- Aurelia -
The elevator to Max's Tribeca penthouse was all glass and brushed steel—sleek, precise, and revealing nothing. Much like its owner.
Aurelia watched the floor numbers climb, pulse quickening despite her best efforts at composure. She'd spent an hour choosing her outfit—settling on a deep burgundy dress that was elegant and unapologetic. Her armor for whatever came next.
The photo scandal was everywhere now. Their private moment plastered across business publications and gossip sites alike, dissected like quarterly earnings. The Sterling heiress and the Kaiser rebel—a narrative too delicious for the press to ignore.
She'd expected Max to retreat. To choose safety over desire.
She hadn't expected the text inviting her here. Tonight. To talk.
The elevator doors opened directly into Max's foyer—polished concrete floors, minimalist decor, floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing Manhattan's glittering skyline. Everything in the apartment radiated control and curation.
Max stood by the windows, silhouetted against the city lights. Still in work clothes—tailored slacks, white shirt, sleeves rolled.
She turned as Aurelia entered, her expression unreadable.
"You came," she said.
"You asked," Aurelia replied, lingering near the elevator. "Though you didn't say why."
Max gestured toward the living area. "Drink?"
"I'd prefer the truth," Aurelia said. "Why am I here, Max?"
A moment passed, heavy with everything between them—spoken and not.
Max moved to the bar cart, poured two glasses of whiskey. Her hands were steady, but there was tension in her shoulders.
"The photo changes things," she said, offering a glass.
Aurelia took it but didn't drink. "Only if we let it."
"It's not that simple."
"It is." Aurelia took a slow step forward. "Someone saw us kiss. The world turns."
Max's jaw tightened—that subtle tell Aurelia had come to recognize. "My father's using it to question my leadership. The board's watching. Investors too."
"And what about Max?" Aurelia asked gently. "Not the CEO. Not the Sterling heir. Just... you."
Something flickered in Max's eyes—vulnerability, quickly masked.
"What I want doesn't always matter."
"It's the only thing that does," Aurelia said.
Max turned back to the windows, retreating. "We need to create space. Let the scandal cool."
There it was. The retreat. The safe choice.
"So that's why I'm here," Aurelia said, voice steady. "To be told we're over before we've begun."
"That's not what I said."
"Then say what you mean. Because it sounds like you're choosing your father's approval over your own happiness. Again."
"I'm trying to be practical. This isn't just about us. There are careers. Legacies. Responsibilities."
Aurelia set her glass down, untouched. "No. You're just terrified."
Max's silence was louder than any argument.
"Call me when you know what you want," Aurelia said, walking back to the elevator. "Not what the Sterling name demands. Not what your board expects."
She paused, looking back. "Until then, I'll see you in the boardroom."
The doors closed between them, leaving Max in her immaculate, silent apartment—and Aurelia in the elevator, heart breaking beneath her armor.
She didn't cry.
Instead, she pulled out her phone and texted Vivien:
> Accelerate the Future/Noir launch. I want it ready by Monday.
If Max wanted distance, Aurelia would give her exactly that.
And a reminder of what she was choosing to walk away from.
---
- Max -
She hadn't started it.
She could've.
But she didn't.
Yet when Kaiser's Future/Noir line dropped three days later—a sleek, all-black collection that screamed rebellion—Max saw the message clearly.
So she sent one back.
Sterling's "Pure Legacy" campaign had been in the pipeline for months. She greenlit the launch the morning after seeing Future/Noir's press coverage.
Classic. Refined. Tradition reimagined.
Business, she told herself.
Just business.
Lani dropped the morning briefing on her desk with extra precision.
"Kaiser's Future/Noir line sold out in six hours," she reported. "Their tagline's trending."
Max didn't look up. "What tagline?"
"'The future doesn't care about family names,'" Lani quoted, deadpan. "Subtle."
Max's fingers paused on her keyboard for a beat—just long enough.
"Our Pure Legacy campaign launches tomorrow. Make sure PR highlights sustainability and heritage craftsmanship."
"Got it," Lani said, turning, then hesitating. "Oh, and Micha Voss called. Wants to discuss opportunities at Sterling."
Max looked up. "Kaiser's golden boy?"
Lani nodded. "Apparently, he feels... underappreciated."
Poaching him would be a win.
And a pointed reply.
"Set up a meeting," Max said. "Quietly."
Lani nodded and left.
Max returned to her screen, determined to focus on numbers, not the echo of Aurelia's last words. Not the absence in her penthouse. Not the ache she refused to name.
Twenty-four hours later, Micha signed.
