Chapter 17
Aria POV
The glass doors of Ravenwood’s City Development Board gleamed in the morning sun.
I adjusted my blazer, smoothing the burgundy fabric. Behind me, my assistant carried the presentation materials, her expression calm and professional.
“Ready, Ms. Monroe?” she asked.
“Always.” I stepped inside, my heels clicking against marble.
The conference room on the fifteenth floor was already filling with board members and city officials. And there, at the far end of the table, sat Damien Blackwood.
Our eyes met across the room.
His jaw tightened as I smiled.
“Ms. Monroe.” Board Chairman Richard Torres gestured to a seat. “Thank you for coming. Mr. Blackwood arrived just moments ago p>
“Perfect timing then.” I settled into my chair, placing my portfolio on the table.
Damien’s gaze burned into me. I ignored it, focusing on Torres as he called the meeting to order.
“We have two exceptional proposals for the Riverside Development Project,” Torres announced. “Blackwood Enterprises and Monroe Global. The contract is worth $500 million over three years. Mr. Blackwood, you’ll present first p>
Damien stood, buttoning his suit jacket.
He looked tired, I noted with satisfaction. Dark circles shadowed those ice-blue eyes.
He began his presentation with practiced confidence. “Blackwood Enterprises has been the cornerstone of Ravenwood’s development for three decades”
I listened, making mental notes. His proposal was solid. Traditional and completely predictable.
Charts appeared on the screen. Projected timelines. Budget breakdowns. Everything is polished and professional.
But nothing innovative. Nothing that would actually transform the Riverside District into what this city needed.
When he finished twenty minutes later, polite applause rippled through the room. Several board members nodded approvingly.
“Excellent, Mr. Blackwood.” Torres turned to me. “Ms. Monroe p>
I rose smoothly. “Thank you, Chairman Torres p>
My assistant handed me the remote for the display screen. I clicked to my first slide.
“Blackwood Enterprises has indeed been developing Ravenwood for thirty years,” I began, my voice clear and measured. “Which means they’ve been using the same strategies for thirty years. The same contractors. The same designs p>
I clicked to the next slide, revealing detailed analytics. “The same problems p>
Murmurs rippled through the room as Damien’s eyes narrowed.
“In the past decade, Blackwood’s residential projects have seen a 23% increase in structural complaints.” I displayed the data, color-coded and undeniable. “Their commercial developments have a tenant turnover rate 15% higher than the industry standard. And their sustainable energy initiatives?” I paused. “Consistently miss their targets by an average of 18 p>
“Ms. Monroe” Damien’s voice was cold.
“I’m not finished.” I didn’t even glance at him. “These aren’t accusations. They’re facts pulled from public records, tenant surveys, and the city’s own maintenance logs p>
Torres leaned forward, studying the screen. “Go on p>
“Monroe Global’s proposal addresses every one of these issues.” I clicked through slides showing architectural renderings, environmental impact studies, community integration plans. “We’re not just building structures. We’re building a sustainable, thriving community p>
I walked to the screen, using a laser pointer. “Green spaces integrated throughout. Mixed-income housing to prevent gentrification. Local business incentives. And construction methods that reduce our carbon footprint by 40% compared to traditional approaches p>
“How?” one board member asked. “That seems ambitious p>
“Modular construction combined with recycled materials.” I pulled up the technical specifications. “We’ve done this successfully in Hong Kong and Dubai. The timeline is actually faster than traditional methods, and the long-term maintenance costs are 30% lower p>
I watched their faces change. Skepticism shifting to interest.
“Our budget is comparable to Blackwood’s proposal,” I continued. “But our return on investment—for the city and for residents—is significantly higher. I have fifteen years of projected data to support this p>
I spent the next twenty minutes walking them through every detail. Financial projections. Environmental impact. Community benefits and Job creation numbers.
When I finished, the room was silent. Then Torres started clapping. Others joined in, the applause stronger than what Damien had received.
“Impressive, Ms. Monroe.” Torres stood. “We’ll need time to deliberate, of course. But I must say, both proposals have considerable merit p>
“Of course.” I gathered my materials. “I’m available for any follow-up questions p>
“As am I.” Damien’s voice was tight.
The board members filed out, several stopping to ask me questions. I answered each one thoroughly, aware of Damien standing across the room.
Finally, we were alone except for my assistant, who waited by the door.
“That was quite a performance,” Damien said, his voice low and dangerous.
I turned to face him. “That was business. Maybe you’re not familiar with actual competition anymore p>
“You used confidential data.” He stepped closer. “Those maintenance logs aren’t public record p>
“They are if you know where to look.” I smiled. “I’m very good at research. Surely you remember that about me p>
His jaw clenched. “This isn’t just about the contract p>
“No?” I tilted my head. “Then what is it about, Damien p>
“You’re trying to destroy me p>
“I’m trying to win a contract.” I picked up my portfolio. “If that destroys you, maybe you weren’t as indestructible as you thought p>
“Aria”
“Ms. Monroe.” My voice went cold. “In professional settings, it’s Ms. Monroe p>
Something flashed in his eyes.
