The name Blackwood Holdings burned on Ava's screen long after she closed the email.
She didn't sleep that night.
Instead, she sat on the edge of her bed, thoughts racing, hands clenched in her lap. Of all the companies in the world, of all the possible mergers Easton could pursue—it had to be Damien Blackwood's.
The same man who watched her father's empire crumble without lifting a finger.
She felt the old ache crawl back—cold, bitter, unwelcome. It had taken years to bury it. Now it was rising again like a ghost with sharp teeth.
By morning, Ava had made a decision.
She wasn't running. Not this time.
Two days later, the Easton Media executive team gathered around the polished oak table. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut.
"The Blackwood proposal is under review," said Marla Greaves, Easton's board chair. "If approved, it'll mean a major capital infusion and expanded international reach."
Ava sat near the end of the table, silent, her spine straight, her jaw tight.
Marla glanced her way. "Ava, you'll be the point person on public communications and post-merger messaging. You're our strongest voice. We need you."
Ava nodded once. Her hands stayed folded on the table. Calm. Controlled.
Not one word about her connection to Damien Blackwood. Not yet.
Let them play their hand first.
She waited until the meeting ended, then stopped Marla at the door.
"This isn't a merger," Ava said evenly. "It's a takeover."
Marla sighed. "Don't be dramatic."
"He's not here to help Easton," she pressed. "He's here to own it. You know his record."
"I know he gets results. And we need results. This company's still on thin legs, Ava. The board won't pass on a deal that saves us—no matter who signs the check."
A pause.
Marla lowered her voice. "You've done great things here. But this is bigger than personal feelings. Understood?"
Ava swallowed the bitter taste rising in her throat. "Understood."
That afternoon, a black envelope was delivered to Ava's office.
She opened it slowly.
Blackwood Holdings invites you to the 10th Annual Future Tech Charity Gala.
Location: The Halstead Hotel.
Date: Saturday, 7:30 p.m.
Dress Code: Formal.
Recipient: Ava Sinclair, Easton Media Group.
Her heart kicked hard in her chest.
This was it. The first move. The battlefield.
Julian knocked once and walked in, holding coffee. He saw the invite in her hands and frowned.
"You're going?"
"I have to."
"You don't have to walk into his world."
Ava looked up at him, her voice steady. "He walked into mine first."
Julian hesitated, then set the coffee on her desk. "Just… be careful. People like him? They don't play fair."
She nodded once. "That's fine. Neither do I."
The night of the gala came fast.
Ava stood in front of her closet, staring at the dress she hadn't worn in years. Black satin. Elegant, powerful. She slipped it on with steady hands.
Her phone buzzed.
Julian: "You still sure about this?"
She typed back quickly.
Ava: "I'm not going to break. I'm going to be seen."
Then she turned off her phone.
This wasn't about being afraid anymore.
It was about making sure Damien Blackwood knew exactly who she was.
And more importantly—
That she was no longer the girl his business destroyed.