1 My fiancée seemed to forget I didn’t become her fiancé by luck. When she called me “polished” on our third anniversary, I knew—she’d fallen for that rugged intern. I watched them grow close and did nothing. I simply warned her before the engagement party: fire him, or it’s over. She hesitated and ran off. She returned later, a handprint faint on her cheek. “The engagement is on.” But at the altar, in her wedding gown, she froze when she saw me. “You’re not the man I want,” she said, trembling. She lifted her skirt and ran—right into Rhys, the intern, at the door. They clung together, kissing wildly, leaving me alone before the crowd. Phones lit up the church with flashes and laughter. In ten minutes, “CEO Jilted at Altar” trended everywhere. She wanted love? Fine. But was she ready for the cost? Thirty minutes later, Habsburg Corp. was collapsing. … My secretary burst into my office. "Mr. Blackwood, news of the Habsburg Corporation's capital chain snapping has hit the media. Their stock is in freefall." "If this continues, they'll start layoffs by tomorrow and declare bankruptcy within the week." "Too slow," I said, my voice flat. This was merely an appetizer. "I'll push them harder." As my secretary left, I looked at a news photo of Chloe Habsburg’s ecstatic face in Rhys's arms. I gave a short, self-deprecating laugh. I had given her a choice. She chose to lie. My reputation—Liam Blackwood's reputation—is worth billions. My finger tapped the screen of my tablet, swiping to the stock market app. The Habsburg Corporation's ticker was a sea of red. A notification popped up. It was Chloe. "Liam, you can't force feelings. Just because I won't marry you, you're going to destroy my family's company?" "If you ever loved me, you should be happy I've found true love. Can't we just part amicably?" Amicably? Why didn't she think of that before she made a spectacle of me? I swiped her message away and sent a text to my secretary. "Dig into Rhys. Everything." Ten minutes later, my phone lit up with his file. I studied it for a long moment, a ghost of a smile playing on my lips. A sharp knock came at my office door. Chloe strode in, her heels clicking on the marble floor. She slapped a file down on my desk. "Liam, I never realized how petty you could be." "This is your compensation. Let's consider the matter closed." I picked up the file. A stock transfer agreement. Ten percent of her family's failing company? A paltry three million dollars? She thought that could appease my fury? I let the papers flutter to the floor. "Is this a joke?" I sneered. "Are you trying to tip a beggar?" Her face hardened. "Don't be so greedy, Liam." With a flick of her hips, she turned to leave. At the door, she naturally linked her arm with Rhys, who had been waiting for her. They leaned in close, whispering, their lips almost touching. My phone buzzed. A message from my secretary. "The Habsburg Corporation has officially filed for bankruptcy." "Begin the acquisition," I texted back. I switched off the screen. Outside, the sky had grown heavy, and a soft rain began to fall. It was on a rainy day three years ago that I’d saved Chloe from an arranged marriage she’d desperately wanted to escape. She’d claimed it was love at first sight. She’d sworn she would never betray me. Now, it was clear she was not only disloyal but a fool. She wasn't fit to be my dog. My phone rang, the sound jarring in the quiet office. Chloe's voice, sharp and accusatory, cut through the silence. "It was you, wasn't it? Liam, I know you're doing this because you're hurt, but it only makes me despise you more! It proves I was right to leave you!" I set down my pen, my posture relaxed. "Ms. Habsburg, these are just normal market fluctuations. Why must you blame me for everything? As for being hurt…" I chuckled, my tone dripping with contempt. "You really do flatter yourself." There was a pause on the other end, then her voice came back, hoarse. "If you spare the company, I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you." I hung up. The Habsburg Corporation was finished. The only way she could make it up to me was to be reborn. But in a civilized society, I couldn't be quite so violent. My secretary entered again, his expression hesitant. "Sir, you should see what's happening online." I opened my browser. There was Chloe, weeping, her face a mask of tragic beauty. The headline read: "Groomed CEO's Dark Secret: 'He Has… Issues.'" The article was a thinly veiled hit piece. "Liam Blackwood seems perfect on the surface, but he's a deeply damaged man," she was quoted as saying. "Do you think I would give up being the wife of a CEO if our life together was even remotely bearable?" The rumors spread like locusts. A new text from her arrived. "Men care about their pride more than anything. Stop this attack on my family, and I'll clear your name." A smirk touched my lips. She was an idiot. The prize in my hand versus the buzzing of gnats. The choice was obvious to anyone but her. Only a fool would trade substance for reputation. I was about to leave for the Habsburg Corporation to finalize the acquisition when Rhys appeared at my office door. "Mr. Blackwood, stop tormenting Chloe! If you have a problem, take it out on me!" he declared dramatically. "It's all my fault. I'll pay with my life. I hope that after I'm gone, you'll be kinder to her." Before anyone could react, he scrambled onto the windowsill of my top-floor office. Employees in the hallway stopped, their faces a mixture of shock and morbid curiosity. My own face was a mask of ice. My