“The board will announce their decision Friday,” he said quietly. “May the best proposal win p>
“It will.” I walked toward the door, where my assistant waited.
“I meant what I said.” Damien’s voice stopped me. “About my child if I have one. About wanting to be part of his life p>
I looked back at him. “And I meant what I said. You have nothing p>
“Then let me earn something.” He took a step forward. “Let me prove I’ve changed p>
“You can’t change the past.” I felt my chest tighten. “You can’t undo what you did p>
“I know.” His voice cracked slightly. “But I can try to build something new. If you’ll let me p>
For a moment, I almost believed him. Almost let myself imagine what it would be like if he actually meant it.
Then I remembered. The cold contempt in his eyes. The way he’d thrown money at me like I was a problem to be solved. The sound of my sister’s laughter as I left.
“No,” I said simply. “You can’t p>
I walked out, my assistant following.
In the elevator, she spoke carefully. “That went well. The board was impressed p>
“They should be.” I stared at my reflection in the polished doors. “We’re going to win p>
“And Mr. Blackwood p>
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t trust my voice.
The elevator descended, and I forced myself to breathe normally. To push away the memory of pain in Damien’s eyes.
This was war. And in war, there was no room for mercy.
My phone buzzed. A text from Olivia: How’d it go?
Perfectly, I typed back. Friday we’ll know for sure.
And Damien?
I stared at the message. He’s not relevant.
But my hands were shaking as I put the phone away.
Friday afternoon
“The board has reached a decision p>
Torres’s voice echoed through the conference call. I sat in my office, my assistant beside me, speaker phone between us.
Damien was on the line too. I could hear his breathing.
“After careful consideration of both proposals,” Torres continued, “the Riverside Development Project has been awarded to… Monroe Global p>
My assistant squeezed my hand. I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding.
“Congratulations, Ms. Monroe,” Torres said warmly. “Your vision for Riverside was exactly what this city needs. We look forward to working with you p>
“Thank you, Chairman Torres.” My voice was steady. “Monroe Global won’t disappoint p>
“Mr. Blackwood,” Torres’s tone turned apologetic. “Your proposal was excellent. But Ms. Monroe’s innovation and community focus won the day. I hope you’ll bid on future projects p>
“Of course.” Damien’s voice was carefully neutral. “Congratulations, Ms. Monroe p>
The call ended.
My assistant grinned. “We did it p>
“We did.” I stood, walking to my office window.
The city spread below me, glittering in the afternoon sun. Somewhere out there, Damien was sitting in his office, dealing with his first major loss.
To me.
I should have felt triumphant. Victorious.
Instead, I just felt tired.
My phone rang. It was from Olivia.
“I’m guessing from your text that you won?” she said when I answered.
“We did p>
“Then why do you sound like you lost p>
I closed my eyes. “Because it doesn’t feel the way I thought it would p>
“Revenge rarely does.” Her voice was gentle. “What now p>
“Now I celebrate with my team. Issue a press release. Start planning the project.” I say grinning.
“And Damien p>
“What about him?” I ask arching my brows.
“Aria”
“I have to go,” I interrupted. “We’re having a celebration dinner p>
I hung up before she could push further.
My assistant appeared in the doorway. “The team wants to go to Marcello’s to celebrate at seven o’clock p>
“Perfect.” I forced a smile. “Tell them drinks are on me p>
“They’ll love that.” She paused. “Are you okay, Ms. Monroe p>
“I’m fine.” I turned back to the window. “Just processing p>
She left quietly.
I stood there, watching the sun sink lower. Watching shadows stretch across the city.
I’d won. Beaten Damien at his own game. Proven I was better, stronger, smarter.
So why did I feel so empty?
Marcello’s Restaurant – 8:30 PM
The private dining room buzzed with energy. My team laughed, toasted, celebrated our victory.
I smiled and raised my glass when required. Praised their hard work. Thanked them for their dedication.
But my mind was elsewhere.
“Speech!” someone called out.
Others joined in. “Speech! Speech p>
I stood, glass in hand. “To Monroe Global. To innovation. To proving that the best ideas win, not the oldest names p>
Cheers erupted. Someone started a chant of “Ice Queen! Ice Queen p>
I laughed, but the nickname stung. Was that really who I’d become?
My phone buzzed. I glanced at it.
Unknown number: Congratulations on your win. You deserve it. – D
My chest tightened. I shoved the phone back in my purse.
“Ms. Monroe?” My assistant touched my elbow. “There’s someone here to see you p>
“I’m not expecting anyone p>
“She says it’s urgent.” Her expression shifted. “It’s your sister p>
The room seemed to tilt.
“Vivian?” I whispered.
“She’s outside. The hostess is keeping her in the waiting area p>
I set down my glass, my hand shaking. “Tell everyone I’ll be right back p>
I walked out of the private room, through the main dining area, to the entrance.
And there she was.
Vivian Monroe stood by the hostess stand, looking as perfect as always. Blonde hair in elegant waves. Designer dress. Diamond earrings catching the light.
She smiled when she saw me. That same smile that had haunted my nightmares.
“Hello, little sister.” Her voice was sweet. “Do you miss me p>