Chapter Twelve: The King's Shadow

He watched the city like a predator.

Lucas Vale leaned back in the leather chair of his private office, one floor below the top of Ashford Tower. The floor no one ever asked about. The one Nicholas had once gifted him with a smirk and a single phrase: "Do whatever you want with it."

He had.

The room was sleek, sterile, quiet—the only sound the soft hum of his air conditioning and the faint clink of the crystal glass he swirled in his hand. Twenty-year Highland Park. A drink for victors. Or, at the very least, soon-to-be ones.

The photo on his desk glared at him from the screen: Nicholas Ashford's hand on Emery Clarke's lower back, his lips brushing the edge of her jaw, her eyes fluttering closed like she was floating. Or drowning.

Lucas clicked the screen off.

Not because he couldn't bear to look at it.

But because he didn't need to anymore.

Emery Clarke had always been smarter than the average executive assistant—organized, shrewd, quiet in a way that made people underestimate her. Lucas never had. From the moment she stepped into Ashford's world, she was a threat.

Not because of her beauty—though she had that in spades.

Not even because she was the CEO's shadow.

No, she was dangerous because she didn't want the spotlight. And that made her hard to predict. Impossible to control.

Lucas hated that.

He preferred his weapons visible. Emery was a dagger hidden behind a silk napkin—something delicate, deadly, and inconveniently loyal.

He stood and moved to the window.

Ashford Enterprises glittered across the city, a beacon of power. Legacy. Control.

He should've been grateful. Nicholas had made him rich. Trusted him with decisions. Even called him his right hand once, back when they were still hungry men clawing toward the same peak.

But then Nicholas fell in love.

And in doing so, he handed Emery Clarke something Lucas had spent ten years carving into boardroom tables:

Influence.

She didn't have the shares, the title, or the voice—but she had Nicholas. And Nicholas was the goddamn crown.

And now? Lucas wanted both.

He tapped the encrypted burner phone resting beside his laptop. One message blinked, unread.

Marla: Confirmed. Tomorrow's vote set. Press leak scheduled for 6:30 a.m.

He allowed himself a rare smile.

Checkmate was never about the king.

It was about the pieces he never saw moving.

He poured another glass of scotch and turned to the framed photograph on his bookshelf—Nicholas and Lucas, ten years younger, standing on the steps of their newly acquired tech startup. Back when the world hadn't yet taught them the price of ambition.

"You never knew how to protect what was yours," Lucas murmured, staring into the glass. "You made it too easy to steal."

There was a knock at his door.

Three short taps.

He knew who it was without asking.

"Come in," Lucas said, returning to his desk.

Marla slipped inside, her heels silent on the plush carpet. Always efficient. Always just on the edge of complicit.

She dropped a manila folder onto his desk.

"Final report. Ethics hearing notes. You were right—she never denied the relationship."

Lucas flipped through the pages slowly, savoring the tightness in his chest that came with winning. It wasn't just about taking Nicholas down. It was about reminding him who made him king.

"Good," Lucas said. "Have Legal draft the contingency notice. I want press coverage locked and the board seated before noon."

Marla hesitated. "And Emery?"

"What about her?"

"She's not the weak link you thought she was."

Lucas looked up, arching a brow.

"I've worked with a lot of women who slept their way to power," Marla said, not without bitterness. "She's not one of them."

Lucas's mouth twitched. "No, she's worse. She believes she earned it."

"Maybe she did."

His eyes sharpened. "That's not relevant."

"She might burn hotter than you expect, Lucas. Don't underestimate her."

"I don't," he said. "I just plan better."

After Marla left, Lucas pulled out the final piece of his puzzle.

A press release.

Six paragraphs. Clinical, legal, damning.

CEO embroiled in alleged affair with subordinate. Board to vote on breach of conduct.

A leak like this would sink most men.

But Nicholas wasn't most men. Lucas knew that. That was why he needed the timing to be perfect. One moment of chaos. One small fracture. And then—

Implosion.

He'd waited years for this.

Lucas Vale didn't destroy things recklessly.

He waited. Measured. Calculated.

And when the moment came?

He used a scalpel, not a sword.

Still, as midnight crawled across the edge of the glass and the city grew quieter, something shifted.

He opened the drawer of his desk.

Tucked inside, worn with age, was an old printout. A stock certificate—one of the first he and Nicholas had signed when Ashford Enterprises went public. Their signatures side by side. Dreams scrawled in ink.

Lucas stared at it longer than he meant to.

Once upon a time, this had been enough.

Power. Vision. A seat at the table.

But vision didn't last. Not when it was shared with someone who always stood half a step ahead. Nicholas had taken the light. The applause. The girl.

Now Lucas wanted something else.

Legacy.

And Emery Clarke?

She was the only piece he hadn't yet accounted for.

He reached for his phone again.

Typed a message.

To: Unknown Contact

Subject: Clarke File

Message: Dig deeper. College. Former employers. I want everything.

If she was smart, she'd disappear after tomorrow.

If she was smarter, she'd play ball.

But if she tried to stand in his way?

Lucas would make sure she burned before Nicholas ever had a chance to put out the fire.

As he stared out at the city again, his reflection stared back in the glass.

It wasn't a man he hated.

It was a man who had waited too long to take what he'd already earned.

Tomorrow, the narrative would change.

Nicholas Ashford would fall from grace.

And Lucas?

Lucas would rise from the shadows.

Not as the king.

But as the man who killed him.