The Grand Ballroom smelled of expensive perfume, champagne, and fear.
When Su-yin entered, the room didn't just go quiet; it froze. In her midnight velvet dress, she moved through the crowd not like a woman seeking forgiveness, but like a predator inspecting her territory.
"Eyes forward," she whispered to Julian. "Do not flinch."
Their first obstacle materialized almost immediately. Marcus Vane, the 'Glutton,' stepped into their path. He was holding a scotch, his face flushed with alcohol and malice.
"Well, well," Vane boomed, his voice carrying over the polite chatter. "If it isn't the Black Widow of Tech. I'm surprised you showed your face, Elena. Are you here to find a new sponsor? Or just to drag the rest of us down into the gutter with you?"
A few people chuckled nervously. Vane smirked, thinking he had won.
Su-yin stopped. She looked at Vane's shoes, then up to his stained tie, and finally his eyes. She didn't look angry; she looked bored.
"Mr. Vane," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "You are spilling your drink."
Vane looked down. He wasn't, but the reflex made him look foolish.
"A man who cannot hold his liquor should hardly be trusted to hold a portfolio," Su-yin continued, stepping around him as if he were a piece of furniture. "Move aside. You are blocking the view of the important men."
Vane sputtered, turning red, but the crowd was already whispering. She hadn't defended herself; she had dismissed him as irrelevant.
Su-yin didn't stop. She made a beeline for the VIP booth where Henry Sterling sat. The old man looked up, his expression hardening.
"Elena," Sterling said coldly, not standing up. "I didn't think you would come. If you're here to beg for the funding, save your breath. I don't back scandals."
"I do not beg, Lord Sterling," Su-yin replied, taking the seat opposite him without being asked. "I am here to offer you a warning."
"A warning?"
"You pride yourself on integrity," she said, leaning forward. "You tell the world you are a man of tradition. Yet, at the first sign of a storm, you abandon your partner to the sharks. If you cut funding to Vance Tech tonight, the market will not see a 'moral stand.' They will see a coward who panics when the wind blows."
Sterling's eyes narrowed. "I am protecting my investment."
"You are devaluing it," she corrected. "Stick with me, and I will make you the man who stood by a genius when the world turned its back. Abandon me, and you lose everything. Choose your legacy."
Before Sterling could respond, a shadow fell over the table.
"A compelling argument," a smooth, baritone voice interrupted.
Su-yin turned. Gabriel Cross stood there. He was taller than Julian, impeccably dressed, with eyes that held a dangerous intelligence. The Rival.
"Gabriel," Julian stiffened, stepping closer to Su-yin.
"Elena," Gabriel nodded, ignoring Julian. "Sterling is right to worry. The ship is sinking. But I'm a generous man. I'm prepared to buy Vance Tech. Tonight. I'll take the assets, the staff, and the headache off your hands."
He placed a hand on the table, smiling arrogantly. "It's the only way to save your legacy."
Su-yin studied him. She tilted her head, analyzing the threat.
"You wish to annex my kingdom," she stated.
"I wish to acquire a failing asset," Gabriel corrected.
"Tell me, Mr. Cross," Su-yin asked softly. "Your house... Nexus Corp... you sell consumer gadgets, do you not? Phones? Watched for children?"
"We are a lifestyle brand," Gabriel said defensively.
"And my house serves the Iron Banks," Su-yin countered. "We provide security for the treasuries. My loyal customers are not teenagers; they are the vaults of this nation."
She stood up, facing him toe-to-toe.
"If you take my company, what do you have? You have a building. You have desks. But you do not have the trust of the Banks. They buy my service. They trust my hand. If you switch the banner to 'Nexus,' do you think the Banks will stay? Or will they flee from a 'Lifestyle Brand' trying to guard their gold?"
Gabriel's smile faltered. "We have the engineers to maintain the product."
"Do you?"
Julian stepped forward. This was his moment. He adjusted his glasses, looking Gabriel dead in the eye.
"Actually, you don't," Julian said, his voice dropping an octave, sharp and professional.
Gabriel looked at the secretary, annoyed. "Excuse me?"
"Elena's security kernel isn't standard," Julian said, gaining confidence as he spoke the language of code. "She built the core architecture herself using the latest generation of IBM quantum-safe protocols. It's custom. It's a labyrinth. Your engineers wouldn't even know how to read the documentation, let alone patch it."
Gabriel stiffened.
