Skyscrapers and Starlight – The Dragon’s Daughter
By Lea von Löwenstein
Chapter 3: The Glass Tower
Part 1: Pride’s Prison
The Drake mansion’s study vibrated with tension, old money portraits glaring down at the assembled power players. Harrison Drake’s laptop displayed the breaking news about the $2 billion investment, while Robert Montgomery paced, wearing tracks in the Persian carpet.
“This is clearly a corporate raid,” Harrison declared, slamming his laptop shut. “Global Titan’s trying to take advantage of our temporary cash flow situation.”
Elizabeth Drake sank into a leather armchair, her third martini trembling. “Of course it has nothing to do with… her. That little nobody couldn’t possibly—”
“Check the terms again,” Sophia Montgomery demanded, mascara streaking her cheeks. “There must be a way around this Marcus clause.”
Thomas Wells, Drake Industries’ CFO, who’d been summoned urgently, cleared his throat. “I’ve reviewed it three times. The funding is explicitly tied to Mr. Marcus Drake remaining as CEO. Any attempt to remove him, and the offer evaporates.”
“Then we remove the wife and keep Marcus,” Robert Montgomery barked. “Simple!”
Marcus, who’d been silently watching from the doorway with his arm around Alexandra’s waist, laughed. “Try it.”
“Marcus, darling,” Elizabeth cooed, “surely you see this gold-digger is—”
“Our stock dropped 40% last quarter,” Thomas interrupted, his voice shaking. “Without this injection, we’ll default on the Dubai project next month. We’d lose everything.”
Harrison’s face went from red to white. “Impossible. We’re Drake Industries!”
“Were,” Alexandra said softly, speaking for the first time. “You were Drake Industries.”
The room turned on her like wolves.
“You!” Sophia lunged forward. “This is your fault somehow!”
Marcus stepped between them. “Careful. That’s my wife you’re threatening. Again.”
“Wife?” Harrison’s laugh was hysteric. “She’s nobody! Some delusional—”
Alexandra’s phone chimed. She glanced at it, smiled, and turned the screen toward Thomas. “Mr. Wells, what happens if Marcus is removed as CEO in the next hour?”
The CFO adjusted his glasses, face draining of color. “The… the offer reduces to zero. Effective immediately.”
“And our liquidity?”
“We’d be bankrupt by March.”
Silence crashed through the room like a chandelier.
“So,” Alexandra’s voice was silk over steel, “shall we discuss how to address your new daughter-in-law? Or should Marcus start clearing his office?”
Elizabeth’s martini glass slipped from her fingers, shattering on the hardwood.
And in that sound, the mighty Drake-Montgomery alliance heard their future splintering.
Part 2: The Board’s Gambit
Drake Industries’ executive boardroom loomed fifty stories above Manhattan, its glass walls reflecting storm clouds gathering over the city. Alexandra sat beside Marcus at the massive obsidian table, twelve board members and both families circling like sharks scenting blood.
“This marriage is a liability,” Board Member Richards declared, sliding forward a document. “We’ve drafted divorce papers. Sign them, and we’ll ensure a generous settlement.”
Marcus’s laugh was arctic. “Trying to divorce my wife already, Richards? That’s bold for someone whose insider trading I overlooked last quarter. My wife might be delusional about being Alexandra Chen, but at least she’s honest about who she is. Unlike you, Richards. Shall we discuss those offshore accounts?”
Alexandra’s hand found his under the table. A silent thank you. He might not believe her identity, but he believed in her.
“Mrs… Drake,” Board Member Phillips sneered the name, “surely you understand this is just business. Name your price.”
“Ten million Dollars,” Elizabeth Drake cut in. “Cash. Today.”
“My price?” Alexandra’s smile was lethal. “For divorcing my husband?”
“Twenty Million Dollars,” Robert Montgomery added desperately.
Alexandra stood slowly, her Louboutins clicking against marble. “Let me be clear. I didn’t marry Marcus for money.”
“Fifty Million Dollars,” Harrison Drake growled. “Final offer.”
The room held its breath.
“I married him,” Alexandra continued, voice cutting through the interruption, “because when everyone in this room was trying to auction him off like cattle, he chose to be his own man.”
Marcus stood, pulling Alexandra up with him. “My wife isn’t for sale.”
