Chapter 7: Playing Dirty

Marcus didn't flinch.

He didn't deny it.

Didn't ask for forgiveness.

He just smiled.

That same polished, calm smile he always wore—the one that made him look like he had nothing to hide. The one Alex had once mistaken for loyalty.

And now, face to face, all of that had been ripped away.

"I was wondering when you'd figure it out," Marcus said, leaning back in his chair like this was a casual after-hours chat.

Alex didn't move. "You stole internal data. That's not ambition. That's treason."

"You say treason, I say preparation."

"Preparation for what?"

Marcus's smile finally dropped.

"For after you fail."

Silence fell between them.

Then Marcus stood and walked slowly across the room to the fireplace, swirling the scotch in his glass.

"I like you, Alex. I really do. You've got fire. You're learning fast. But this empire—it was never meant for you. And deep down, you know that."

Alex stayed seated, his hands clenched under the table.

"You're betting against me," he said. "Why?"

"Because you don't have what it takes to survive long-term in this world. You've been playing defense since day one. You react. You retaliate. But you don't own the game."

Marcus turned around, eyes sharp now.

"I do."

Alex felt the burn in his chest—not from anger, but clarity.

Marcus had never been loyal. He'd been patient.

Watching. Waiting.

"Is this a threat?" Alex asked.

Marcus raised a brow. "No. It's a warning. Step down before you're forced down. The people backing me—people you haven't even met yet—they're done watching this place bleed under your leadership."

"Bleed?" Alex scoffed. "We've had two of our strongest quarters in years."

"Because you inherited momentum. But what happens when that momentum runs out?"

Alex rose slowly. "What happens is I fight."

"Then you'll lose."

The words echoed like steel in the quiet room.

Later that night, Alex sat alone in the estate's study, the fire crackling behind him. The confrontation replayed in his head again and again.

He'd come into this world with good intentions. Wanting to do things differently. With integrity. Honesty.

But now?

Now it was chess.

And Marcus had just moved his queen.

Elizabeth entered quietly, as if she could feel the tension in the air before she even saw his face.

"He made his move, didn't he?"

Alex looked up. "Yeah."

She sat across from him, waiting.

"He wants me to step down," Alex said. "Or he'll force it."

She didn't seem surprised. "You knew this would come."

"I thought I'd have more time."

Elizabeth leaned forward, her voice firm. "Time isn't something you're given in this world. It's something you take. And right now, you need to decide who you're going to be. The man who tries to win clean—or the one who wins, period."

Alex looked down at his hands.

He'd always told himself he wouldn't become like them. That he wouldn't lie or manipulate or destroy people just to get ahead.

But what if not doing that meant losing everything?

What if playing clean meant ending up like his mom—broke, exhausted, forgotten?

"I don't want to become someone I hate," he admitted.

Elizabeth nodded slowly. "Then find a way to win that you can live with."

Alex looked up. "You'll back me either way?"

She didn't hesitate. "I already am."

The next morning, Marcus made his first public move.

A "leaked" memo appeared in one of the financial blogs. It accused Alex of mismanagement, reckless promotions, and hinted that the board was considering "a leadership restructure." It wasn't direct, but it was close enough to start the fires.

By noon, reporters were calling.

By two, stockholders were emailing.

By four, three junior board members had requested a "private discussion" about leadership performance.

Marcus was subtle. Surgical.

He wasn't attacking Alex directly—he was turning the room around him.

Alex took every meeting. He listened, kept his cool, answered questions with the calm of a man pretending not to feel the fire spreading beneath him.

But inside, he was plotting.

And finally, late that night, he called Lana and Elizabeth into the war room.

"We're done playing defense," he said. "It's time we hit back."

Elizabeth crossed her arms. "How far are you willing to go?"

Alex met her eyes. "Far enough to win."

Lana placed a folder on the table.

"Then you'll want to see this."

Inside were photos. Transaction logs. Flight manifests. Meeting records.

Proof that Marcus had been meeting off-record with a rival firm—Winslow & Tarkin—a known enemy of the Dawson Consortium.

"He's preparing a hostile takeover," Lana said. "He's trying to leverage internal chaos to drive the stock down, then sell Dawson off in pieces to the highest bidder."

Alex stared at the documents, something hard settling in his chest.

"This isn't ambition," he muttered. "It's war."

Elizabeth nodded. "Then treat it like one."

The next day, Alex made his own move.

He called a surprise shareholders' meeting.

No press. Just key stakeholders, top board members, and a tight agenda.

When the room filled, the energy was tense. The kind of tension that comes before a vote that could decide someone's future.

Marcus was there, of course.

Polished. Smiling.

Alex took the stage like he had on his first day, but this time—he wasn't nervous.

He was calm.

Composed.

He told the room about stability. About profits. About progress under his leadership.

Then he shifted.

"I've heard the rumors," he said. "That I'm too young. Too green. That this empire should belong to someone else."

He let the silence stretch.

"I respect those concerns. Which is why I'm making everything transparent—right now."

He clicked a remote.

The screen behind him lit up with evidence. Photos. Documents. Records of Marcus's meetings with Dawson's competitors.

There were gasps.

Furrowed brows.

And Marcus?

His smile finally cracked.

Alex didn't accuse him directly. He didn't need to.

The room was already drawing its own conclusions.

By the time the meeting ended, Marcus had gone pale. He didn't speak to anyone. Just left—quietly.

Alex stayed.

Shook hands. Met eyes. Stood tall.

And for the first time…

He felt like the real CEO.

But that night, he didn't celebrate.

Because power wasn't permanent.

And Marcus wasn't gone.

Alex returned to the estate alone. Lana had gone back to her flat. Elizabeth was holding down the phones. Callum was nowhere to be seen—again.

It was late. The halls were quiet.

Too quiet.

As Alex approached his room, something made him pause.

The door was cracked open.

His heart picked up.

He pushed it gently.

Inside, everything was in place—except the envelope on his pillow.

White.

Unmarked.

He opened it slowly.

Inside was a single photo.

A woman.

His mother.

She was standing outside her old apartment building, groceries in hand.

Alive.

Unharmed.

But the message was clear.

The note beneath the photo was printed in small, neat font.

You're playing a dangerous game. Stay in your lane. Or next time, she won't be smiling.

Alex gripped the photo, hands trembling with rage.

Marcus hadn't just gone after him.

He'd gone after the only person he had left.

And now?

Now it was personal.