"And here is the thing about banking clients," Julian continued, stepping up beside Su-yin, presenting a united front. "They care about safety, not hype. They trust Elena's code. Even if you buy the company... if Elena leaves, the code dies. She can walk out of here, start a new company tomorrow called 'Phoenix,' and rebuild the exact same system under a different banner. Every single bank will cancel your contract and follow her within a week."
Su-yin smiled. She didn't know what 'IBM' was, but she knew the sound of a checkmate.
"You see, Mr. Cross," Su-yin purred, brushing a piece of invisible dust from Gabriel's lapel. "You are trying to buy a singer's voice by purchasing her throat. It does not work that way."
She turned back to Henry Sterling, who was watching the exchange with wide eyes.
"So, Lord Sterling," Su-yin said. "You can sell to the Vulture, who will crash the company in a month because he cannot operate the machine. Or you can keep your coin with the only woman who holds the keys to the vault."
She extended her hand.
"What say you?"
For a long moment, Henry Sterling did not take her hand.
Around them, the Grand Ballroom seemed to hold its breath. Conversations slowed. Glasses hovered halfway to lips. People pretended not to stare while missing nothing.
Sterling leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. His gaze moved—not to Su-yin, but outward. To the room. To the watching investors. To the reporters hovering at the perimeter like carrion birds, hoping for blood.
"You're asking me," he said carefully, "to ignore public perception."
"I am asking you," Su-yin replied, unflinching, "to shape it."
Sterling's jaw tightened. "You're accused of impropriety. Of recklessness. Of—"
"—of being inconvenient," Su-yin cut in softly. "Of not breaking quietly."
A few heads turned at that.
Sterling studied her now with fresh eyes. Not as a liability—but as a variable he had miscalculated.
"You know," he said slowly, "every advisor I have told me to cut you loose tonight. They said the market wants a sacrifice."
"And you?" Su-yin asked.
He exhaled through his nose. "I dislike mob justice."
She nodded once. "As do kings."
The word lingered between them—not declared, not denied.
Across the room, Marcus Vane was watching them openly now, scotch forgotten in his hand. Gabriel Cross had gone very still, his earlier confidence calcifying into calculation. He was already running contingency paths in his head—and finding them narrowing.
Sterling leaned forward.
"If I stand with you," he said, voice low, "the press will say I endorsed the scandal."
"They will say," Su-yin corrected, "that you endorsed competence."
"And if you fail?" he pressed.
"Then history will call you loyal," she said calmly. "Men survive failure. They do not survive cowardice."
Silence.
Then—slowly—Henry Sterling reached out and took her hand.
The contact was brief, formal, but unmistakable.
"I will not announce my withdrawal tonight," he said. "And tomorrow, I will release a statement reaffirming my confidence in Vance Tech's leadership—conditional on results."
A murmur rippled through the nearby tables. Phones discreetly lit up. Somewhere, a journalist's narrative collapsed mid-sentence.
Su-yin inclined her head. "You shall have them."
Sterling stood at last, signaling the end of the exchange. "See that I do."
As he walked away, Julian realized he had been holding his breath.
Gabriel Cross straightened slowly, masking irritation behind a polished smile.
"Well played," he said to Su-yin, voice tight. "Enjoy your stay at the top. Gravity has a way of remembering us all."
She regarded him with mild curiosity. "Then you should worry," she said. "You built your empire on lightness."
His smile faltered for half a second too long.
Julian stepped forward—not aggressively, but deliberately, placing himself just slightly ahead of Su-yin now. The signal was subtle, but clear.
Audience over.
Gabriel gave a short laugh and raised his hands in mock surrender. "Another time, then."
"Perhaps," Su-yin said. "If you are still standing."
He left without another word.
Only when the immediate circle dispersed did Julian feel the tremor in his hands. He flexed them, grounding himself.
"You did it," he murmured. "You actually did it."
Su-yin exhaled slowly, the smallest crack appearing in the armor.
"The battle," she said, "was never about survival."
She glanced across the ballroom—at the whispering investors, the recalibrating alliances, the sudden caution in eyes that had come expecting her execution.
"It was about reminding them who sets the terms."
Julian watched her—not the persona, not the Queen, but the woman wielding both with terrifying precision.
As the orchestra resumed and conversation cautiously returned, one truth settled across the Grand Ballroom like a verdict:
Elena Vance was not finished.
She had simply chosen the battlefield.