Chapter 5 The Game of Shadows

# Chapter 5: The Game of Shadows

The Blake Industries boardroom is a temple to corporate power—all gleaming mahogany and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan. Ten years of my life were spent preparing for meetings in this room, coaching Corwin through presentations, writing speeches he would deliver as his own. Never once did I imagine I would be sitting at the head of the table, all eyes on me.

Yet here I am.

"Ms. Foster," begins Harrison Wells, the silver-haired chairman of the board, "your proposal is... ambitious, to say the least. Restructuring our entire executive team, divesting from three major subsidiaries, and completely overhauling our corporate governance—all while you step in as interim CEO?"

I meet his gaze steadily. "Ambitious times call for ambitious measures, Mr. Wells. Blake Industries has lost thirty percent of its market value in two weeks. Your shareholders are in revolt, your clients are fleeing to competitors, and the SEC investigation has only just begun."

A woman to my right—Patricia Harding, the only female board member—leans forward. "And you believe you're the solution? The same woman who publicly humiliated our CEO?"

"I exposed corruption," I correct her. "And yes, I am the solution. I know where the bodies are buried because I helped bury them—under duress and with the understanding that they would eventually be properly addressed, which they never were."

The boardroom falls silent. Everyone here knows what I'm implying—that I have enough evidence to implicate not just Corwin, but potentially board members who turned a blind eye.

"And Mr. Donovan's role in all this?" asks Wells, gesturing to Alaric, who sits quietly in the corner of the room. "It seems convenient that Corwin Blake's chief rival stands to benefit from this chaos."

Alaric opens his mouth to respond, but I cut him off smoothly. "Mr. Donovan has offered his expertise and resources during this transition, but he will have no operational role at Blake Industries. This is not a takeover; it's a resurrection."

I stand, commanding the room in a way I once helped Corwin do. "Gentlemen, Ms. Harding—you have twenty-four hours to accept my proposal. After that, I take my evidence directly to the SEC and the press. I'm sure you can imagine the headlines."

As we exit the building, Alaric gives me an appreciative glance. "That was masterful. You didn't even need the presentation we prepared."

"I've been preparing for that meeting for ten years," I reply, "even if I didn't know it."

His hand brushes mine as we walk, a touch so light it might be accidental if not for the way his eyes seek mine. "Dinner to celebrate?"

"Rain check," I say, checking my phone. "I have another meeting."

His eyebrow raises questioningly, but he doesn't press. "Tomorrow, then. The board will have their answer by noon."

We part ways, and I head not home but to a small café in the West Village—neutral territory for my meeting with Corwin. After declining his calls for weeks, I finally agreed to see him, on my terms and my turf.

He's already there when I arrive, nursing what appears to be whiskey despite the early hour. The past month has aged him—new lines around his eyes, a slight dishevelment to his usually impeccable appearance.

"Marcelline," he says, rising as I approach. "Thank you for coming."

"I have twenty minutes," I reply, remaining standing. "Use them wisely."

He gestures to the chair opposite him. "Please. For old times' sake."

I sit, keeping my coat on—a small power play to signal I won't be staying long. "What do you want, Corwin?"

"To explain," he begins, leaning forward earnestly. "What you saw—what you think you know about Elysia and me—it wasn't what it seemed. The marriage was strategic, a merger of families. My heart has always belonged to you."

The words that once would have melted my resolve now only fuel my contempt. "Is that what you told yourself while shopping for her engagement ring? While planning your honeymoon?"

"I was going to tell her the truth after the merger was complete," he insists. "Set up a quiet divorce, bring you into the light as you always wanted."

I laugh, the sound harsh even to my own ears. "Ten years of lies, and you still can't stop. Pathetic."

His expression hardens. "What's pathetic is how quickly you jumped into bed with Alaric Donovan. Did you know he's been trying to destroy me for a decade? That he's obsessed with taking everything I have?"

"Including me?" I ask coolly. "Am I just another possession to you, Corwin?"

"You know that's not true." He reaches for my hand, but I pull away. "Marcelline, he's using you. Whatever he's told you about Victoria, about our past—it's twisted. He's dangerous."

For a moment, doubt flickers—the same doubt Elysia planted. "What really happened with Victoria?"

Pain crosses his features, genuine enough that it gives me pause. "She loved him. God help her, she really did. But Alaric was just using her to get close to my family, our connections. When she found out he was seeing other women, she confronted him. They argued, she was upset, driving too fast..."

"And you blame him for her death," I finish.

