NOVPUBLater that day, still in the afternoon, the black company car glided to a stop along the polished curb of Fifth Avenue, its engine purring softly before falling silent.
Rachel Teschmacher stepped out, adjusting the strap of her leather satchel. The late spring sun bathed the street in golden light, reflecting off the towering glass storefronts that lined this exclusive stretch of Los Alverez.
Zovari's, the city's premier tailoring house, a haven for senators, tech titans, and foreign dignitaries who demanded nothing less than perfection, waited for her.
So, Rachel pushed through the glass door, greeted by a soft chime and she entered. A wave of cool air enveloped her, carrying the rich, layered scents of cedarwood, bergamot, and the faint, crisp musk of freshly pressed silk.
The lounge was filled with expensive clothes here and there, buttons of gold, costly leather, gold-bottled perfumes.
A bespoke attendant, impeccably dressed in a charcoal vest, stood behind a polished walnut counter. He glanced up, offering a practiced smile. "Welcome to Zovari's, Miss Teschmacher. Here for Mr. Steele's order?"
Rachel returned a polite nod, brushing a stray auburn strand behind her ear. "Yes, the Kiton. Is it ready?"
"Of course. It's being finalized now. Please, make yourself comfortable."
She sank into one of the buttery leather couches near the center of the lounge, crossing her legs and waited.
There, all she could think about was Darren. The man who used to look at her like she was his anchor. The one who was so passionate with her. Who had shared almost everything, even their bodies...
... In the most ruest of places.
Now? He was a fortress, his thoughts locked behind a wall of ambition and secrets. Rachel exhaled, her fingers tightening around the edge of her satchel. Was this change in him permanent? Had the man she loved slipped away for good?
She hoped not. Thankfully, she had still seen traces of him even that morning.
"Rachel?"
The voice sliced through her reverie, soft but unmistakable. Rachel's head snapped up, and her breath caught as she met a pair of familiar bright eyes.
Lily Smithers stood at the entrance of the lounge, her silhouette framed by the sunlight pouring through the glass door.
She looked different; subtler, somehow. The razor-sharp edge that once defined her was gone, replaced by a quiet weariness. Her cream blazer clung to her slim frame, her blond hair pulled into a low, practical knot.
Despite what had happened to her and her father two months ago, she was still striking, but the fire in her eyes had dimmed, softened by time or regret.
"Lily," Rachel said, rising slowly. Her voice was cool but not unkind, threaded with a cautious curiosity. "It's you... Been a while."
Lily's lips curved into a faint, tired smile. "Yes, been a minute hasn't it?" she said shyly. "You look… good. Settled."
Rachel tilted her head, studying her. "I could say the same about you. What are you doing now? How's your father?"
Lily nodded anxiously, stepping closer. "My father traveled. He left me in the hands of a friend... at least. I work as one of the many assistants to Archibald Mooney. And his son, Tyler. The change has been demanding, but…" She trailed off, her gaze flickering to the side. "It gives me something to do."
Rachel looked away, her own memories stirring. She knew that things surely hadn't been easy for Lily, even though she might have brought some of it on herself.
But Rachel wondered, if only working for Gareth Smithers had left her so imprisoned and unable to do anything, how would it be being a daughter to him?
Rachel realized that she had never thought of it that way.
Yet, at the same time, she'd seen what Lily did to Darren, how it hardened him. Even though Lily had been caught in the same storm, it was still her doing.
"I'm happy you're doing fine, Lily."
Lily smiled. "I'm happy you are too."
They both stared at each other for a moment before the attendant returned, a plastic-wrapped suit draped carefully over his arm. "Miss Smithers, your order. Midnight charcoal, for Mr. Tyler Mooney."
Lily's expression shifted back to professionalism as she took the suit, her fingers brushing the fabric lightly. "Thank you." She looked at Rachel. "It's for a seminar this evening. Tyler's presenting."
Rachel raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at her lips. "For Tyler, huh? That's unfortunate."
Lily's smile warmed, just a fraction. "I know, but he's not as bad as he seems. We were in college together, you know. He's… manageable."
The attendant returned again, this time with a second suit, its silver-gray fabric catching the light like liquid steel. "Miss Teschmacher, the Steele order. The Kiton, as requested."