It was clean. Ruthless. Perfect.
And it felt awful.
She stared at the wall, arms crossed. Triumph should've tasted sweeter.
Instead, it felt like loss.
Lani breezed in again, placing a green smoothie in front of her.
"She posted another story."
"I don't care."
"It's a video," Lani said, eyes gleaming. "She's laughing in it."
Max's fingers twitched.
"Want me to 'accidentally' forward the link?" Lani teased.
"Lani."
Lani mouthed you're obsessed as she left.
Max stared at her phone.
Didn't search.
Didn't have to.
The algorithm already knew.
The video loaded—Aurelia at a gallery opening, champagne in hand, head tilted back in effortless laughter.
Free.
Unburdened.
Max closed the app and turned her phone facedown.
She had work. A company. A legacy.
But the image wouldn't leave her.
By nightfall, Pure Legacy launched to solid press and promising numbers. The board was pleased. Her father even texted a rare "Well done."
It should've felt like victory.
But all she felt was empty.
---
- Aurelia -
The news hit at 9:17 AM.
Vivien entered Aurelia's office quietly, closing the door behind her.
"Micha signed with Sterling this morning."
Aurelia didn't look up from the fabric samples on her desk. "I know."
"You knew?"
"He called yesterday. Said he was considering the offer. I told him to take it."
"You what?"
"He deserves the opportunity."
"And Max deserves the satisfaction?"
Aurelia shrugged. "If she wants to play chess, let her have the pawn."
Vivien didn't buy it. "This isn't a game, Aurelia. It's your company. Your future."
Aurelia finally looked up. "It's just business."
"Is it?" Vivien's tone sharpened. "Then why are you stalking Max's LinkedIn? Why watch the Sterling announcement three times? Why go to that gallery opening knowing fashion press would be there?"
The words hit harder than expected.
"I'm not the one who walked away," Aurelia said.
"No. But you're both stubborn. And miserable."
Aurelia didn't deny it.
Since that night, she'd been on autopilot—running the company, attending events, projecting confidence.
While secretly hoping for a message that never came.
"What do you suggest?" she asked. "That I beg?"
"I suggest you stop pretending corporate warfare fills the void," Vivien said. "And admit you miss her."
Aurelia almost smiled. "When did you get so wise?"
"When I got tired of watching two geniuses act like idiots."
After Vivien left, Aurelia sat in silence, staring at her phone.
Max's Instagram profile was still pristine. No mess. No emotion.
She hated how much that stung.
Later that night, Vivien returned to find Aurelia barefoot, swirling a glass of wine she hadn't sipped.
"She stole Micha."
"He left."
"For more money. But he was loyal."
"Then not loyal enough."
Vivien crossed her arms. "You still in control?"
Aurelia didn't answer right away.
"I don't know."
And for the first time, it was the truth.
Because somehow, Max had become her compass.
And now she felt lost.
This wasn't her. Pining. Waiting. Playing emotional tug-of-war through product launches.
She stood, suddenly decisive. "I'm going to the office."
Vivien blinked. "It's nearly midnight."
"Exactly. No distractions."
Just work. Just purpose. No ghosts.
No checking if Max was thinking of her too.
---
Max – Sterling Boardroom, 2:03 AM
The city was silent.
Max sat alone at the long boardroom table. Laptop open. Reports untouched.
She checked her phone.
Aurelia's story was still up.
Muted light. Red silk. Laughter. Someone else's shoulder.
Not hers.
A message buzzed in.
> Vivien: Since when do you check your competitor's Instagram at 2AM?
She didn't reply.
There was nothing left to say.
Only silence.
And the slow, piercing realization:
This wasn't about business anymore.
Not even close.
She hadn't meant to end up here. Had planned to go home, prep for tomorrow's briefing.
But this place—the boardroom—felt like the only space where she still knew who she was.
Except even that felt hollow now.
She opened her phone again.
News alert:
Kaiser CEO Spotted at HQ at Midnight – Future/Noir Expansion Rumored.
There she was—Aurelia, entering her studio in black, eyes sharp, stride fierce.
Max typed before she could stop herself:
> You should be sleeping.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Then came back.
> So should you.
Not warm. Not cold.
Just real.
Max hesitated.
Then typed:
> I miss you.
A pause.
Then:
> Prove it.
Max stared at the screen.
A challenge.
A doorway.
A choice.
For once, she didn't calculate.
Didn't consider the board. The press. Her father.
She stood, gathered her things, and walked out of the boardroom.
Aurelia wanted proof?
She'd give her exactly that.