An uncomfortable silence hung over the Montague estate’s drawing room where Caspian stood, fists clenched, looking down at a small stack of printed messages on the low table. On each page, Talia’s exchanges with Sterling Price were rendered in stark detail: brief, coded texts rich with subtle cues regarding meeting times and hush deals and critical intel passed back and forth over the course of many months. Talia, hovering by the fireplace, could feel his rage emanate even from the other side of the room. The documents were out in the open now — out where no more cloaking the uncomfortable truth.
“Explain,” Caspian said, his voice quaking somewhere over the line between furious and heartbroken. His sleep-deprived countenance had the effect of amplifying his sense of treachery. “You’ve been working with Sterling? Feeding him morsels of our family’s vulnerabilities?” The tremor in his tone pierced sharper than any shout could. Guilt twisted inside Talia, and she swallowed.
She let out a shaky breath, holding his gaze. “It was Sterling who cornered me,” she said, her voice low, each word heavy with shame. “He vowed that if I didn’t share strategic information, I’d ruin whatever slim shot I had of doing well in the company. Me — at first, I was thinking he just wanted to test Soren’s power. But it escalated.” Her voice caught on regret, remembering every morsel of inside information she had relayed in exchange for false promises of safety.
Caspian’s eyes flashed. “You provided him ways to sabotage me,” he accused, struggling to keep his volume in check. “After all that — my near collapse, the fiasco with Celeste — you slotted Sterling under our radar?” The stress added furrows to his brow. “You put our family at risk, Talia.” He looked back at the evidence, nails digging into his palm.
She stepped forward, desperation in her voice. “I didn’t realize until too late how cunning he is. When I first noticed that Soren and Sterling were forming an alliance, I attempted to backpedal—redirect the flow of information to them and feed them disinformation instead, which might spare you any further damage. Look at the last messages.” She scrambled for the pages outlining false leads she planted, eyes beseeching him for understanding. “I never wanted to betray you.
He laughed bitterly and turned away to hide the pain moving across his face. “This fiasco with Soren — did that not teach you anything about letting these men manipulate you?” She opened her mouth, words at the tips of her tongue, but there was no stopping the chill from his condemnation. By the time he turned back, his face had hardened. “I don’t know if I can believe a single word that comes out of your mouth.”
Talia’s throat clenched, tears closed. She had been braced for anger, but the quiet disappointment in his eyes felt like a deeper knife wound. Caspian marked the pages of his book, levelling a hard stare. “If I discover one more secret,” he said softly, “you will lose everything.” Then he snatched up his coat, trembling hands, and he left storming away, leaving Talia by herself in the muted blue light of the drawing room, the lingering smell of tension fizzing in the air. She remained still and the silent watcher of family ties that she herself may have severed.
The estate’s library was oppressive even with its regal decor — shelves filled with leather-bound volumes, a tall ceiling topped with a stained-glass dome. Talia sat there, hopelessly thumbing through old accounts and records in a misguided effort to distract herself. But her eyes passed over the text in vain. The argument with Caspian sicked through her mind; each harsh word a knife wound, the more she replayed it, the worse it cut.
Someone is interrupting her one feeble attempt at peace with loud footsteps. Roman stepped inside, shoulders hiked with urgency, slight trails of vexation lining the brackets of his mouth. “We have to talk,” he said brusquely, crossing the room to confront her. She caught the same cocktail of hurt and exasperation in his eyes that she had seen in Caspian’s. Her heart twisted with guilt. Of all people, Roman had been her ally, establishing a bond of trust while so they attempted to outmanoeuvre Soren and Sterling’s schemes.
She snapped the ledger shut, her voice low. “I take it you heard about my… communications.” Roman’s expression hardened, though sadness flashed under the rage. “I’ve been in the dark, Talia. This was a team uncovering Soren’s sabotage. And now I hear you were messaging with Sterling?” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “If you lied to me, how do I know anything you’ve said to me is true?”
Pain stabbed her chest, but she fought to stay calm. “I was scared,” she told me, her voice quaking. “Sterling said I had to feed him intel, or he would take back everything I’d worked for her. Then I found out he was arranging for an even worse plot — he wants Hayes Enterprises for himself, with a puppet of his own that he’s running.” She paused, allowing Roman to grasp the significance. “He believes that if Soren stumbles, he’s going to swoop in to take advantage of the power vacuum.”