corporate headquarters had become a circus. Who were these people who thought they could just walk in and put on a show? Sirens wailed from the street below. Police cars were already arriving. A crowd was gathering. Just then, the elevator doors opened and Chloe rushed out, a gaggle of reporters in her wake. The moment she saw me, she collapsed to her knees, tears streaming down her face. "Liam, please, let us go! I know you hate me, but Rhys is innocent!" "Yes, you're rich and powerful! You've already destroyed my family's company, isn't that enough?" she screamed. "My father is on the verge of a heart attack, my mother is in the hospital, and now you're going to drive Rhys to his death? Are you that heartless?" Phones were raised. Whispers filled the air. Even the reporters behind her looked at me with pity. One of them spoke up. "Mr. Blackwood, surely you can show some mercy." On social media, the hashtag #LiamBlackwoodTheBully was skyrocketing. I took a step forward, looking down at Rhys, who was still perched precariously on the ledge. "You really think I'm the one pushing you?" Rhys didn't answer, but a flash of triumph crossed his face as he leaned in and hissed, "It doesn't matter what I think. You're finished." He smirked. "Chloe chose me, even if it meant losing everything. How pathetic does that make you? If I were you, I'd have jumped long ago." I had no intention of jumping. But he, on the other hand, slammed his head against the window frame. Blood trickled from his temple. "Liam, your threats won't work!" he cried out, his voice trembling, his eyes red-rimmed. "Do you need to see me dead before you're satisfied?" Gasps erupted from behind me. Chloe, as if on cue, scrambled to her feet and lunged for the window. "If he dies, I die! Life has no meaning without Rhys!" Together, they tumbled out into the open air. Panic and screams filled the hallway. I walked to the window and looked down. A massive inflatable safety cushion had been deployed on the street below. They landed squarely in the middle of it. So that was their plan. No wonder they were so bold. The reporters went into a frenzy, their cameras flashing, livestream feeds focused on the two lovers embracing on the cushion below. How tragically beautiful. Star-crossed lovers. A testament to true love. Those became their labels. And I was the cold-blooded villain, the corporate monster who crushed them. Blackwood Holdings' stock began to slide. I was a pariah. Protesters gathered outside my building every day, throwing trash at my car whenever I came or went. My private residence was flooded with funeral wreaths sent by anonymous "well-wishers." Other tenants in my building demanded my eviction. My secretary was worried. "Sir, morale is plummeting. We're seeing a wave of resignations." I narrowed my eyes. "Let them go." A text from Chloe came through, dripping with smugness: "Scared yet? Apologize publicly, restore my family's company, and give me a billion dollars, and I might consider helping you." I tossed the phone onto my desk and ignored it. To think she could force my hand with such a cheap, pathetic melodrama was laughable. Even if Chloe Habsburg was ground to dust, Blackwood Holdings would not be affected in the slightest. Then, new photos surfaced online. Chloe, "escaping" after an alleged "kidnapping." Her hair was a mess, her clothes were torn, and she tearfully accused me of orchestrating it. She also posted a photo of Rhys, unconscious and covered in fake blood, with the caption: "Leave us alone, Liam! Take my life if you want, but don't you dare touch Rhys!" The public outrage exploded anew. The comments were a firestorm of people tagging the police, demanding an investigation into my "criminal empire." Amateur essayists wrote passionate screeds about the injustice of it all. At the next board meeting, the shareholders were restless. They demanded my temporary suspension. I leaned back in my chair, unruffled. "If I step down, who do you propose to take my place?" They exchanged uneasy glances. Finally, my own uncle, Marcus Blackwood, stood up. "Liam, the company needs a scapegoat. This all started with you. The honorable thing to do is resign." "As for the company," he added with false magnanimity, "I can manage things in your stead for a while." A cynical smile touched my lips. Before I could speak, a young woman stood. "If Blackwood Holdings refuses to distance itself from Mr. Blackwood's actions, I will be forced to take my division and secede from the parent company." The woman leading the revolt was none other than Chloe's best friend, Isabelle Reed. "I cannot, in good conscience, be a part of such a morally bankrupt enterprise," she declared. I stared at her, amused. If Chloe hadn't begged me on her knees, this woman, with her community college degree, would never have risen to her current position. She knew it, yet she put on this grand show of righteousness. The boardroom doors opened, and Chloe walked in, Rhys at her side. "Well, Mr. Blackwood? It's not too late to accept my terms," she said, her voice filled with triumph. "Get on your knees and apologize. If I'm in a good mood, I might even leave you with some pocket money." On the projector screen, our stock price continued to plummet. The shareholders grew more desperate. I pushed the papers on the table into a neat pile. "Are you finished?" I asked calmly. "Then it's my turn." Chloe stared at me, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. I pressed the enter key on my laptop.
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