"I blame him for breaking her heart," Corwin says quietly. "For being so focused on destroying me that he hurt the one person I truly cared about."

The one person. Not me. Never me.

"Why are you telling me this now?" I ask.

He straightens, something of the old Corwin returning—the strategist, the manipulator. "Because the board called me after your meeting today. They're seriously considering your proposal."

So that's it. Not concern for my wellbeing, but fear for his company.

"And you think if you paint Alaric as the villain, I'll what? Withdraw my proposal? Come crawling back to you? Let you keep control of the company you've run into the ground?"

"I think," he says carefully, "that you're smart enough to see when you're being played. Alaric doesn't care about you any more than I allegedly did. He's using your anger, your talent, to achieve what he's always wanted—my destruction."

I stand, having heard enough. "Your destruction is entirely self-inflicted, Corwin. And for the record, I'm not doing this for Alaric. I'm doing it for me."

As I turn to leave, he calls after me, "He'll betray you, Marcelline. Just like you think I did. And when he does, remember I warned you."

The words follow me out of the café, mingling with Elysia's warnings, creating a storm of doubt that accompanies me back to my apartment.

Rebecca has left documents for tomorrow's follow-up meeting on my kitchen counter, along with a note: *Mr. Donovan called twice. Also, Ms. Montgomery left a message—said it's urgent regarding "mutual interests."*

I pour myself a glass of wine, trying to clear my head. Everyone seems to have an agenda—Corwin fighting for his company, Elysia for her pride, Alaric for his revenge. And me? What am I fighting for beyond settling old scores?

My phone rings—Alaric.

"How did it go with Corwin?" he asks without preamble.

I freeze. "How did you know I was meeting him?"

A slight pause. "I didn't. Not for certain. But my sources saw him waiting at that café, looking anxious. It wasn't hard to connect the dots."

"Your sources," I repeat, unease growing. "You're having me followed?"

"Not you," he says quickly. "Him. After what he did to you, I wanted to make sure he couldn't blindside us again."

Us. The word hangs between us, undefined yet weighted.

"Marcelline," Alaric continues, his voice softening. "Whatever he told you about me, about Victoria—ask yourself who benefits from driving a wedge between us right now."

The question is fair, but so is mine: "What really happened with Victoria, Alaric? The truth this time."

His sigh is heavy with old grief. "We were in love. Genuinely. Corwin couldn't accept that—he saw me as beneath her, a threat to his family's social standing. He manipulated her, told her lies about me until she believed them. The night she died, she'd called to tell me she never wanted to see me again. I was trying to explain, to make her understand..."

"You were on the phone with her when she crashed," I finish quietly.

"Yes," he admits. "I've carried that guilt for ten years. Corwin made sure the police knew, tried to have me charged with negligent homicide. When that failed, he vowed to destroy me professionally instead."

I sink onto my couch, processing this new version of events. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"Because I didn't want you to think my interest in you was only about revenge," he says simply. "It started that way, I won't lie. But it's become something else, Marcelline. Something I wasn't expecting."

Before I can respond, my other line beeps—Rebecca.

"I have to go," I tell Alaric. "The board is calling an emergency session tonight. Apparently, Corwin is making a counter-move."

"Be careful," he warns. "When Corwin feels cornered, he's at his most dangerous."

Two hours later, I sit in a secret meeting at the law offices of Blake Industries' outside counsel. Harrison Wells looks grim as he slides a folder across the table.

"Corwin has presented evidence suggesting you and Alaric Donovan conspired to manipulate Blake Industries stock, shorting it before your public revelation at the wedding. If true, it's securities fraud."

My blood runs cold. "That's absurd. I never—"

"There are trades, Ms. Foster. In your name. Significant short positions taken out three days before the wedding."

I stare at the documents, my mind racing. I never authorized such trades. But someone with my financial information could have. Someone like...

"This is Corwin," I say firmly. "He had access to my accounts for years. He's framing me."

Wells doesn't look convinced. "The board is reconvening tomorrow morning. If you can't disprove these allegations, your proposal is dead—and you may be facing criminal charges."

As I leave the building, a black car pulls alongside me. The window lowers to reveal Elysia Montgomery.

"Get in," she says. "You were right about one thing, Marcelline. Corwin would have made me miserable. But that doesn't mean I'll let you and Alaric steal what should partly be mine."

I hesitate, then slide into the car beside her. If this is a trap, it's too late to avoid it. If it's an opportunity, I can't afford to miss it.

"I think," Elysia says as the car pulls away, "it's time we discussed how three can play this game of shadows."