April 13th, 10:13am. Bellingham Tower— Liverpool.
The Bellingham boardroom resembled a battlefield more than a conference space. A polished glass table stretched the length of the room, surrounded by sleek leather chairs. The air was thick with tension, hanging like mist before a storm. At the head of the table sat Tony, fresh and classic silver hair, with Red eyes, sharp in a dark navy blazer, his white shirt slightly unbuttoned, no tie. He exuded a calm demeanor—perhaps too calm.
Across from him sat Dent.
Newly dyed Red Hair, a crocodile-smile, and eyes like daggers. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the table, the sound echoing like a ticking bomb. Behind him stood two stone-faced assistants in tailored suits, each with the kind of rigid posture that screamed: hired muscle.
(Dent had power, in the industries after Tony and Cristiano (The Head) came Dent Diego)
Clara sat near the edge of the room, silently sipping a latte. She wore a black dress with a white pleated skirt, high black heels, and white-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. Her signature Louis Vuitton handbag rested on the seat next to her. Blonde hair neatly tied up, with a few teasing strands falling beside her cheek. She looked like a fashion ad. She also looked like she was having fun.
(Cristiano Bellingham {currently 23-year old} personal assistant.)
Tony noticed. Of course he noticed. She knew. And he knew she knew.
(I like this line)
But that wasn't today's fight.
Dent leaned forward. "The Greenland expansion project is bleeding funds, Tony. Your decision to push marketing early was... ambitious. We're down five million."
Tony didn't flinch. "And we're up in brand visibility by 28%. You know what that means in market terms?"
Dent smirked. "I know it means short-term losses. Bellingham wasn't built on risk-taking. We build slow, steady, and strong."
Tony folded his arms. "That's why you're second-in-command. Always safe. Never bold."
Silence fell like a blade.
Dent stared. "You think being Cristiano's son means you get to walk in and swing your—"
Clara cleared her throat loudly. "Gentlemen. Please."
Tony smirked. "I'm not here to swing anything, Dent. I'm here to lead. And starting next quarter, your hold over the European logistics wing is being restructured. I've already signed the orders. I think i'll shift you to the Asia wing. That means less power for you"
Dent froze.
"You little—"
(Tony rockssss!!!!!)
"Meeting adjourned," Tony said coldly, standing.
Dent's face twisted. But he said nothing. Just smiled.
A dangerous smile.
Later That Evening...
4:55pm.—Bellingham Log Warehouse
Tony stepped into the Bellingham logistics warehouse district on the East Side of Liverpool. He was scheduled to meet the security director and inspect inventory.
The place was eerily quiet. Too quiet.
The long corridor echoed under his shoes as he walked past rows of towering metal shelves. Shadows loomed overhead like sleeping giants. The air smelled like steel and stale dust.
Then: footsteps.
Then: movement.
He turned back to look
Then: fists.
They came at him in suits—four men. Two blocked the exit. One lunged forward.
Tony ducked just in time, the fist grazing past his cheek. He grabbed a loose pipe from the ground and swung. It connected with a satisfying thud, and one attacker stumbled back.
(Damn!!!! A weapon is always near Tony!!!!!)
He wasn't a fighter. Not professionally.
But he was fighting now.
Another man tackled him. They slammed into metal crates. Pain shot through Tony's ribs. He gasped. Bit down. Rolled. Threw an elbow. The attacker reeled back.
"Ahhhh!!!!!" Tony(Kai) screamed.
Tony's lip was bleeding. Nose maybe broken.
He didn't stop.
There was shouting now. More footsteps.
Then he heard a click. He looked up.
A silhouette. High heels clicking.
"Need help?"
Clara.
She strolled into the chaos, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder, adjusting her glasses like she was walking into a bakery, not a brawl.
"I'm fine," Tony muttered, swinging again.
One man lunged toward Clara—bad idea. In a swift move, she pulled a stun gun from her purse and zapped him in the ribs. He crumpled like laundry.
"You shit head" The man exclaimed
Before he knew it, Tony kicked him down.
"You always carry that?" Tony muttered.
Clara grinned. "Only on dates with troublemakers. Plus I felt like helping Kai out"
(What's her problem?)
The last thug tried to run. Clara pressed a button. Tony blinked. Was that a drone? It flew in, sprayed black ink, and smacked the man unconscious with a tranquilizer dart.
Tony stared. "Where the hell did you even get that?"
Clara walked over and handed him a handkerchief. "Trade secret."
(Trade what? This girl is crazy)
Tony took it, wiped his lip. "Thanks."
She leaned in. "You're welcome... Kai."
His eyes met hers.
He didn't answer.
Still, she reached into her bag and pulled out a manila folder. "Speaking of secrets... I need your signature on this."
Tony opened it. Standard business authorization.
"The hell?" He said. "I should sign papers now?"
He reached for a pen, took the paper, and without thinking—signed it.
Clara raised an eyebrow. "Left-handed now again?"
Tony froze.
She leaned close, smirking. "That's funny. Fooled you twice....Kai!!! Remember The real Tony signs with his Right, not left."
He didn't say anything.
She giggled. "Relax. I won't tell anyone. I just wanted to see if you'd mess up again. And you did so."
He looked at her. She looked so innocent in that black dress, white skirt swaying, perfect little glasses perched on her nose. But her eyes? Full of fire.
She twirled the pen between her fingers. "You know I could destroy you, right?"
He smiled back. "Yeah. I'm counting on it."
She winked and turned to leave. "Next time, maybe don't walk into ambushes alone, Mr. CEO. You're valuable property."
"Noted," Tony said, limping slightly as he followed her out.
As they exited, Tony noticed the attackers groaning on the floor, still alive, some of them barely conscious. He made a mental note to increase internal security and audit employee backgrounds.
As they approached outside, she gave him some tissues and bandages to cover the wonds and clean the blood
"By the way," Clara said casually as they walked toward her car, "I traced two of those goons back to a shell company in Berlin.
(Berlin? Again?)
Guess who signs the invoices?"
"Dent," Tony muttered.
"Ding ding ding." She tossed him a small flash drive. "Something's on there. Names, transfers, offshore connections. You're welcome. Few of dent's connections, and well ....all the businesses in Berlin."
"Why help me?" he asked.
She opened her car door, glanced at him over her shoulder. "Because I like chaos. And because... you're interesting." Plus it will be beneficial to me, later on.
Then she drove off.
7:07pm—Tony's Car.
Tony sat alone in his car. Bruised. Managed to stop the Bleeding. But alive.
He picked up the phone.
"Yeah," he said into the receiver. " Let's keep searching about everything on Dent. I don't care how deep it goes. Dig until it stinks. Remember just 35 days to go."
He hung up.
He leaned back, wincing as his sore body protested. Blood from his lip dried and cracked slightly when he moved his mouth.
Outside, Clara was already gone.
But her perfume still lingered in the air.
He stared at the flash drive resting on the passenger seat.
A tool. A weapon. A gift?
He didn't trust Clara. He never did
But right now? She was the major ally he had with teeth.