Loyalty.
It's the one currency no one in the upper circles talks about, but everyone secretly trades in.
And tonight, someone was about to sell theirs.
Amelia sat in the study, reviewing potential candidates for the expansion of Astone Collective. She was meticulous—every woman selected had to be talented, hungry, and most importantly… loyal.
Which is why she paused when she saw the email.
It came from Clara Holt, her operations coordinator. One of her earliest hires. Smart. Quiet. Efficient.
But this message wasn't from Clara.
It was about her.
Forwarded from an anonymous source.
> "Voss Group is offering Holt a private consulting deal—three times her current pay. They want her to leak Astone Collective's expansion pitch and mentorship database. Deadline: Friday. A Friend."
Amelia leaned back in her chair. The glow from the desk lamp bathed her face in golden light, but her eyes were unreadable.
This wasn't just an attack.
It was a test.
Later that night, Alexander entered the room, jacket slung over his shoulder, sleeves rolled, looking like a man who didn't belong anywhere near sleep.
"She's going to take the deal," he said simply after Amelia explained. "Triple pay. Confidential contract. No one would blame her."
"I would," Amelia replied calmly. "Because she looked me in the eye and told me this was her dream job."
Alexander raised a brow. "You still believe in loyalty, even here?"
She looked up.
"No. I believe in pressure. It exposes truth."
The next morning, Amelia asked Clara to meet her privately. No accusations. Just coffee. Just conversation.
"You've been quiet lately," Amelia said, pouring her a cup. "Everything alright?"
Clara nodded. "Just tired. The Collective is growing fast."
"Fast growth attracts vultures."
A flicker in Clara's eyes.
Amelia leaned back, observing her like a chess master watching a piece hesitate.
"I want to expand into South Asia," Amelia said. "It's confidential. Only a few people know. I'll send you the full proposal later."
Clara froze for half a second. Just enough.
Amelia smiled softly. "You've always been one of the few I trust."
Clara's throat bobbed as she nodded.
It wasn't an accusation.
It was bait.
Two days later, Alexander stormed into Amelia's office, dropping a folder on her desk.
"It's confirmed," he said.
Inside was a forwarded message. The exact South Asia expansion plan—leaked to a third-party consultancy tied to Voss Group.
"It was Clara," he said. "We traced the access log. Time-stamped. Unmistakable."
Amelia didn't flinch. "Good."
Alexander frowned. "Good?"
"She failed the test."
That evening, Amelia called Clara into her office.
Clara entered, shoulders stiff, eyes uncertain.
Amelia didn't speak at first. She simply handed her a printed copy of the leaked file.
Clara's fingers trembled as she took it.
"I—" she began.
"No need to lie," Amelia said quietly. "You had a choice. And you made it."
Clara's mask cracked.
"It was just business," she whispered. "They said you'd fall eventually. Everyone does."
Amelia stood slowly.
"Maybe. But not today."
She didn't raise her voice. She didn't throw insults.
She simply said: "You're done here."
Security escorted Clara out within five minutes.
The whispers began within ten.
By midnight, three major publications had picked up on the scandal. But they weren't focused on Amelia.
They were focused on Celeste Voss.
Because the consultant Clara had leaked to?
Was already under investigation for data theft.
Amelia had planted the entire South Asia plan as a trap.
And Celeste had walked straight into it.
Back at the mansion, Alexander poured two glasses of scotch and handed her one.
"You played them," he said, watching her carefully. "Perfectly."
Amelia took a slow sip. "I didn't want to. But if I let this slide, they'd think I was weak."
He nodded. "They won't make that mistake again."
She looked up at him. "Are you proud of me, Alexander?"
He hesitated for just a second then nodded.
"Yes. And maybe a little afraid."
She smiled. "Good. That means I'm doing something right."
Elsewhere, in her private penthouse, Celeste stood at her window, reading the latest news alert.
Her wine glass cracked in her grip.
She didn't need to ask who had set the trap.
She already knew.
Amelia Rivers-Stone was no longer just a bride with a pretty face.
She was playing the long game.
And winning.