A Wealthy Socialite Dragged a Poor Young Woman Across the Floor of a Luxury Hotel... Never Realizing She Was the True Owner

Alexander Cross did not knock.

The heavy glass doors of Charlotte’s penthouse office swung open, and the billionaire strolled in as if he owned the building. He was thirty years old, impeccably dressed in a bespoke midnight-blue suit, with sharp cheekbones and cold, calculating gray eyes. He exuded a dark, predatory magnetism.

Behind him, two of Marcus’s security guards lay groaning on the floor of the reception area. Marcus himself stepped forward, drawing his weapon, but Charlotte held up a hand.

"Stand down, Marcus," Charlotte said, not breaking eye contact with the intruder. "Mr. Cross just wanted to make an entrance. It’s a common symptom of a fragile ego."

Alexander smirked, stepping over the threshold and taking a seat on the leather sofa without being invited. "Charlotte Vale. Back from the dead. I have to admit, you look much better in person than you did in your obituary."

"Get out of my building, Alexander," Charlotte said coldly, sitting behind her desk.

"Straight to business. I like that," Alexander chuckled, crossing his long legs. "Let’s be honest, Charlotte. You pulled off a neat little parlor trick last night. Throwing Julian and Richard in jail? Very theatrical. But running a billion-dollar empire takes more than a flair for the dramatic. Solmere’s stock is fluctuating. Your investors are terrified by the instability."

"My investors are fine. My company is clean."

"For now," Alexander countered, leaning forward, his gray eyes flashing with danger. "But you and I both know the market hates a vacuum. I’m here to offer you a lifeline. Merge Solmere with Vanguard Holdings. We become a monopoly. You get to keep a cute little title on the board, and I handle the heavy lifting."

"You mean you absorb my mother's legacy to cover your own over-leveraged debts," Charlotte corrected smoothly. She pulled a file from her drawer and tossed it onto the desk. "I saw the capital injection you gave my uncle, Alexander. I know you paid for the bullet that killed my mother."

Alexander didn't flinch. His smile merely widened. "It was strictly business, Charlotte. Nothing personal. Solmere was stagnating under your mother’s charity projects. I was simply accelerating the inevitable."

The sheer sociopathy of his statement made Marcus grip his gun tighter, but Charlotte remained perfectly still. Her pulse was steady. She refused to give him the satisfaction of her anger.

"You have exactly ten seconds to leave this office before I have Marcus throw you through that window," Charlotte said, her voice dropping to a terrifyingly quiet register.

Alexander stood up, buttoning his suit jacket. "You’re making a mistake, little girl. You think because you beat a couple of old men like Richard and Julian that you’re ready for the major leagues. Vanguard is a machine. I will crush you."