Adrenaline buzzing in his veins, Roman cursed, realizing Starling’s ambition. “That means he’ll do whatever,” he said grimly. “Pit Caspian against Celeste, give the press any scandal. He doesn’t give a damn who he destroys.” Talia nodded, tears sparkling in her eyes. “Exactly. But I pivoted — started giving him false tidbits, anything to buy some time. I would never have done that to Caspian or to you, I swear.”
Roman’s anger transformed into a tentative empathy. He saw through her shaking stance into the desperation. “He’s going to put Caspian and Celeste against each other soon?” he pressed. Talia closed her eyes, remembering Sterling’s cryptic last words: Caspian’s fake love will disappear the moment I reveal the real truth to him. “Yes,” she whispered. “He’s getting up for a final showdown. If all goes to plan, Caspian collapses, Celeste’s name is mud, and Sterling wins the company by cajoling the board.’
Roman released a long breath, his hands balling into fists. “We have to warn them. Expose Sterling’s plan before it’s too late. Talia nodded, guilt and resolve waging war in her heart. “Please … let me make it right”, she pleaded gently. Roman met her gaze, not sure if he wanted to give her the trust she asked for. But the stakes were too high to turn down the assistance of any ally. They exited the library not as foes but as allies, a resumption of their broken alliance that, although tenuous at best, was the only hope of standing between Caspian and Celeste from the coup de grâce Sterling had primed.
As dusk fell, shadows stretched across the skyline, adorning the façade of Hayes Enterprises in shades of silver and blue. In the executive penthouse of a neighbouring high-rise, camera lights blazed against a makeshift TV backdrop. Soren eased into a plush chair, posture impeccably erect, across from a national political figure notorious for inflammatory statements. The flash of lenses documented their hand-shaking for the cameras, creating the semblance of an image of restored power. The whole scene was streamed live, gaining unprecedented attention on social media.
In a custom charcoal suit, Soren exuded calm certainty as if he hadn’t been ousted by force from his own empire. The senator, a political ally known for courting big business, introduced him with effusive praise: “A misunderstood titan who created Hayes Enterprises from scratch.” Soren gave a polite smile and leaned into the microphone. “I like this evaluation there,” he said in an almost warm tone. “Some factions have cast me as the villain, but the firm’s true threat comes from inexperience and scandal.”
Viewers from across the city and beyond turned in, starved for further drama in the continuing Montague saga. In a dimly lit lounge in the basement of Hayes Enterprises, employees huddled around a television. Some reacted with outrage, others rapt attention, as Soren wove a tale in which he was the rightful visionary betrayed by his own son’s emotional chaos and misplaced loyalties to Celeste. He never outright attacked Caspian, but each carefully selected word was a dagger: “We need steadier minds, not rash fantasies.”
At that moment, Talia hovered in the hallway, phone in hand, horror twisting her features. She knew this senator: a sly sorting of public and private interests into endorsements and favours. Through the thin haze of talk-show civility, Soren and his partner threatened to delay each of Caspian’s corporate reforms, framing him as a threat to the economy.
In the top-floor suite, Caspian watched the broadcast from behind his desk, his skin prickling with anxiety. Celeste stood by him, hands clasped, just as tense. “He’s winning them over,” she whispered, her voice taut with dread. “They’re referring him to the stable alternative. If they see widespread political support for Soren, the board may rethink its decision to oust him.” Caspian’s jaw tightened. Every inch of progress, every plank of his freshly self-created leadership—under threat from one broadcast.
Soren delivered his coup de grace — polished sincerity, end of that televised conversation’s final segment: “Hayes Enterprises needs leadership that would not be compromised by scandal and manipulation.” The words crashed over Caspian like a physical blow, filling the empty suite as if he’d broken to the surface of the water. Celeste inhaled, rage setting fire to her eyes. “How dare he call us manipulative?” she spat. Caspian kept quiet, fury burning inside him. He understood Soren’s cunning: he was casting himself as the cool-headed patriarch, whereas Caspian came off as the wild one in the public eye.
Soren’s new alliance with a powerful senator had tanked their momentary deathly victory. Another wave of conflict waved at the horizon, threatening to drown Caspian’s reforms if the war didn’t find a way to counter this dangerous political support.