Chapter 2 - The Nob Hill Trap
The week of the wedding arrived, bringing with it a flurry of chaotic energy, mandatory press events, and the arrival of Silicon Valley’s absolute elite. The rehearsal dinner was scheduled for Thursday evening at my luxury Nob Hill penthouse—a sprawling, glass-walled masterpiece overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge. Tristan loved hosting parties here because it made him look like a billionaire titan of industry, completely ignoring the fact that the deed was solely in my name.
The penthouse was packed with our board of directors, major venture capitalists, and high-profile tech influencers. Waiters in crisp white shirts circulated with trays of truffle hors d'oeuvres and vintage champagne. Tristan was in his element, holding court by the grand piano, a glass of scotch in his hand, laughing loudly.
And, of course, Tessa was there. She was wearing a slinky, emerald-green silk dress that was entirely inappropriate for a corporate rehearsal dinner. She hovered near Tristan’s orbit, playing the role of the devoted, starry-eyed assistant.
I was standing by the balcony when Julian walked through the front door.
The room’s temperature seemed to drop by ten degrees. Julian Cross was a legend, but he was also the man Tristan had publicly feuded with. The chatter died down as Julian, looking devastatingly handsome in a tailored navy suit, bypassed the crowd and walked directly over to me.
"Dr. Hastings," Julian said smoothly, handing me a beautifully wrapped gift box. "Congratulations on the upcoming merger."
"Thank you, Julian. I’m so glad you could make it," I replied, catching the double meaning in his words. Inside that box wasn't a blender; it was the final, notarized legal injunctions ready to be served.
Tristan nearly dropped his scotch. He pushed his way through the crowd, his face flushed with anger. "What the hell is he doing here, Zoe? I told security he was permanently blacklisted from our events."
"I invited him, darling," I said, placing a calming hand on Tristan’s tense chest. "Julian is a major player. If we want Apex to go public next year, we need to mend bridges. It’s for the good of the company. You always say business comes first, right?"
Tristan’s jaw ticked, but he couldn't cause a scene in front of our lead investors. He forced a tight, fake smile and nodded at Julian. "Right. Business first. Enjoy the free champagne, Cross."
As Tristan stormed off—immediately dragging Tessa into the hallway to complain—Julian leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. The scent of his cologne, sharp and clean, made my pulse race in a way Tristan never had.
"The trap is set," Julian whispered. "The board members present here tonight have already been privately briefed by my team. They’ve seen the financial irregularities. They know Tristan is a liability. They are just waiting for you to pull the trigger."
"And the patents?" I asked softly, keeping my smile bright for the cameras flashing in the room.
"Transferred and locked into your holding company an hour ago," Julian confirmed. "Tristan literally owns nothing but the suit he's wearing. How are you holding up?"
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I looked across the room. Tristan was huddled in a shadowy alcove with Tessa. I watched as he reached out, quickly and possessively, to stroke her waist before stepping away. Disgust flared in my chest, burning away any lingering doubts.
"I have never been better," I said, my voice cold as ice. "Tomorrow, I burn his entire world to the ground."
