52. Grayson
52
GRAYSON
E leanor King is about to walk into the mostunforgivingroom of her life. The rooftop venue is alive with energy, the chatter of high-profile guests humming under the golden city lights. Cameras flash as Perfectly Matched’s elite clientele mingle, sipping champagne and trading stories about howGrayson King’s visionchanged their lives. That part was intentional. Margot made sure tonight wasn’t just an event. It was amessage. A calculated, strategic display of power. Every guest in attendance has either benefited from my leadership at Perfectly Matched or stands to lose somethingsignificantif Eleanor takes control. And now? They are here, in a space thatexcludesher, singingmypraises.
The moment Eleanor steps out of the elevator, the shift isimmediate. The conversation slows. People glance at her, some curious, some wary. She’s used toowninga room. Tonight, shedoesn’t.
Eleanor walks in with her signature grace, her tailored emerald dress as sharp as the expression on her face. She’s toocontrolledto show shock outright, but I see the flicker of it in the way her eyes scan the room. She was expecting resistance. She was not expectingthis.
She moves toward a group of executives, plastering on her most polished smile. “Lovely evening, isn’t it?”
Silence.
Margot, standing beside me with a champagne flute in hand, murmurs under her breath, “And there it is.”
Eleanor’s lips press together as one of the board members clears his throat awkwardly, shifting on his feet.
“Well, yes, of course,” he says, but he won’t meet her eyes. “Quite an…impressiveturnout tonight.”
It’s subtle, but it’s enough. She feels it the shift in power. For the first time inyears, Eleanor King isnotthe most powerful person in the room.
Cassian, who has beenwaytoo entertained by this entire night, tilts his glass toward Eleanor in a mock toast. “Ah, Eleanor, glad you could make it,” he says smoothly, his smirk practicallydrippingwith amusement. “We were just discussing Perfectly Matched’s continued success. You must besoproud.”
Eleanor’s gaze sharpens, but before she can reply, Isabella steps up beside him, lookingobnoxiouslyrelaxed. “Yes, Eleanor, I was justtelling everyonehow much your leadership style has inspired me,” she adds with atoo-sweetsmile. “It’s fascinating, really. The wholeruthless efficiencything? Iconic. If you ever needa lessonin positive PR, though, you know where to find me.”
Cassian chokes on his drink, barely smothering a laugh. “Oh, Monroe, you are dangerous.”
Isabella shrugs. “I thrive on honesty.”
Eleanor’s expression barely flickers, but I can see the ice beneath the surface. “I suppose Hollywood teaches you to bedramatic,” she says coolly.
Isabella beams. “Oh, darling, I don’tact. Iexpose.”
Cassian grins. “And what a talent you have for it.”
For the first time tonight, Eleanor looksuneasy.
As if on cue, the media shifts their focus. The cameras that had been circling the room now angle toward Eleanor, reporters stepping in withpointedquestions.
“Eleanor, given the recent concerns raised about your leadership, how do you plan to reassure the board?”
“Do you have a response to Isabella Monroe’s claims about your past business practices?”
“Do you believe your reputation can recover after tonight’s press coverage?”
The cracks widen.
Eleanor lifts her chin, keeping her voice calm. “I believe my track record speaks for itself. Perfectly Matched has flourished under my guidance…”
Margot takes a slow sip of her champagne. “Oh,this is fun.”
I smirk. “Just wait.”
Because this is not even thefinalblow.
Olivia strides toward us, her phone in hand, her eyes gleaming. “The report is live.”
And just like that, it’sover.
Eleanor’s phone pings. So do the phones of every investor, executive, and board member in this room. Abreaking news alert: “ EXCLUSIVE: Insider Reports Reveal Financial Misconduct Under Eleanor King’s Leadership – Investors Panic as Documents Surface ”
Eleanor’s fingers tighten around her clutch. The murmurs begin. Whispers. Disbelief. Panic. The board members look at their screens, their facespaling. I watch Eleanor’s expression shift in real-time, fromcontroltopanic, fromrighteous indignationtodesperation. Sheknows. This isit. She haslost.
I step forward, my voice quiet butdeadlycalm. “Eleanor,” I say smoothly, my eyes locking onto hers, “you should leave while you still have achoice.”
For the first time in my life, I see something I never thought I would witness on Eleanor’s face, fear.
Margot moves beside me, standing at my level, her voice equally sharp. “By the time the board meets tomorrow, the only vote left on the table will be whether theyfireyou or let youresign with dignity.”
The silence that follows isdeafening. Eleanor King is finished. And Perfectly Matched belongs tous.
Cassian sighs dramatically, adjusting his cufflinks. “Well,thatwas deliciously painful to watch.”
Isabella grins. “Ten out of ten. Wouldpublicly destroy a corporate villainagain.”
Cassian glances down at her, his smirk shifting into something slower, somethingintimate. “Oh, Monroe, you reallydo have a talent for chaos.”
Isabella tilts her head, her eyes flickering with challenge. “Careful, Laurent. You soundimpressed.”
His gaze darkens slightly. “Oh, Iam.”
Margot mutters under her breath, “I swear to God, if they don’t justkiss already…”
I chuckle, looping an arm around her waist. “Patience, Evans.”
She tilts her head at me, her blue eyes gleaming with triumph. “We won.”
I smirk, leaning down so my lips brush the shell of her ear. “Of course, we did.”
She exhales, her fingers tightening against my jacket. “What now?”
I glance at Eleanor, who is already slipping toward the exit, her posture stiff, her entireworldcollapsing around her.
I meet Margot’s gaze, my voice low. “Now?” I murmur. “Now, wefinish this.”