Chapter 2

Back at the small, shared office space I rented month-to-month in a less glamorous part of Midtown, the whispers started the moment I walked in. Colleagues averted their eyes, conversations died down. The news of my public dismissal from the Phoenix Tower project, or at least Liam Astor’s version of it, had clearly traveled fast. I felt the familiar sting of being an outcast, the one with the “scandal” attached to her name.

Liam Astor didn’t wait long. He strolled into my tiny cubicle without knocking, perching on the edge of my desk as if he owned the place. His expensive cologne filled the small space, suffocating. “Well, well, Ava Moreno. Back to the salt mines, are we? Or are you already packing your bags, looking for the next ‘opportunity’?” His voice was low, laced with a sneer that made my skin crawl. He was questioning not just my talent but my morals, my very character.

I took a deep breath, the pain a tight knot in my chest, but I met his gaze. “I’m still trying to figure out what your problem is with me, Liam. Did I steal your favorite toy in kindergarten?” My voice was sharper than I intended, defiance bubbling up.

He chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “My problem? My problem is you, buzzing around Julian like a persistent fly. He doesn’t need your kind of… distraction.” His tone was possessive, almost protective of Julian.

“Julian Sterling can fight his own battles, can’t he?” I shot back, a sarcastic edge to my words. “Or does the great Wolf of Wall Street need his little puppy to bark for him?”

“Stay away from him, Ava,” Liam said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, but the threat was unmistakable. “You’re not in his league. You never were.”

“Don’t worry, Liam,” I said, my voice firm. “The last thing I want is to be anywhere near Julian Sterling or his… associates. I have my own life to live, or what’s left of it after your little performance today.”

Liam’s eyes narrowed. “Your colleague, Veronica Bell, has been quite chatty. Apparently, your ambition at Apex was always aimed at getting back into Julian’s orbit. Using your old… connection.”

My stomach dropped. Veronica. Of course. She’d always been envious, always looking for a way to undermine me. My attempts to network at Apex, to build a legitimate career, were now being twisted into something sordid, a desperate ploy to get Julian’s attention. The unfairness of it was a bitter pill.

“I need you to leave the city, Ava,” Liam said, his voice suddenly cold and hard. An ultimatum. “Disappear. It’s better for everyone. Especially you.”

“Get out,” I said, my voice shaking with barely suppressed fury. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m disgusted by you, by Julian, by this whole damn city if it means dealing with people like you.”

Liam looked genuinely surprised for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “You know, for someone so… desperate, you’re surprisingly hard to figure out, Ava.” He stood up, smoothing his tie. “Consider this your only warning.”

The moment he left, Veronica Bell appeared in my doorway, her face a mask of fake sympathy. “Ava, darling, are you alright? I heard what happened at Grant. That Liam Astor can be such a brute.” She was fishing, trying to gauge my reaction, probably eager for more gossip.

“I’m fine, Veronica,” I said, my voice flat, refusing to give her anything. “Just another day at the office.”

Her smile tightened. “Well, Marcus asked me to give you this.” She handed me a thin file. “It’s a new client. A bit… unconventional, but he thought you might be interested, given your current… situation.” It felt like another setup, another dead-end project meant to humiliate me further.

I took the file. “Thanks.” What choice did I have? The Phoenix Tower was gone. My savings were dwindling. My mother’s MS wasn’t getting any cheaper. I had to take whatever came my way, even if it reeked of sabotage.

The meeting location for the new client, Councilman Thompson, was a private dining room at an overly opulent, old-school Italian restaurant in a shady part of town. Red velvet, dim lighting. It screamed ‘backroom deal.’ My assistant, a young intern named Sarah, looked visibly uncomfortable.

Councilman Thompson, a man in his late sixties with a predatory smile and eyes that roamed freely, greeted me with an oily handshake. “Ms. Moreno, a pleasure. I own this humble establishment. Please, make yourself comfortable.” His ‘humble establishment’ probably cost more than my entire yearly income.

I tried to steer the conversation to the supposed development project, laying out my initial design concepts. Sarah, bless her, tried to take notes, looking increasingly green.

Thompson waved a dismissive hand, a large gold ring glinting on his pinky. “Business later, my dear. First, we eat. A little wine? It helps the creative juices flow, no?” He was delaying, asserting his control, making it clear this wasn’t a standard professional meeting.

He poured me a large glass of red wine, his hand lingering a little too long near mine. The pressure to drink, to play along, was immense. “Sarah, dear,” Thompson said, turning to my assistant. “Could you be a doll and fetch my briefcase from the car? I seem to have forgotten it.” Sarah looked at me, hesitant, but I nodded. Better her out of here.

As soon as Sarah left, I discreetly turned on the voice recorder on my phone, sliding it under a napkin. I’d learned the hard way to anticipate the worst from men like Thompson.

He leaned in, his breath smelling of garlic and cheap cologne. “You know, Ava… a talented, beautiful woman like you… you could go far in this city. With the right… connections. I have a lot of influence over development permits. A word from me…” His meaning was crystal clear. Professional advancement in exchange for personal favors.

“Councilman,” I said, trying to keep my voice even, polite but firm. “I appreciate the offer, but I prefer my work to speak for itself. And I really should be getting back, my mother isn’t well.”

He chuckled, a low, unpleasant sound. “Oh, I’ve heard the rumors, my dear. About you and Sterling. About your time at Apex. Let’s be honest, a woman with your… reputation… can’t afford to be too picky about how she climbs the ladder. Clean professional work? That ship has sailed for you, hasn’t it?” His words hit hard. He was using the very rumors Julian and Liam had amplified against me. I was trapped.

I stood up, my legs feeling shaky. “I think this meeting is over.” “Oh, I don’t think so,” he said, his smile widening. “You’ll be back, Ava. They always come back. You need me more than you think.”

Sarah returned, flustered, briefcase in hand. I grabbed my purse and practically pulled her out of the restaurant. As we stumbled onto the sidewalk, gasping for fresh air, Julian Sterling’s black Bentley purred to a stop right in front of us. Coincidence? Or was he everywhere I went?