Three weeks.

That was all that stood between Gray & Milton and the final presentation for the Meridian Development Initiative. The city buzzed with anticipation, boardrooms tightened their schedules, and every financial analyst in the region was running simulations twice over just to soothe their nerves.

At Gray & Milton, the atmosphere felt like a storm gathering before landfall. Departments were cross-checking projections, updating feasibility models, refining architectural pitches, sharpening legal loopholes—every piece had to be perfect. Even the interns had started walking faster in the hallways, as if time itself could be outpaced through sheer will.

But across the city, at Moreau Dynamics, the rhythm beat differently.

Lucien had been quieter lately. Focused, sharp, almost feverishly driven. Word around the upper floors was that he was preparing something big, something new, though no one knew exactly what. The Meridian Development Initiative had become one of Moreau Dynamics' largest competitive pursuits in years, and its pressure seeped through every level of the company. Late-night meetings, recalculated budgets, strategy sessions behind locked doors—everyone was tightening their game.

And yet, Lucien wasn't at work today.

He'd taken a personal afternoon, though his assistant assumed it was for rest. It wasn't.

He sat in a small but sleek lounge room on the twenty-fourth floor of the Argentum Exchange Tower, a skyscraper known for housing boutique financial firms and exclusive private investment groups. The room was tastefully minimalist—matte black shelving, polished marble flooring, and tall glass windows overlooking the river.

It gave the impression of wealth without needing to flaunt it.

Exactly the kind of environment designed to make any deal feel legitimate.

Across from him sat Mr. Benjamin.

Sharp suit. Calm smile. Silver cufflinks shaped like tiny chess pieces. A man who knew how to project success even when he wasn't speaking. His company's name was printed on the contract in Lucien's hands:

Vanguard Ark Investments

A Global Private Growth & Expansion Fund

A company with enough prestige to look trustworthy, and enough ambiguity to swallow anyone who didn't read between the lines.

Lucien read through the final page again, hands steady, though a small pulse beat quickly beneath his thumb. He had ambitions, ambitions that outgrew the shadow cast by his father and the brilliance of his sister. Benjamin had positioned Vanguard Ark as an opportunity beyond that shadow. A partnership that would allow Lucien to fund a project of his own, something outside Moreau Dynamics. Something that could finally prove him better than Celestia.

Better than the expectations that had suffocated him since childhood.

Benjamin watched him with an air of practiced patience, the kind of patience that was confident the decision was already made.

"You seem hesitant," Benjamin said lightly, crossing one leg over the other. "I assure you, Mr. Moreau, this agreement is mutually beneficial. Vanguard Ark provides capital and market support; you provide oversight and strategic direction. A clean partnership. Nothing complicated."

Lucien studied him.

Nothing complicated never meant nothing risky.

But the desire to rise, rise fast, rise independently, rise above, was louder.

"Three weeks until the Meridian Initiative presentations," Benjamin added, voice casual but sharp. "A very… strategic window for opportunities, wouldn't you say?"

Lucien didn't flinch, but something in him tightened.

"You're not investing in Meridian," Lucien said flatly.

"No." Benjamin's smile widened slightly. "We're investing in you."

It was the kind of line Lucien had waited years to hear.

He signed.

Benjamin's eyes gleamed in quiet victory as he slipped the contract back into a leather binder. "Welcome to Vanguard Ark, Mr. Moreau. I look forward to what we build together."

Lucien nodded, though a small weight settled in his chest, an unplaceable tension, something like stepping into the first shadow before a storm fully formed.

He pushed it aside.

This was his chance.

His.

Not Moreau Dynamics'.

Not Charlie's.

Not Celestia's.

His.

Benjamin stood, offering a handshake. Lucien accepted it.

"We'll be in touch with your first task soon," Benjamin said. "For now? Celebrate a little. You've taken your first major step."

Lucien managed a thin smile.

But as he walked out of the room, down the polished hallway, and toward the elevator, the city lights reflecting on the glass suddenly felt… distorted. Like the world outside was shifting at an angle he couldn't quite see yet.

Still, he straightened his shoulders.

Three weeks until Meridian's final presentation.

Three weeks until the city chose its winner.

Three weeks until he could finally prove them all wrong.

He pressed the elevator button.

And deep beneath the bravado, beneath the hunger for validation, a small whisper flickered—

Let them see. Let father see. Let Celestia see.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.

Lucien stepped inside.

And somewhere high above him, in a private lounge within Vanguard Ark Investments, Mr. Benjamin watched the city with a smile that meant one thing:

Lucien had just walked exactly where he wanted him.

---

The energy at Gray & Milton that afternoon was nothing like the tension simmering over at Moreau Dynamics. Here, the air carried a different kind of weight—busy, focused, but warm in a way only a team built on respect and genuine friendship could sustain.

