CHAPTER 3

The Aftermath of a Challenge

Naarah's apartment was small but cozy, a stark contrast to the intimidating luxury of Peter's world. Yet, as she shut the door behind her, she realized something unsettling—her space no longer felt as familiar.

Peter Alexander had gotten under her skin.

Her fingers trembled as she turned the lock, her mind still replaying their conversation. The way he had looked at her. The way his voice had curled around each word like a dangerous promise.

And worst of all…

The way her body had reacted.

A frustrated groan left her lips as she sank onto her couch.

What was wrong with her?

She had confronted one of the most powerful men in the world today—stood her ground, refused to be intimidated. And yet, here she was, flustered because of a few loaded words and a look that had lingered just a second too long.

Her phone vibrated.

She grabbed it quickly, half-expecting an unknown number—his number. But it was just her friend, Elena.

Elena: Did you just go head-to-head with Peter Alexander?!

Naarah exhaled sharply.

Naarah: How do you even know about that?

Elena: Babe, it's all over the finance blogs. You're trending.

Her stomach dropped.

Oh no.

She scrambled to open her browser, her heart hammering as she searched for her name. Sure enough, headlines jumped out at her—

"Young Woman Challenges Billionaire Peter Alexander in a Shocking Boardroom Clash!"

"Who is Naarah Evans? The Woman Who Stood Up to One of the Most Powerful Men in the World."

"Power Play or Publicity Stunt? The Heated Confrontation Between Peter Alexander and a Mystery Woman."

Naarah buried her face in her hands.

This was bad.

Really bad.

She had wanted to help people—not become some kind of internet sensation overnight.

Her phone vibrated again.

Elena: Are you okay?

Naarah: Not really. This is a disaster.

Elena: Okay, but let's be real… is he as sexy in person as he is in photos?

Naarah groaned.

Leave it to Elena to focus on that detail.

Naarah: Not the point!

Elena: So that's a yes?

She didn't dignify that with a response.

Instead, she tossed her phone aside and forced herself to breathe.

She needed to focus.

This wasn't about Peter or his stupid, unreadable smirks. This was about the families that were about to lose their homes.

Her resolve hardened.

She had gotten his attention. Now she just had to figure out how to make him listen.

---

Elsewhere…

Peter leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window of his penthouse, a glass of whiskey in hand. The city stretched beneath him, a glittering web of power and influence.

His mind, however, was on something far more intriguing.

Naarah Evans.

He had walked into that boardroom expecting another predictable meeting. More deals, more numbers, more people too afraid to challenge him.

And then she had stormed in.

She had been a breath of fresh air—fiery, passionate, completely unafraid to challenge him in front of his own people.

That alone had been enough to intrigue him.

But what truly fascinated him… was her innocence.

She had no idea what kind of world she had stepped into. No idea that she had just put herself on the radar of men far more ruthless than him.

Peter swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light.

She had told him she wasn't afraid of him.

Foolish girl.

She should be.

But for some reason, the thought of her being afraid left a bitter taste in his mouth.

His phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number.

Unknown: You're losing your edge, Peter. Since when do you let little girls challenge you in your own house?

Peter's jaw tightened.

He knew exactly who this was.

Peter: You're watching too closely, Damien. Jealous?

A pause.

Then—

Damien: Only if she tastes as sweet as she looks.

Peter's grip on his glass tightened, fury flashing in his eyes.

Damien Carter—the world's richest man. His rival.

The man who had once been beneath him in strength, before betrayal had left Peter weakened.

And now, Damien had his eyes on her.

Peter exhaled slowly, controlling the surge of anger rising in his chest.

Naarah had no idea what kind of game she had just walked into.

But if Damien thought he could lay a hand on her…

He was gravely mistaken.

Peter tossed back the rest of his whiskey and set the glass down with a sharp clink.

The game had begun.

And Naarah?

She was now a piece on the board.