward Melbourne, and Charles Winslow sat across from each other, a feast before them untouched as the real reason for their gathering took precedence.

"They are both strong-willed," Victoria noted, sipping her tea. "Neither will give in easily."

"But they complement each other," Charles Winslow countered. "Nicole challenges Tyler in a way no one else ever has. And Tyler won't stop pursuing her."

Eleanor sighed dramatically. "It would be easier if she didn't have such a sharp mind."

Victoria smirked. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Edward Melbourne, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "We need to push them together in a way that neither can resist. Let them believe it was their decision all along."

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Eleanor asked.

Charles set his glass down. "The ball. Tyler is already attending as one of the main guests. If Nicole is there too, they'll be forced into the spotlight together."

Victoria tilted her head in thought. "A well-placed rumor, a perfectly timed dance, and perhaps a few nudges in the right direction…"

Edward smiled slightly. "Then let's make it happen."

The decision was made.

Nicole and Tyler were walking into a carefully orchestrated trap.

The Ball: A Stage Set for TwoNicole had not planned on attending, but an "urgent request" from an influential board member left her with little choice.

Dressed in a sleek, custom-made gown—a vision of icy perfection—she entered the grand ballroom with her usual air of authority.

Tyler was already there.

He looked striking, his presence commanding, but Nicole ignored him, making her rounds with the elite, giving nothing away.

Then came Clara Chem.

The A-list actress, daughter of the renowned Dr. Philip Chem, and the woman who had long harbored illusions about Tyler.

Clara sauntered toward Nicole, champagne glass in hand, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"I must say, Nicole, you're quite the spectacle tonight," Clara began, her tone sweetly condescending. "But I suppose someone like you always knows how to… make an impression."

Nicole's gaze flicked to her, cool and unreadable. "As do you, Clara. Though for vastly different reasons."

Clara's smile faltered. She had hoped to provoke Nicole, but there was no visible reaction.

Still, she pressed on. "It must be exhausting, pretending to be untouchable all the time."

Nicole tilted her head, feigning curiosity. "Pretending? I wasn't aware it required effort."

A ripple of amusement spread among the nearby guests.

Clara's grip on her glass tightened. "You know, not everyone can handle someone like Tyler. He requires… a certain kind of devotion."

Nicole's lips curved, but there was no warmth in the gesture. "Ah, devotion. Such a romantic word. And yet, utterly irrelevant when the feelings are not mutual."

Clara's face burned. The implications were clear.

Tyler had never loved her.

And he never would.

She turned to Tyler in a final, desperate attempt. "Tyler, tell them how close we were. Tell them—"

Tyler barely spared her a glance. "Clara. That's enough."

It was the final blow.

Clara's world shattered in that moment. The illusion she had carefully crafted—the lie she had told herself for years—crumbled before her eyes.

She left in a whirlwind of embarrassment and rage.

And as she stormed outside, her phone buzzed.

A message.

Unknown Number: "If you truly want Tyler, meet me at Nickolas College. I have something you'll want to hear."

Clara's breath hitched.

A new game was beginning.

And she was desperate enough to play.