Rachel stepped forward to accept it, the weight of the suit grounding her. She glanced at Lily, who was watching the exchange with a thoughtful expression.
As Rachel draped the suit over her arm, Lily leaned in slightly, her nostrils flaring as she caught a faint, familiar scent clinging to the fabric— it smelled like Creed Aventus.
She remembered that Darren had also had a thing for cologne and perfumes. Even when he didn't have money to buy any.
Her lips parted, and for a fleeting moment, her eyes softened with something like longing.
"It's for Darren?" Lily asked gently.
"Yeah."
"Oh." Her gaze lowered. "How's he doing?"
Rachel thought about it. "The stress of a young CEO is getting to him but he's fine."
Lily then turned to leave. "Okay then. Goodbye, Rachel. Please wish him luck for me. For the meeting."
Rachel's brow furrowed, her grip tightening on the suit. "You know he has a meetup?"
Lily hesitated, her gaze flickering with something like surprise. "Oh yes? Mr. Mooney invited him. Private supper tonight. To discuss… business."
"Mr. Mooney as in Archibald? Not Tyler?"
"Yes." Lily nodded enthusiastically.
Rachel's lips parted, a jolt of realization hitting her. "You're sure?" 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝒑𝙪𝒃.𝒄𝒐𝙢
"Of course. I arranged the correspondence myself."
With that, she continued towards the glass door, her heels clicking. The chime rang out as she stepped into the sunlight, leaving Rachel standing alone, the suit heavy in her arms.
Her mind raced. A meeting with Archibald Mooney? So that was why he seemed so worked off after the summit.
Not too far from there, Tyler Mooney reclined in his executive chair, the sleek leather creaking faintly as he propped his polished loafers on the edge of his obsidian desk.
He was in his new office, one that he was starting to greatly enjoy. A crystal ashtray held an unlit cigar, its rich, earthy scent curling through the air like a whispered threat.
Across from Tyler sat Amir Singh and Jaxon Daniels, their tailored suits crisp but their postures rigid. Amir, with his sharp jaw and meticulous demeanor, tapped a pen against his knee. Jaxon, broader and more relaxed, leaned back in his chair, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.
Between them, on the desk, lay a single contract, its pages crisp and untouched. A gold-plated pen gleamed beside it, catching the light like a blade.
The coordinator of the Expansion Event was waiting.
Tyler grinned "So, this is it, gentlemen. Trendteller's big moment. The expansion seminar." He leaned forward, his voice dripping with mock reverence. "Darren Steele's golden ticket to the big leagues."
Jaxon let out his own grin. "They've filed the application. Every startup mentor in the city's watching. The press, too. If it clears, their valuation could double overnight. New investors, new markets."
Amir adjusted his glasses. "It's almost worrying how much momentum they've got. Digital licenses, blockchain patents, that AI they're touting. It's a tight package."
Tyler let out a sharp laugh, the sound echoing off the glass walls. "Tight? Sure. But not bulletproof." He swung his legs off the desk, leaning forward with a glint in his eye. "Steele thinks he's untouchable because he's got a few crypto coins and a fancy algorithm. But he's playing checkers. We're playing chess."
He tapped the contract with a manicured finger. "And we've got a new piece on the board. Richard Morrison."
Amir shook his head. "Still can't believe he's in."
"Oh, he's in," Tyler said, his grin widening. "Media, biotech, private security— he's got his fingers in every pie that matters. And he's backing us to make sure Steele crashes and burns."
Jaxon leaned forward, his voice low. "So we block the application? Delay the clearance?"
Tyler's eyes gleamed. "Delay? No, no. We don't delay. We destroy. Phantom compliance checks to tie them up in red tape. Push the application past the deadline. Leak a few whispers to the press about 'ethical concerns' with their AI. Get the regulators sniffing around. And when Steele inevitably loses his cool…" He paused, savoring the moment. "We paint him as unhinged. Unprofessional. Done."
Amir smirked, a rare crack in his stoic facade. "That's cold."
Tyler chuckled, leaning back and crossing his fingers. "Oh oh, my friend, Amir. That's only the beginning of Darren's downfall."
