Skyscrapers and Starlight – The Dragon’s Daughter
By Lea von Löwenstein
Chapter 18: The Final Dance
Part 1: Opening Moves
Drake Tower’s grand ballroom shimmered under crystal chandeliers on this crisp February evening. The air hummed with anticipation as Manhattan’s elite gathered, their evening wear worth more than most annual salaries. Behind sealed doors, the adjacent networking ballroom held secrets that would reshape the construction industry forever.
James Harrison made his entrance with calculated drama, Victoria Blackwood draped on his arm like an expensive afterthought. Her Valentino gown screamed new money, while his Tom Ford tuxedo showed signs of recent alteration – a subtle tell of Harrison Global’s financial strain.
“Darling,” Victoria purred loud enough to carry, “everyone who matters is here tonight.”
Behind them, Robert Montgomery guided his daughter Sophia through the growing crowd, their presence adding another layer to the evening’s tension. Sophia’s Dior gown whispered old money, her father’s Savile Row suit speaking of European banking heritage.
“James,” Robert called out, his voice carrying just the right note of calculated concern. “I trust everything is… proceeding as planned?”
Victoria’s grip on James’s arm tightened visibly as she caught sight of Sophia. The two women exchanged looks that could have frozen champagne.
“Of course, Robert,” James replied, his confidence as artificial as Victoria’s smile. “Tonight, we finally put Drake Industries in their proper place.”
None of them noticed Wei’s slight smile as he observed from near the sealed expo doors, or the subtle glow of quantum processors hidden behind them.
The Drake Tower ballroom’s champagne flowed freely as James Harrison guided his small group to a discrete corner, their voices dropping to conspiratorial whispers.
“Everything is prepared?” Robert Montgomery’s aristocratic tone carried just a hint of steel. “Once the contracts are signed…”
“The board votes are secured,” James confirmed, unconsciously adjusting his too-loose Tom Ford sleeve. “The moment I gain control of Drake’s construction division—”
“We strip it bare,” Victoria finished, her smile sharp as broken glass. “Every patent, every innovation, transferred before they realize what’s happening.”
Sophia Montgomery delicately sipped her champagne. “And the quantum research division?”
“Already have buyers lined up in Dubai,” James smirked. “By the time Alexandra realizes her precious company is being dismantled—”
“She’ll be powerless to stop it,” Robert completed, studying the sealed expo doors with calculating eyes. “The Chen family influence won’t matter once we control the board.”
Victoria’s laugh carried a note of premature triumph. “From heir to nothing. Rather poetic, don’t you think?”
None of them noticed the small red light blinking on the crystal chandelier above them, or the way Wei’s tablet quietly recorded every word of their planned corporate assassination.
Part 2: Power Play
The February evening deepened as Drake Industries’ board members made their entrance, each arrival causing subtle ripples through the ballroom’s carefully maintained social hierarchy.
Elizabeth Drake, head of the board’s strategic committee, swept in wearing Chanel that probably cost more than James’s recent Hamptons property losses. Behind her, Sebastian Dale, the board’s most vocal advocate for innovation, adjusted his Hermès tie with calculated precision.
“James,” Elizabeth’s greeting could have frosted champagne. “How… persistent of you to join us tonight.”
Victoria Blackwood’s grip on James’s arm tightened as she recognized the underlying threat. Robert Montgomery stepped forward, ever the diplomat.
“Elizabeth, my dear,” he attempted his most charming smile. “Surely tonight we can set aside old… differences?”
“Of course,” Sebastian cut in smoothly. “Tonight is about the future, isn’t it?”
More board members filtered in: Margaret Windsor, whose family’s construction empire dated back to Victorian London; Kai Yamamoto, whose Asian development projects had revolutionized urban planning; and finally, Richard Drake himself, whose presence commanded immediate attention.
James’s carefully crafted confidence wavered slightly as he noticed their collective expressions – not the anticipated concern over a takeover, but rather the subtle amusement of predators watching prey walk willingly into a trap.
“Shall we proceed?” Richard’s voice carried easily across the marble floor. “I believe Wei has some… interesting presentations prepared.”
As Richard Drake moved to greet other guests, three board members subtly detached themselves from the group, gravitating toward James’s corner. Jonathan Pierce, Patricia Whitmore, and Charles Blackwood – Victoria’s uncle – formed a loose circle around the conspirators, champagne flutes providing convenient cover for conversation.
“Everything in order?” Charles murmured, his eyes constantly scanning for observers. “The voting blocks are secured?”
James gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Seven votes confirmed. Once I sign as majority shareholder—”
“The board meeting is already scheduled for Monday morning,” Patricia cut in, her Cartier bracelet catching the chandelier light. “The motion to ‘restructure’ the company’s research division is prepared.”
Robert Montgomery’s thin smile held genuine malice. “And their mysterious new construction technology?”
“Whatever it is, it’ll belong to us by Monday,” Jonathan confirmed. “Though these rumors about some revolutionary breakthrough…”
“Probably just smoke and mirrors,” James dismissed, though a flicker of uncertainty crossed his features. “They’re desperate. Why else would they sell controlling interest?”
