“Well, well,” he murmured, setting his coffee cup down on his desk.“It seems the little activist from Stanford grew teeth.” Hegestured to the chair opposite his desk.“Have a seat, Elara. Let’s negotiate the terms of your… equality.”
Chapter 3:
The Board's Ultimatum
The "negotiation" was a brutal re-drawing of battle lines. For two hours, they sat across his vast desk, a no-man's-land of polished walnut between them. Xan laid out his terms with the dispassionate precision of a surgeon.
"You will have full operational control over the Aura project and its existing team," he conceded, steepling his fingers. "But all financial decisions, all public statements, and all strategic pivots go through me. You will report directly to me. Weekly. In person."
Elara's jaw tightened. "I won't have you strangling Aura's potential with your short-term profit metrics."
"And I won't have you running my company into the ground with your philanthropic daydreams," he countered smoothly. "Aura will be profitable, Vance. That is non-negotiable. Your 'humanitarian potential' is a marketing angle, not a business model."
They argued over budgets, team autonomy, and the very soul of the project. It was Stanford all over again, but the stakes were infinitely higher. Every concession she wrung from him felt like pulling teeth, and every restriction he imposed felt like a shackle.
Just as they reached a tense, fragile stalemate, the door to Xan's office opened without a knock. An older man, tall and stern with a head of silver hair and eyes the same cool grey as Xan's, stood there. Alistair Lyon. The founder of Kronos. Xan's father.
The air in the room chilled by ten degrees.
"Father," Xan said, his posture stiffening almost imperceptibly. "I wasn't expecting you."
"I was in the building. Thought I'd see how you were handling your new… acquisition." Alistair's gaze swept over Elara with open disdain. He didn't sit. He remained standing, a judge presiding over his court. "So, this is the visionary who nearly bankrupted a promising company with sentimentality."
Elara rose to her feet, refusing to be looked down upon. "I built a company with a conscience, Mr. Lyon. Something Kronos wouldn't understand."
A cold smile touched Alistair's lips. "Consciences are expensive luxuries, my dear. My son tells me you have a proposal to make Aura 'profitable.'" He made the word sound like a dirty joke. "I'm here to set the timeline."
He looked at Xan. "The board is skeptical, Alexander. They agreed to this merger on your insistence, against my better judgment. They need to see results. Concrete, financial results."
Xan's face was a carefully neutral mask. "We've just begun the integration, Father. These things take time."
"Time is a luxury you don't have," Alistair cut him off. "You have one quarter. Ninety days." His cold eyes shifted back to Elara. "If the Aura project isn't on track to meet Kronos's profitability targets by the end of that quarter, the project will be shuttered, its assets sold off, and the team disbanded."
Elara felt the blood drain from her face. Ninety days. It was an impossible deadline. Aura was designed for long-term global impact, not a quick quarterly profit.
"And her?" Alistair nodded toward Elara.
"If she fails to meet the target," Xan said, his voice devoid of emotion, "her contract with Kronos will be terminated. Immediately."
The ultimatum hung in the air, a guillotine blade suspended over both their necks. Alistair had not only set an impossible task but had also masterfully pitted them against each other. Xan's success was now tied directly to her performance, and her survival was dependent on achieving his profit-driven goals.
"Understood?" Alistair's word was a final verdict.
"Perfectly," Xan replied, his gaze fixed on a point just past his father's shoulder.
Alistair gave a curt nod and left, the door clicking shut with an air of finality.
The silence he left behind was deafening. The professional animosity between Elara and Xan was suddenly eclipsed by a shared, looming threat. They were trapped in a cage of Alistair's making.
Xan finally looked at her, and for the first time, she saw something other than cool arrogance or predatory amusement in his eyes. She saw the same cold, calculating pressure she felt.
"It would seem," he said, his voice low and flat, "that our fates are now intertwined, whether we like it or not."
The rivalry was no longer just personal. It was a fight for professional survival, and their most dangerous enemy was no longer each other, but the man who had just left the room. The board's ultimatum had just forged the most unlikely and volatile alliance either of them could have imagined.
Chapter 4:
Forced Proximity
