Ethan's POV
The lights flickered back on, but the damage was done. A tense murmur rippled through the ballroom as the projector sputtered back to life. My carefully rehearsed presentation? Ruined.
I shot a glance at Lila. She looked… smug. Like she was secretly pleased. Typical. Always confident, always perfect, always my rival.
I clenched my jaw. I couldn't let her one-up me tonight—not publicly, not ever.
"Sorry for the technical difficulties," I said smoothly, moving to the podium. "Let's try this again."
I launched into my presentation, but all I could think about was the brief moment our hands had touched when the projector went dark. A spark—irritatingly electric—ran through me. I shoved it aside. Focus, Ethan. She's a rival. Nothing more.
Ethan's POV
The applause faded, but the irritation didn't.
I stood near the stage long after my presentation ended, nodding politely as people congratulated me, all while replaying the blackout in my head. Timing like that was never an accident. Someone had messed with the equipment—but proving it would be difficult, not impossible.
Across the room, Lila Hartman laughed softly at something a guest said. The sound was controlled, elegant. Perfect.
Too perfect.
I turned away.
"Ethan."
My father's voice carried that familiar tone—the one that meant business. "Come here."
Lila was already standing beside her father when I approached. Her posture was flawless, chin lifted, eyes sharp. We didn't look at each other.
Not yet.
"We've been discussing the City Youth Charity Initiative," Mr. Hartman said smoothly. "Given recent… developments, we believe a joint leadership would be beneficial."
I blinked. "Joint?"
"Yes," my father added. "You and Lila."
I felt it then—the slightest shift in the air. Not anger. Not shock.
Resistance.
Lila spoke before I could. "With all due respect, I work best independently."
I almost smiled. Almost.
"Funny," I said, keeping my tone neutral, "I was about to say the same."
Her eyes flicked to mine—brief, assessing. Then away.
Our parents exchanged looks that said this decision had already been made.
"You'll start immediately," my father concluded. "This project will be highly visible."
Translation: failure is not an option.
Lila's POV
I hated how calm he looked.
Ethan Blackwood didn't argue. He didn't protest. He just accepted the situation like he always did—like the world naturally bent in his favor.
I refused to give him that satisfaction.
The drive home was silent. My father didn't ask how I felt. He already knew.
"He's capable," my father said eventually. "And so are you."
That wasn't reassurance. That was expectation.
Later that night, I opened my laptop and pulled up the initiative files. If I was being forced into this, I'd be prepared. I mapped out timelines, potential sponsors, logistics.
At exactly 10:47 p.m., my phone buzzed.
Ethan Blackwood:We should meet tomorrow. Get aligned.
I stared at the message longer than necessary.
Lila Hartman:Define "aligned."
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Then—
Ethan Blackwood:Same goal. Different methods.
I exhaled slowly.
Lila Hartman:Fine. 4 p.m. Hartman Foundation office.
His reply came instantly.
I'll be there.
Too instantly.
Ethan's POV
The Hartman office was exactly what I expected—clean lines, soft lighting, quiet confidence. Just like her.
Lila was already seated when I arrived, papers neatly arranged, tablet beside her. She didn't look up immediately.
"On time," she said.
"So were you," I replied.
We sat across from each other, the table between us like a boundary neither of us acknowledged aloud.
For the first thirty minutes, it was all business. Numbers. Logistics. Funding models.
No arguing.
That unsettled me more than her insults ever did.
"You're assuming sponsors will commit early," I said eventually. "That's optimistic."
"It's strategic," she replied. "Confidence attracts investment."
"Or blinds it."
Her pen paused mid-note. Slowly, she looked up at me.
"That's your opinion."
"Yes," I said calmly. "It is."
A beat passed.
Then she nodded once. "Noted."
That was it. No fight. No sarcasm.
I didn't know why that bothered me.
Lila's POV
He was sharper than I remembered.
Not louder. Not dominant. Just… precise.
When he pointed out a weakness in my timeline, he did it without gloating. When I challenged his budget forecast, he listened.
Really listened.
It made things complicated.
We worked for hours, the sun slipping lower outside the glass windows. At some point, I realized neither of us had checked our phones.
"That section needs revision," he said, gesturing to my screen. His hand hovered—not touching, not quite retreating.
"I know," I replied. "I was about to—"
Our eyes met.
The moment stretched. Not romantic. Not soft.
Charged.
I closed the file.
"We'll revise it tomorrow."
He leaned back, giving me space immediately. "Agreed."
Too polite.
Ethan's POV
As I stood to leave, something felt… unfinished.
"This partnership," I said, hesitating, "doesn't mean we stop competing."
She looked up at me. "Of course not."
Good.
"I don't trust you," she added evenly.
I almost smiled. "I wouldn't expect you to."
We stared at each other, neither backing down.
Then her phone buzzed.
Her expression changed—not dramatically, just enough for me to notice.
"What is it?" I asked before thinking better of it.
She hesitated. Then turned the screen toward me.
Unknown Number:
Be careful who you work with. Not everyone wants this partnership to succeed.
Below the message was a photo.
Us.
From today.
Taken through the office window.
Lila locked her phone and met my gaze, her voice steady—but her eyes weren't.
"Ethan," she said quietly,
"Tell me honestly… do you know anything about this?"
And for the first time since the rivalry began, I wasn't sure what the right answer was.