The Art of War

(Seraphine’s POV)

The city never sleeps. Neither do I.

From my office on the 40th floor, the skyline stretches endlessly, neon lights flickering like distant stars. I watch them, fingers tapping rhythmically against my desk, the only sound in the cavernous room aside from the faint hum of my computer.

The world outside is alive—rushing, burning, thriving. I should feel something. Excitement. Accomplishment. Maybe even satisfaction. Instead, there’s just the familiar weight pressing against my chest. A quiet, suffocating sort of emptiness.

I glance at the time. 11:47 PM.

I should go home. But what’s the point? My penthouse is nothing but a colder, quieter version of this office. The same pristine white walls, the same floor-to-ceiling windows, the same suffocating silence.

So I stay.

The email I’ve been dreading sits open on my screen. Vale Industries – Proposal for Acquisition Review.

Elias Vale.

I exhale slowly, my grip tightening around the edge of my desk. Of course, it’s him. It’s always him. Every deal, every negotiation, every high-stakes meeting—he’s always on the other side, waiting with that infuriating smirk, ready to tear me apart piece by piece.

For years, our rivalry has been a game of precision. Calculated strikes. Public clashes. Every boardroom meeting a battlefield, every press conference a war of carefully measured words. It’s exhausting, but I refuse to lose.

A sharp knock at my office door pulls me from my thoughts.

“Come in.” My voice is steady, impassive. A mask I’ve perfected.

My assistant, Claire, steps inside, looking hesitant. “Ms. Ashford… Mr. Vale is here to see you.”

I blink. Now?

Claire shifts uncomfortably. “He said it’s urgent.”

Of course, he did.

I take a slow breath, forcing down the irritation curling in my chest. This is what Elias does—pushes boundaries, steps into my space, makes sure I know he’s always one step ahead.

“Send him in,” I say, straightening in my chair. If he wants a fight, I’ll give him one.

Seconds later, Elias strides into my office like he owns the place.

Tall. Sharp suit. The air of someone who never doubts he belongs. He’s the kind of man who walks into a room and shifts the gravity. Effortless. Overpowering. Infuriating.

His gaze sweeps over me, assessing, before he smirks. “Working late again, Ashford?”

I don’t bother with a response. Instead, I lean back in my chair, leveling him with a cold stare. “What do you want, Vale?”

He places a file on my desk. “We need to talk. Now.”

I don’t reach for it. Instead, I watch him, searching for the angle, the trap he’s setting. Elias doesn’t do unplanned visits. He moves with intent.

I don’t know what he’s after this time, but I do know one thing—I won’t make it easy for him.

End of Chapter 1

Next chapter title - 'The games begin'

stay tuned

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