- Max -
The news broke at 7:03 AM.
Max was halfway through her green smoothie, already scanning quarterly numbers when Lani burst into her office without knocking—an act punishable by death, usually.
She was holding her phone like it was radioactive.
"You need to see this."
Max blinked once. "Lani—"
"It's about you."
The headline on the screen read:
Sterling Heiress Facing Old-Money Marriage Clause? Sources Say Board Pressuring Maxine Sterling to 'Secure Legacy'
Her fingers paused mid-scroll. The article was speculative—vague references to internal documents, a leaked board memo. No names. But the implication was clear.
Marry by year's end, or lose control.
Exactly what her father had told her behind closed doors. Now in full color, under her morning espresso.
"How the hell did this get out?" she said, ice threading into her voice.
"I don't know," Lani said softly, "but... Max, this is everywhere. The Post. Business Insider. TMZ."
Max's jaw clenched. "They're framing it like I'm some Jane Austen protagonist."
"More like a reality show."
Max tossed the smoothie into the bin, appetite gone. She crossed to the window, arms folded tightly.
The morning sun cast Manhattan in gilded light, the city already pulsing with its usual energy. From this height, everything looked small, contained, manageable. But Max knew better. Knew that down there, in boardrooms and coffee shops and subway cars, people were reading about her. Speculating. Judging.
Her life was now a headline. Her leadership reduced to a marital status. And worst of all...
Her phone buzzed.
Vivien: FYI—Aurelia's already seen it.
Max didn't answer. She didn't have to.
Of course Aurelia had seen it.
That was the worst part—knowing that Aurelia was reading the same article, seeing Max's private humiliation made public. The vulnerability she'd confessed in a moment of weakness now exposed for analysis and entertainment.
"Should I call PR?" Lani asked, hovering uncertainly by the door. "They'll want to draft a statement."
Max turned back, already recalibrating, rebuilding the walls that had momentarily crumbled. "Tell them to prepare something noncommittal. 'Ms. Sterling does not comment on board matters or speculative reporting.' Standard language."
"That's it?" Lani looked surprised. "You're not going to deny it?"
"Denying gives it credibility," Max replied, slipping back into CEO mode with practiced ease. "We acknowledge nothing, confirm nothing, treat it as beneath notice."
Lani nodded, but hesitated before leaving. "There's something else."
Max raised an eyebrow.
"Page Six has a photo. From Geneva."
The words landed like a physical blow, though Max's expression betrayed nothing.
"Show me."
Lani handed over her phone, eyes carefully averted as if giving Max privacy for what they both knew was coming.
There it was—grainy, slightly blurred, but unmistakable. Max and Aurelia, in what appeared to be a hotel hallway, standing too close, looking at each other with an intensity that even a poor-quality photo couldn't disguise.
It wasn't the kiss. Not explicitly. But it might as well have been, for what it revealed. The connection. The tension. The undeniable something between them that could never be explained away as merely professional.
"When did this run?" Max asked, voice perfectly steady despite the pounding of her heart.
"This morning. Right after the marriage clause story broke." Lani took back the phone, grimacing slightly. "The timing seems..."
"Deliberate," Max finished. "Someone's making a point."
"Who would--"
"My father," Max said flatly. "Or someone acting on his behalf. This isn't coincidence, Lani. This is a message."
Lani nodded slowly, understanding dawning. "He's forcing your hand."
"He's trying to," Max corrected, moving back to her desk with purposeful strides. "Clear my schedule until ten. I need to make some calls."
---
- Aurelia -
She read the article twice. Then a third time. Then laughed so loudly Vivien came in from the adjoining office.
"Please tell me you're not laughing at financial headlines again," Vivien said warily.
"Oh no," Aurelia said, spinning the phone toward her. "Just the one where Max Sterling is basically being auctioned off by her board."
Vivien's mouth twitched. "You're enjoying this far too much."
"I'm not enjoying it," Aurelia said, tossing the phone down. "I'm... appreciating the irony. Miss Untouchable has been touched by dynasty politics."
But beneath the flippant response, something deeper churned in Aurelia's chest. The article had laid bare what Max had confided to her in private—the ultimatum, the pressure, the impossible choice. It reduced Max's brilliance, her leadership, to nothing more than a board-mandated marriage prospect.
Vivien raised a brow. "You know this doesn't end well, right?"
"For who?" Aurelia asked.
"You," Vivien replied. "You kissed her. She kissed you back. And now the world thinks she's on the market. Guess who they'll assume is first in line?"
Aurelia opened her mouth to scoff—then paused. Because Vivien was right.
Twenty minutes later, her PR director, Claudia, entered with a phone full of screenshots. A blurry but unmistakable photo: Max and Aurelia, hallway, intimacy.
"This is already trending. #FireAndFrost is number three on Twitter," Claudia said.
"We need a statement," Claudia continued. "Something that acknowledges without confirming, suggests without implying, distances without—"
"No," Aurelia interrupted.
"No statement?"
"No distancing," Aurelia clarified. "Draft something simple: 'Ms. Kaiser has no comment on personal matters but continues to value Sterling Global as a key industry partner.' That's it."
Claudia looked pained. "That's... very open to interpretation."
"Exactly," Aurelia smiled. "Let them interpret."
---
- Max -
She should have denied it. But she didn't.
Instead, she stood in front of the mirror, tightening the cuffs on her blouse. She knew what she'd face in the boardroom.
The Sterling Global boardroom was all dark wood and legacy. And today, it felt like a tribunal.
She walked in. Silence fell. Everyone had read it. Everyone had seen the photo.
She sat, opened her materials, said nothing.
"Ms. Sterling," one director finally began, "perhaps now is the time to consider what kind of image you wish to project."
Max didn't blink. "I project that of a CEO who delivers consistent growth and innovation."
"There's more to leadership than performance," another said carefully. "There's legacy. Continuity. Values."
Max leaned forward. "I've hit every target you've set. Outpaced competitors. Raised our profile. And now my private life is your concern?"
A pause.
"The article and the photo—"
"Were distractions," Max said, cutting him off. "We're here to talk about Q4 projections, not my dating life."
The board hesitated, then one by one returned to their folders.
But the shift had happened. The walls knew. So did she.
Aurelia
"They're calling us 'Fashion's Frost and Fire.' Someone already made t-shirts," Aurelia said, showing Vivien her phone.
Vivien sighed. "You should've stopped at the kiss."
"Too late."
Her phone buzzed.
Max:We need to talk. My place. 8PM.
Aurelia typed back:
I'll be there.
---
- Max -
The Sterling townhouse hadn't changed. Neither had her father.
He was already seated when she entered. The photo sat in front of him like evidence.
"You've embarrassed the family," he said.
"For kissing someone?"
"In public. With a rival. With a woman."
Max met his gaze. "Then maybe it's time the family adjusts."
"Fix this. Marry someone respectable. Secure your seat."
Max didn't answer. She stood. Walked out.
And didn't look back.
In the car, her phone buzzed.
Aurelia:Want me to leak another photo? Really shake them up?
Max smiled.
Max:You're impossible.
Aurelia:You love that about me.
And she did.