Alessia Laurent never believed in luck—only strategy.
For years, she had watched Adrian Sinclair rise, taking what he wanted without consequence. But now, the tables had turned. This time, she wasn't the desperate wife begging for scraps of his affection. She was the woman who walked away and built an empire larger than his.
And now, she would take everything.
Sitting in her sleek, glass-walled office at Laurent Holdings, Alessia tapped her manicured nails against the desk, her mind already ten steps ahead.
Her assistant, Evelyn, entered with a folder. "It's done," she said with a smirk. "We acquired a majority stake in Sinclair Industries' key supplier. Their next shipment depends on us now."
Alessia took the folder and skimmed the documents. Adrian's tech empire relied heavily on this supplier for high-end materials. By controlling it, she could choke his production lines. A minor inconvenience at first, but soon, it would cost him millions.
"Good," Alessia murmured, signing off on the deal. "This is only the beginning."
She wasn't looking for a quick attack—she wanted a slow, calculated collapse.
Later that evening, Alessia attended an exclusive finance summit, an event where CEOs and investors shaped the future of the industry. Adrian was a keynote speaker, his influence still undeniable.
Dressed in a striking crimson dress that commanded attention, Alessia made sure to sit front and center. The moment Adrian took the stage, she let a knowing smirk play on her lips.
As he spoke about "sustainable expansion," a notification buzzed on every journalist's phone. A leaked report—detailing Sinclair Industries' supply chain crisis—hit the news at the perfect moment. Alessia had orchestrated the release herself.
Whispers spread through the room. Investors exchanged uneasy glances. Adrian's jaw clenched as he powered through his speech, but the damage was done.
By the time he left the stage, the press was waiting.
Alessia walked past him slowly, her voice a soft, mocking whisper:
"Tough night?"
She didn't wait for his answer.
As she walks away. she isn't done yet. Now again she moves to her next strategy. This time not in the boardroom but somewhere personal. this would be her ultimate strike
Adrian had always seen Alessia as a possession—someone who would never truly leave. He expected her to still love him, to regret walking away.
So, she made sure he saw what he lost.
The next morning, headlines painted her as the rising power in finance. But what made Adrian's blood boil wasn't the business news—it was the photo.
Alessia, standing on the rooftop of Laurent Tower, locked in an intimate moment with Marcus Westwood. A staged but convincing kiss.
Adrian saw it the second he checked his phone. His grip tightened.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath.
Alessia had moved on. Publicly. Boldly.
And the worst part?
She never once looked back at him.
Alessia didn't need to see Adrian's reaction to know she had hit him where it hurt.
She could feel it.
The way the headlines painted her as the one who won. The way investors hesitated before committing to Sinclair Industries. The way Adrian's usual air of untouchable arrogance cracked, just slightly.
But this wasn't over.
At her office she sat across from Henry Caldwell—Sinclair's CFO. A loyal soldier to Adrian, but loyalty was a fickle thing when the right leverage was applied.
"You want to leave Sinclair Industries," Alessia said smoothly, swirling her glass of wine. "I can make that happen."
Henry exhaled, rubbing his temple. "I can't just walk away. The non-compete clause—"
"Let me worry about that." She leaned forward, voice calm but edged with certainty. "What you should worry about is the SEC investigation that's about to land on Adrian's desk."
His head snapped up. "What?"
She smiled. "He's been inflating quarterly reports, hasn't he?"
Silence. A guilty silence.
"That's illegal," Henry muttered.
"And you don't want to go down with him," Alessia finished. "Here's my offer—join Laurent Holdings. You get a fresh start, an airtight legal team, and I ensure your name stays clean when this all comes crashing down."
Henry swallowed hard. Then he nodded.
The moment he shook her hand, Adrian's company began its true collapse.
***
Adrian's penthouse was a fortress—glass walls overlooking the city, sleek marble floors, a monument to his success.
But tonight, it felt empty.
The weight of Alessia's moves pressed in on him. The business loss. The media firestorm. The betrayal of his own CFO.
And now, the message that sat on his phone, taunting him.
Enjoy the show.
Just two words. No sender name. No explanation.
But he knew.
And when he turned on the TV, there she was. Alessia Laurent, live in exclusive event.
Dressed in black satin, a picture of effortless power. On the arm of Marcus Westwood.
The camera caught her laughing. Radiant. Untouchable.
Adrian clenched his jaw.
Alessia had done the impossible—she had made him feel powerless.
And that was a feeling he would never forgive.