London. Midnight.
The top floor of the Vale Tower was a study in excess disguised as elegance. Italian marble, antique gold fixtures, oil paintings older than the building itself-but the tech running behind the walls was newer than the next quarter's future.
Damian Vale stood alone, facing a digital display of market trends, security profiles, and strategic maps that looked more military than corporate.
Behind him, the room slowly filled.
His inner circle was small. Hand-picked. Unshakably loyal-or easily disposed of. Tonight, only three joined him: Selene-his chief of strategy, Kaito-former MI6 and current head of operations, and Luc Renard-a French media baron with a morally flexible empire.
"She's harder than expected," Selene said without preamble. "Even the press can't touch her without it backfiring."
"Which is why," Damian said, not turning around, "we don't attack her. Not yet."
Kaito frowned. "Then what's the next step?"
Damian finally faced them, his expression smooth as glass.
"Intimacy."
Luc raised a brow. "So the rumors are true. You plan to seduce her?"
Damian smiled faintly. "Not seduce. Align."
He walked to the center of the room, tapping the console embedded in the glass table. Alina's profile filled the screen: press photos, speech clips, financial reports, even footage from private board meetings.
"She's structured. Obsessively controlled. Her power comes from precision and trust. So we give her exactly what she's never had-something that feels like certainty... but isn't."
Selene narrowed her eyes. "You'll become her anchor."
"Her mirror," Damian corrected. "And once she leans on me-just enough-I'll have access to everything. Her decisions. Her vulnerabilities. Her company."
Luc chuckled. "It's almost romantic."
"It's war," Damian replied coolly.
---
Later: Damian's Private Quarter
The room was a stark contrast to the public face of the tower-cold, minimalist, almost sterile. No photos. No clutter. No trace of who Damian Vale had once been. Because that person no longer existed.
He poured a drink but didn't touch it. Instead, he stared at a wall-mounted display looping footage from the gala. Alina. Smiling. Powerful. Untouchable.
For now.
He watched the moment where Jesse appeared beside her-interrupting, claiming space.
A flicker of disdain crossed Damian's face.
He tapped the image. Zoomed in on Jesse.
"Find out what she sees in him," he murmured to the empty room. "And what it'll take to make her question it."
He leaned back into the shadows, smiling to himself.
"Everyone breaks. Even queens."