Victoria’s uncle raised his crystal flute. “To new beginnings.”
“And swift endings,” James added softly, watching Elizabeth Drake across the room with undisguised hatred.
None of them noticed the small red light blinking on the crystal chandelier above, or how Wei’s tablet continued to silently record their conversation.
The conspiratorial huddle shattered like fine crystal as a ripple of silence swept through Drake Tower’s ballroom. Even the champagne servers froze mid-pour.
Alexandra and Marcus had arrived.
She wore Alexander McQueen, a creation in midnight blue that seemed to absorb light itself, while his bespoke Tom Ford tuxedo made James’s look like department store ready-wear. His jade cufflinks caught the chandelier light like captured stars.
Victoria’s champagne flute trembled slightly. “She looks… confident.”
“Too confident,” James muttered, watching his ex-fiancée glide through the crowd with the grace of a predator.
The traitorous board members exchanged uncertain glances as Alexandra and Marcus made their way toward the sealed expo doors, accepting greetings but stopping for no one. There was something in their easy elegance, their unhurried certainty, that made the conspirators’ earlier bravado feel suddenly hollow.
“Remember,” Charles whispered urgently, “in two hours, none of this will matter. Once the contracts are signed—”
But James wasn’t listening. He watched Alexandra pause near the expo entrance, turning just enough to catch his eye. Her smile, brief and devastating, held secrets that made his expensive collar feel too tight.
For the first time that evening, doubt crept into his carefully constructed plan like winter frost.
Part 3: The Serpent’s Strike
The crystal chandeliers cast diamond patterns across the marble floor as James Harrison broke away from his conspirators, Victoria Blackwood trailing in his wake like an expensive shadow. He intercepted Alexandra and Marcus near the sealed expo doors, positioning himself with the entitled arrogance of a man who already believed he owned the building.
“This is a private event,” he announced, loud enough to draw attention. “For actual stakeholders.”
Alexandra’s midnight blue McQueen whispered against the marble as she paused, one perfect eyebrow arched. Marcus’s hand remained casually at the small of her back, his jade cufflinks catching the light.
“James,” she replied, her voice carrying just enough amusement to sting. “Still struggling with guest lists, I see.”
Victoria stepped forward, designer heels clicking like cheap percussion. “You have no right to be here. After tonight, Drake Industries will be under new management.”
“Will it?” Marcus’s tone could have frozen champagne. “How fascinating.”
“Security!” James’s voice carried a note of desperate authority. “Remove these… these intruders.”
The ballroom held its collective breath. Wei, standing near the expo doors, didn’t even glance up from his tablet.
Alexandra’s smile was pure silk. “Oh, James. You really should have read the fine print.”
The Drake Tower ballroom crackled with tension as Alexandra’s challenge hung in the air. Her midnight blue McQueen caught the chandelier light like armor as she took one deliberate step closer to James.
“I want to see someone try to drag me out,” she purred, each word dripping with lethal amusement. “Please, James. Do make that attempt.”
Victoria’s face flushed an unflattering shade of red. “You little—”
“Security!” James barked again, his composure cracking. “I said remove them!”
The security team, wearing Drake Industries uniforms, remained perfectly still. One of them caught Wei’s eye, received an imperceptible shake of the head, and resumed his professional stance.
“Having trouble with the help, James?” Marcus’s voice carried just enough mockery to draw blood. “Perhaps they’re… confused about who signs their paychecks?”
James took a half-step forward, his face mottled with rage. “This building is rented for me! My company! I won’t let some gold-digging consultant and her—”
“Your building?” Alexandra’s laugh was pure silk over steel. “Oh, darling. You really should have had your legal team check the ownership records more carefully.”
The gathered crowd watched with collective held breath as James’s hand actually twitched toward Alexandra’s arm.
The February evening air crackled with electricity as James’s hand moved toward Alexandra’s arm. The chandelier light caught Marcus’s jade cufflinks as he shifted – not obviously protective, but with the casual readiness of a predator about to strike.
“I wouldn’t dare if I where You, James,” Marcus’s voice carried soft warning. “Unless you want to add assault charges to your evening’s entertainment.”
James’s hand froze mid-reach as Wei cleared his throat. “Mr. Harrison, might I remind you that all security cameras in Drake Tower are… fully operational. Even though Titan Global has rented this building for tonight´s Gala event. The owner is still Mr. Drake.”
Victoria grabbed James’s sleeve, her designer nails digging into the Tom Ford fabric. “James, don’t let them provoke you. In an hour, none of this will matter.”
Alexandra’s smile deepened, something dangerous dancing in her eyes. “An hour? How optimistic.” She turned slightly, addressing the gathered crowd. “Though since we’re all here, perhaps we should move to the evening’s main event?”
“You have no authority—” James started, but Wei was already moving toward the sealed expo doors.
“Actually,” Alexandra’s voice carried just enough volume to reach the conspirators huddled near the back, “I believe it’s time to demonstrate exactly who has authority here.”
The expo doors began to slide open, revealing the first glimpse of what lay beyond.
