บท 12: Marcus Sinclair’s Intrigue
While the tension between Mila and Drake simmered, Marcus Sinclair, the cunning CEO of Sinclair Holdings, had been quietly observing from the sidelines. The corporate world was like a chessboard to Marcus—every move was calculated, every opportunity exploited. He thrived in the shadows, looking for weaknesses to exploit. And now, with the looming merger between Morgan Enterprises and Hawthorne Industries, Marcus sensed an opening.
The cracks were beginning to show, and Marcus knew that wherever there was tension, there was opportunity.
Late one evening, Marcus arranged a discreet meeting with Jonathan Hawthorne, Drake's father, at one of Manhattan's most exclusive gentlemen's clubs. The club, with its dark wood paneling, low-lit chandeliers, and plush leather seating, was the perfect place for off-the-record conversations—where power players like Marcus and Jonathan could talk without prying eyes.
As they sat in the dimly lit lounge, cigars in hand, the faint haze of smoke curling lazily around them, Marcus leaned forward, his expression casual but calculated. Jonathan, ever the shrewd patriarch of the Hawthorne family, studied Marcus with cool, evaluating eyes.
"You know," Marcus began smoothly, tapping the ash from his cigar into a crystal tray, "this whole situation with Mila and Drake is interesting. But I get the feeling their little arrangement might not last as long as they think."
Jonathan's cold, calculating gaze didn't waver, but Marcus could see he had the man's attention. He let the silence linger for a moment, taking a slow draw from his cigar before continuing. "Mila's smart. Drake's sharp. But throw them together like this? In a marriage? There's too much ego, too many moving parts. Sooner or later, something's going to give. And when it does, Hawthorne Industries is going to need a… stable partner."
Jonathan remained silent, his face a mask of calm indifference, but his eyes flickered with a hint of intrigue. He knew what Marcus was doing—dangling the possibility of an alliance, planting the seed of doubt about Drake's ability to handle Mila. It was a subtle move, one that Jonathan might have brushed off if it weren't for his own lingering concerns about his son's increasing distraction with Mila.
Marcus leaned back in his chair, letting his words settle as he took another puff of his cigar. "I'm just saying, if things between the two of them start to fall apart, you'll want someone you can count on. Sinclair Holdings could be that someone."
Jonathan's lips curled into a thin smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. He was a man who trusted few, and Marcus was no exception. He knew Marcus was out for himself, always angling for power. But the offer wasn't without its merits. An alliance with Sinclair Holdings could provide leverage in the ongoing corporate war, giving Jonathan more control over the direction Hawthorne Industries would take—especially if Drake became too entangled with Mila.
"You're ambitious, Marcus," Jonathan said slowly, his voice low but steady. "But you're right about one thing—business is unpredictable. And when things get messy, it's good to have options."
Marcus smiled wider, sensing that his message had landed. "Exactly. Think of it as a backup plan. You never know when you'll need a change in strategy."
Jonathan took another drag from his cigar, his eyes narrowing as he considered the proposition. "I'll keep that in mind."
Marcus knew that was as close to a commitment as he was going to get from Jonathan tonight. But he didn't need more than that. The seed of doubt had been planted, and now it was just a matter of time. He could wait. Patience was something Marcus had in abundance—especially when it came to watching others make mistakes he could capitalize on.
They sat in silence for a moment longer, each man lost in his own thoughts, the faint glow of the fire reflecting in their eyes. The Merger between Mila and Drake might have been the centerpiece of the corporate world's attention, but Marcus was already working on his next move. And when the time came, he'd be ready to strike.
He rose from his chair, stubbing out his cigar in the ashtray. "Let me know," Marcus said, his voice smooth as ever, "if you ever feel like you're ready for that change."
Jonathan gave a single nod, his expression unreadable, but Marcus could sense the gears turning behind those cold eyes. As he left the club, Marcus's smile widened. He didn't need Jonathan's full trust—he just needed him to doubt Drake. The rest would fall into place.
The pieces were moving, and Marcus Sinclair had always been very good at playing the long game.
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