Skyscrapers and Starlight – The Dragon’s Daughter
By Lea von Löwenstein
Chapter 8: Queens and Pawns
Part 1: The Young Alliance
The morning after Eleanor’s explosive birthday party, Alexandra found herself in the Drake mansion’s conservatory, surrounded by exotic flowers and unexpected allies. Emma Drake, all of thirteen with a mind sharp as a tack, perched on an antique ottoman, her preserved jade piece cradled carefully.
“So,” Emma’s eyes sparkled with mischief, “when are you going to tell Cousin Marcus that you actually own, like, half of Asia?”
Alexandra nearly choked on her Earl Grey. “You believe me?”
“Duh.” Emma rolled her eyes. “I’ve been studying Asian art with Uncle Richard since I was seven. Nobody could fake that jade collection.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Plus, I might have googled you. The real you, not the consultant cover.”
“Clever girl.” Alexandra smiled. “And what else did your research reveal?”
“That you’re going to destroy James Harrison at his own party.” Emma’s grin was positively feral. “Can I help? He was mean to Marcus at Christmas.”
Before Alexandra could respond, Eleanor Drake’s voice drifted from the doorway. “Now, Emma dear, it’s not polite to volunteer for corporate sabotage before breakfast.”
The family matriarch swept in, resplendent in Chanel, her Rothko’s shipping crate visible in her private gallery through the glass walls.
“Although,” Eleanor settled into a wingback chair, “if one were planning such activities, having a teenager who’s already hacked her parents’ prenup might be useful.”
Emma’s face went scarlet. “Grandma!”
“You did what?” Alexandra’s respect for the girl doubled.
“They were trying to force Marcus into that horrible merger marriage,” Emma muttered. “Someone had to do something.”
Part 2: Tea and Threats
The Drake mansion’s conservatory glowed with afternoon light, turning Eleanor’s silver hair to a crown of starlight. Emma had migrated to sit cross-legged at Alexandra’s feet, while Eleanor poured another round of Earl Grey.
“So,” Eleanor’s eyes twinkled, “about that little gala you’re planning to crash…”
“The one where James announces his doomed Dubai deal?” Emma bounced slightly. “I already have intel. The security company they hired? Their network firewall is basically tissue paper.”
Alexandra raised an eyebrow. “And you know this how?”
“Please.” Emma rolled her eyes. “I got bored during Christmas dinner. Did you know Victoria Blackwood still uses ‘password123’ for everything?”
Eleanor’s laugh chimed like crystal. “Darling, you remind me of myself at your age. Though I had to rely on old-fashioned methods of intelligence gathering.”
“Like the time you swapped the real Monet for a fake at the Vanderbilt’s party?” Emma grinned.
“Emma!” Elizabeth Drake’s voice cut through the warmth like a glacier. She stood in the doorway, Hermès scarf twisted tight around her neck. “What are you doing here?”
“We’re having tea, Mother,” Emma’s voice went flat.
“With her?” Elizabeth’s lip curled. “Emma, go to your room. Now.”
“But Grandma and I were just—”
“Now.”
Emma stood slowly, clutching her jade piece. She met Alexandra’s eyes, something fierce and loyal burning in her gaze.
“Remember what I said about the firewalls,” she whispered, before slipping past her mother.
Elizabeth turned to Alexandra, her smile sharp as broken glass. “Now then, about that divorce settlement…”
Part 3: The Matriarch’s Game
The conservatory’s peaceful atmosphere shattered as Elizabeth Drake advanced like a cobra ready to strike.
“Let’s be clear,” she hissed. “Whatever con you’re running, whatever game you’re playing at—”
“The only game here,” Eleanor interrupted, setting down her teacup with deliberate precision, “is the one you’re losing rather spectacularly, Elizabeth dear.”
“Mother, please.” Elizabeth’s voice strained. “This woman is obviously—”
“Obviously what?” Eleanor’s tone could’ve frozen hellfire. “Obviously wealthy enough to casually gift priceless artifacts? Obviously powerful enough to make your precious Montgomery merger evaporate?”
“She’s destroying everything we’ve built!”
“No, darling.” Eleanor stood, every inch the family matriarch. “You did that yourself when you smashed four billion dollars worth of jade on my floor.”
Alexandra remained seated, watching the power play with quiet amusement.
“Now see here—” Elizabeth started.
“No, you see here.” Eleanor’s voice cracked like a whip. “That ‘consultant’ you’re so eager to dismiss? She owns the building your husband’s office is in. The one you’re three months behind on rent for.”
Elizabeth’s face went white.
“And that’s just the beginning, isn’t it, dear?” Eleanor turned to Alexandra with a knowing smile.
Before Alexandra could respond, the conservatory doors burst open. Marcus stood there, tie askew, holding his phone like a weapon.
“Alex,” his voice shook. “The Dubai project’s primary funding just… vanished. Every account, every commitment, just… gone. James is having a meltdown on CNBC.”
He froze, taking in the tableau before him – his mother’s pale face, his grandmother’s satisfied smile, and his wife’s serene expression.
“What did you do?” he whispered.
Alexandra’s smile was pure silk. “Nothing yet, darling. The real show starts at the gala.”