“Oh, please,” Sophia scoffed. “Everyone knows she’s just a gold-digging—”
“Careful,” Marcus’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “That’s my wife you’re insulting. The same wife whose supposed delusions somehow aligned with a two billion dollar offer.”
“This is absurd!” Board Member Wallace slammed his fist down. “Drake Industries needs the Montgomery merger! We demand—”
“You demand?” Marcus’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Last I checked, my name’s still on the building.”
“And last I checked,” Alexandra added, steel beneath silk, “your quarterly bonuses depend on that two billion. Shall we vote on whose demands matter more?”
The board members paled collectively.
“She’s nobody!” Harrison roared. “Some consultant playing pretend—”
“She’s my wife,” Marcus cut in, his tone final. “Whether she’s Alexandra Chen or just Alex, she’s the woman I chose. The woman who believes in me enough to claim she’s moving billions to support my leadership.”
Alexandra squeezed his hand, touched by his defense despite his disbelief.
Marcus rose beside her, their shoulders touching. “And I married her because when she could have crushed me with that two billion, she chose to believe in me instead.”
“One hundred million,” Harrison tried desperately. “Just… just sign the papers.”
Marcus turned to Alexandra, his eyes soft despite the battle raging around them. “What do you say, wife? Ready to cash out?”
She pretended to consider it. “I don’t know, husband. I’m rather fond of our arrangement.”
“Fond enough to weather this storm?”
“With you together?” Her smile was real now. “Always.”
The board erupted in chaos, but they barely noticed. In that moment, surrounded by enemies and schemes, they were just a husband and wife, choosing each other all over again.
“This is ridiculous!” Board Member Wallace slammed his fist down. “The Montgomery merger—”
“Is dead,” Marcus finished. “Like this conversation.” He surveyed the room, steel in his voice. “So here’s your choice, ladies and gentlemen. Accept my marriage and keep your two billion dollar lifeline, or watch me walk out that door with my wife and your company’s future.”
The room froze.
“You have thirty seconds to decide.”
Thunder cracked outside, Manhattan’s skyline disappearing behind storm clouds.
“Choose wisely.”
Part 3: Starlit Confessions
Le Bernardin’s private dining room glowed with candlelight, the Manhattan skyline twinkling beyond rain-streaked windows. Alexandra’s fingers traced the rim of her wine glass, the events of the day still thundering through her veins. Marcus watched her from across the table, his tie loosened, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled to reveal strong forearms.
“You were magnificent today,” he said softly, pouring more Bordeaux. “The way you stood there, unflinching, while they tried to break you…”
She smiled, the candlelight catching gold in her eyes. “Says the man who faced down an empire for a woman he thinks is delusional.”
“Maybe I like a little delusion.” His laugh was warm, wrapping around her like cashmere. “The way you spoke about believing in me… no one’s ever—”
“Meant it?” Her voice softened. “I do, you know. Believe in you.”
He reached across the table, his fingers intertwining with hers. “I don’t care if you’re Alexandra Chen or just Alex. Today, you chose me. Not my name, not my company. Me.”
Her heart stuttered. “And you chose me. Even thinking I was nobody.”
“You’re not nobody.” He stood, pulling her up with him. Rain pattered against the windows, but neither noticed. “You’re my wife.”
The word hung between them, heavy with promise and possibility. His hand cupped her cheek, thumb tracing her lower lip. Alexandra’s breath caught as he drew her closer, the scent of his cologne—cedar and storm clouds—making her dizzy.
“Marcus…” she whispered, her fingers curling into his shirt.
His lips found hers, and the world dissolved. The kiss was soft at first, a question, a revelation. Then deeper, hungrier, his hand sliding into her hair as she pressed closer. She tasted wine and thunder and truth, felt his heart hammering against hers. His other hand spanned her lower back, pulling her flush against him as she gasped into his mouth.
Time stretched like honey, each sensation crystallizing—the rasp of his stubble against her palm, the heat of his skin through silk, the way he trembled when she nipped his lower lip. The kiss was a confession, a promise, a claiming. It tasted of defiance and destiny and something dangerously close to falling.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, the city lights blurred behind them like stars falling.
“Still want to divorce me?” she murmured against his lips.
His laugh rumbled through her. “Never.”
Outside, the storm raged on, but in that moment, wrapped in candlelight and each other, they’d found their shelter.