We were gathered around the conference table, papers spread out like war maps. Phase II of the Meridian Development Initiative was nearly complete. "Nearly," of course, being the key word.

"Okay," Hale said, tapping the stack of printouts with his pen, "we're 93% ready for the second-phase submission. Seventy percent if we're being honest, thirty percent if we're being Noah."

Noah, who was quietly reviewing a cost breakdown on his tablet, slowly looked up.

"That was so unnecessary," he said.

Hale grinned. "And yet? Factual."

Noah blinked once. "…I hate this family."

"We love you too, buddy!" Tasha chirped, leaning back in her chair and tossing him a wink.

Noah made a face, but I didn't miss the slight upward tug at the corner of his mouth.

I glanced at the spreadsheet on my screen. "We can actually get that number up to ninety-five percent if we finalize the revised infrastructure allocation today."

"Can we?" Gabriel muttered from across the table. "Or does that depend on whether our dear engineer over there"—he pointed at Ji-ho—"finally stops fighting with the traffic-flow models?"

Ji-ho lifted his eyes, expression flat. "I'm not fighting with them. I'm negotiating with them."

"That's worse," Gabriel deadpanned.

"You know what?" Ji-ho pointed at Gabriel. "First of all? Rude. Second of all? Accurate. Third—"

Hale held up a hand. "Focus. We need to wrap Phase II in—what—ten days? Kai, where are we with the financial models?"

I swivelled the laptop slightly so they could all see. "Forecasts are solid. Variance dropped by two-point-four percent after the contractor revisions. Revenue projections for Years 3 to 7 stabilized. The only thing pending is that update on the site-access cost."

"That would be Noah," Gabriel said.

Noah didn't even look up. "Already did it."

"Wait—seriously?" Tasha asked.

"I emailed it twenty minutes ago." Noah replied still without looking up.

She blinked. "I take back all the slander."

"No, don't," Noah replied. "It motivates me."

Hale clapped once. "Great. Now, if we can keep this pace, we'll submit Phase II well before the deadline. That'll give us breathing room for adjustments."

Tasha stretched her arms. "I can't wait for breathing room. Haven't felt that since Phase I."

"Be grateful," Gabriel said. "Some of us handled the legal negotiations."

"You volunteered," Tasha shot back.

"Yes," Gabriel said dryly. "And every day since, I question all my life choices."

Ji-ho leaned toward me. "So dramatic."

"You're one to talk," Gabriel fired back instantly.

I chuckled under my breath. This was normal here—this controlled chaos, this teasing, this strange balance of productivity and humor. It reminded me of why I liked this company so much. Gray & Milton didn't just function; it worked like a heartbeat, each person essential.

"Okay," Hale said, pushing his chair back slightly, "let's run through the final revisions. Kai, start us off."

I did, walking them through line items, cost centers, projections, potential risks. Everyone chimed in where needed, offering corrections or suggestions. It was smooth. Efficient. Familiar.

By the time we hit the last section, even the joking died down—the room shifting subtly into its highest-functioning mode.

When we wrapped, it had been almost two hours.

Hale closed his folder with a soft thud. "Good work, everyone. If we keep this momentum, we'll crush the final presentation."

"And then we sleep?" Tasha asked hopefully.

"Exactly." Ji-ho said, pointing at Tasha.

Hale stood, smiling like a man who finally sees everything falling into place. "Alright, everyone. Take a half-hour break. Then let's reconvene and finalize the site logistics report."

Chairs shifted. Papers collected. Laptops closed.

Tasha left the room talking about pastries. Gabriel walked out muttering about legal clauses. Ji-ho was already typing something on his tablet as he followed them. Noah lingered behind with me for a moment, staring at the diagrams.

"That adjustment you suggested," he said quietly, "lowered the variance more than expected."

"Good," I said. "If you want, after the break we can comb through the risk model one more time."

He nodded once. "Yeah. Let's do that."

Then he slipped out.

I remained for a moment, letting the room settle into silence.

This team worked differently from most. Moreau Dynamics was powerful—unquestionably—but Gray & Milton had heart. A strange, cohesive loyalty that made even long nights feel like something meaningful.

I packed my laptop and headed toward my desk, passing the glass wall where the city stretched far beyond us. Three weeks until the final presentation. Three weeks until everything shifted, win or lose.

Three weeks until the Meridian Development Initiative decided the future of multiple corporations... including the one Val worked for.

And somewhere else in this same city, Lucien Davis Moreau was making moves that would ripple farther than he could possibly predict.

I exhaled slowly.

He has no idea what's coming. None of them do.

I didn't either, but something in the back of my mind buzzed with warning.

The final stretch was beginning. And every choice, every mistake, every quiet deal in a polished office that looked too perfect… would soon matter.

---

To be continued...

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