NOVPUBThat same day, the Grand Continental Hall located just some few distance away from the Steele Complex in Mauravard Street had a major event for the day.
The building was a cubical shaped skyscraper, shimmering under a canopy of opulence. It was built by a group of top investor companies many years ago to house events such as these.
Inside, the ceilings were high and vaulted, adorned with specialized golden filigree designed with different types of business ventures: tech, infrastructure, fashion, food, heathcare, etc.
Massive chandeliers, their crystals catching the light like captured stars, cast a warm glow over the gathered elite. The air was thick with the quiet elegance of power because in this room, some of the most wealthiest people were present.
There were men in bespoke suits tailored to perfection, and women in gowns that whispered wealth with every step. Conversations hummed beneath the clink of crystal flutes, names traded in hushed tones, old money forging alliances with new ambition.
The Global Innovation and Investment Summit was in full swing.
This year, Los Alverez played host, a city where wealth and vision collided on every polished street corner. The hall was a labyrinth of curated spaces: interactive lounges with plush velvet seating, semi-private booths draped in silk partitions, and sleek demo stages where the future was pitched in real time.
The television displayed market trends, startup valuations, and intricate data visualizations of emerging industries.
Darren attended this summit in a gray suit and blue tie, hands folded with his steel blue eyes ahead.
But he wasn't alone.
Olivia Sinclair was beside him, her fitted black sheath dress catching the light with delicate pearl straps that shimmered as she moved.
She had her beautiful emerald hair falling over one shoulder, while her lips sparkled red.
As CEO of a rising venture incubator, she carried herself with the calm authority of someone who knew her worth. This was a good opportunity for her to get her first egg company to incubator so her sharp emerald eyes scanned the room, missing nothing.
Her company's booth was in between those of two other major companies. It said Olive Rub Capital with a simple logo of a rolling olive branch and a mission statement etched in clean serif font: Cultivating Early Visions. 𝓷ℴ𝓿𝓹𝓾𝓫.𝓬ℴ𝓶
When she and Darren had arrived, they hadn't lingered there long. Booths were for amateurs. The real game at summits like this was played in the margins— over drinks, in fleeting glances, in perfectly timed encounters.
Now, they stood together on a high-railed mezzanine platform overlooking a demo pit where a Singapore-based innovator was pitching a computer application for urban planning.
The presenter's voice carried, smooth and confident, as the TV screens around her showcased algorithms that optimized energy grids in real time, helping cities through her app.
"Impressive," Olivia murmured, sipping her champagne, the bubbles catching the light. "But half these people don't know whether to back digital assets or run from it."
Darren's eyes flicked to the demo, then back to the crowd. "Because they weren't there when it was just code in a basement. I understand how digital assets might throw people off."
Olivia smiled. "Of course you do. You're investing in the riskiest digital asset of all."
Darren didn't say anything.
She tilted her head, studying him. "You're quieter than usual."
He still didn't respond, his gaze distant, scanning the sea of faces below.
She leaned closer, her voice softening. "Everything alright, Darren? Or let me guess, this has to do with a particular multi billionaire returning yesterday."
"No man dictates my mood, Olivia," he said, his tone flat but pointed.
Olivia didn't flinch. "No, but this man does. I'm sure you're sick to your stomach at this point. His return's basically been the talk of the summit."
He turned to meet her eyes, his expression unreadable. "Unlike other women, you are a bit mouthy when you speak to me."
She smirked. "Yet you never attempt to shut me up."
Darren looked at her, lowered his gaze to he inviting lips before looking away.
Her smile remained, warm but knowing. "You're not as opaque as you think. Not to me, at least."
Darren returned to her gaze for a moment, then looked away. He didn't argue. "You should focus on finding your first portfolio company. The former one streaming service with subscription payment seemed solid."
He lifted his brow at her. "Don't you think?"
Olivia twisted her lip and gestured toward the North Stage, where a startup was wrapping up a presentation. "I'm looking for something similar to Delverate. Their demo is pulling attention presently. That smart analytics platform you helped them build? It's got VCs circling. They might close two or three deals before the day's out."
"I know," Darren said, his voice low. "Amelia sent me their updated pitch deck this morning."
Olivia's eyes lingered on him, searching. "You pulled them out of the fire, you know. That platform was dead in the water before you stepped in."
He stared out over the crowd, his jaw tight. "You're not attempting to flatter me, are you, Olivia?."
"Depends..." "...Are you flattered."
A beat of silence passed between them, heavy with unspoken history and the tension of their recent close proximity.
"I think you should go for the streaming service," Darren quickly shifted gears.
"I'll check them out," she agreed, sipping her champagne.
They stood there, continuing to watch the display of different startups, sampling their products and asking for capital.
But then, the rhythm shifted.
Two men approached, their presence slicing through the hum of the crowd.
They weren't staff, nor were they typical attendees. Their black suits were immaculate, the fabric catching the light with a subtle sheen, cuffs adorned with faint silver embroidery that spoke of bespoke craftsmanship.
There were no badges on the suits and they did not pretend to be authorities, rather they moved with it. People walked out of their way like they seemed to recognize who they were, and when Darren and Olivia turned, they were surprised to see men had stopped before them.
The taller of the two, his temples dusted with salt-gray, extended a gloved hand. In it was a slim, silver-edged envelope, sealed with a wax insignia bearing the crescent of Moon Enterprises.
"Mr. Steele," he said, his voice deep and smooth, carrying the weight of purpose. "Mr. Mooney requests your presence. A private supper, the date is on the letter."
Darren's brows creased slightly as he looked down at the envelope before deliberately taking it.
The man's gaze flicked to Olivia briefly, acknowledging her presence without addressing her.
"Details are also enclosed," the man continued. "And dscretion is expected."
With a curt nod, he and his companion turned and melted back into the crowd, their departure as seamless as their arrival.
Olivia gazed at the letter in Darren's hands and half-chuckled, gasping at the same time. "Did you just get invited to a dinner by the most powerful man in the state?"
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Sorry for the late update today!
But dear readers, the amount of golden tickets we have is abysmal 😭. Please, spend your shiny tickets on my baby! It helps the novel greatly.
