Three:

Blueprints and Betrayals

Edward's POV:

I sit behind my desk, staring at the mess of blueprints and financial reports scattered in front of me. The Seattle skyline stretches out beyond the floor-to-ceiling office windows, but I can barely appreciate it. All I see are the numbers—red, problematic numbers—that tell me my architectural firm is on the brink of collapse.

I rub my temples, trying to push away the throbbing headache that's been building all day. It should be easy to focus on the problem at hand—my company's survival—but instead, my mind keeps drifting back to last night. More specifically, to Bella Swan.

The image of her, standing there drenched in champagne, keeps playing in my head. There was something about the way she handled the situation—vulnerable yet determined—that I can't shake. It's ridiculous, really. She's just another person who happened to cross my path, another person caught in the whirlwind of my chaotic life.

But she's lingering in my thoughts, refusing to be pushed aside. It's frustrating. I have no time for distractions, especially not now.

My phone buzzes, snapping me out of my reverie. It's a message from my assistant, reminding me about the meeting this afternoon with an investor—a man who, despite his polished exterior, is known for his ruthless tactics. The offer on the table is tempting, but it doesn't sit right with me. I've always prided myself on running my business with integrity, on doing things the right way. But now, with everything on the line, I'm faced with a choice that could compromise everything I've stood for.

And yet, through all of this, Bella's face remains in the back of my mind, a constant distraction I can't afford. Why does she matter? Why is she still here, taking up space in my thoughts when I should be focused on the survival of my company?

I push back from my desk and start pacing the length of my office. I need to get a grip, to focus on what's in front of me. But no matter how hard I try, I can't shake the feeling that Bella Swan is going to be more than just a passing thought. She's already broken through the walls I've carefully built around myself, and that's a problem I don't know how to solve.

Of course, I knew her name immediately after our encounter. A quick word to my assistant, and within minutes I had everything I needed to know about her. But the more I think about it, the more I realise that knowing her name isn't enough. I want to know more—much more.

I'm Edward Cullen, for Christ's sake. My reputation precedes me. I've built up a massive portfolio of work with high-profile clients and investors. I've constructed buildings across the globe and laid the foundations of a legacy. I've done everything I could to right the wrongs I committed in my past, to try and make my parents proud.

"Mr Cullen, your brother's on the line," my assistant's voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

Emmett knows I'm busy.

"Ugh, tell him to wait," I command.

"He said you'd say that, so he told me to let you know it'll only take two minutes," she replies, sounding like she's practised this exchange for my usual response.

"Fine, put the idiot through," I growl, lifting the phone to my ear.

Emmett's voice comes through the line, rougher than mine, with that easygoing edge he's always had, despite everything.

"Hey, Eddie. I know you're busy, but I wanted to invite you to my birthday drinks this Friday. Alice is already in—said she wouldn't miss it, though she's keeping it low-key because of the fashion show on Saturday."

I can't help the sigh that escapes me. "Emmett, I've got a million things on my plate right now. You know how it is."

There's a pause on the other end, just long enough to feel the shift in the air. "Yeah, I know how it is," Emmett says, his voice flat. "But it's my birthday. It's not like I'm asking for much. Alice is making time, even with her big show coming up. And before you ask, no, I wasn't at your fancy soirée last night. You know I'm not comfortable in a room full of suits."

I lean back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling, trying to push away the growing frustration. "Emmett, I'm up to my neck in deadlines and meetings. I can't just drop everything to have a few drinks."

"Right," he mutters, the irritation clear now. "Because your life's so much more important than spending time with your own brother. Got it."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, forcing myself to stay calm. "Don't do that, Emmett. You know it's not like that."

"Isn't it?" he snaps. "You've always got some excuse, some reason why you're too busy for me. Alice manages to find the time, even with her show coming up. But I guess I'm not high-profile enough for you, am I?"

"That's not fair," I argue, though the words feel weak even to me.

"Maybe not, but it's the truth. Just forget it, Edward. Enjoy your deadlines. I'll see you around—maybe."

Before I can respond, the line goes dead. I stare at the phone, a mix of guilt and annoyance churning in my chest. I should have handled that better, but I can't afford to think about it now. There's too much at stake.

Still, Emmett's words linger, and for a moment, I wonder if maybe I'm losing more than just a night out.

No sooner do I set the phone down than the door to my office swings open. I barely have time to collect my thoughts before Felix strides in, filling the room with his presence. He's a large man, easily towering over most, with broad shoulders and arms covered in tattoos that peek out from under the sleeves of his impeccably tailored suit. His mere appearance demands attention, a stark contrast to the polished corporate types I'm used to dealing with.

Behind him, his assistant—a petite woman with sharp eyes—follows closely, her heels clicking against the marble floor. She doesn't say a word as she steps aside, letting Felix take the lead. I rise from my chair, trying to match his commanding presence, but before I can say anything, she nods curtly and exits the room, leaving us alone.

Felix's gaze sweeps over my office, taking in every detail before settling on me. His eyes are dark, calculating, and I can feel the weight of his scrutiny. This is a man who's seen it all, and right now, I'm just another piece on his chessboard.

"Edward Cullen," he rumbles, his voice as imposing as the rest of him. "You've been a busy man."

Felix doesn't waste time with pleasantries. He lowers himself into the chair opposite my desk, the leather creaking under his weight, and fixes me with that unnerving stare.

"Let's get straight to it," he says, leaning forward slightly. "I've reviewed your portfolio, Cullen. Impressive work, but I can see you've hit a rough patch."

I nod, keeping my expression neutral. "That's one way to put it."

Felix smirks, but there's no warmth in it. "I'm offering you a lifeline. A significant cash injection to get your firm back on track. In return, I'll be taking a controlling interest—51% of the company."

I tense at the suggestion, but before I can voice my objection, Felix continues.

"Don't worry. You'll still have operational control, the face of the company, the one clients see. But I'll be calling the shots on the bigger decisions. My team will handle the finances, ensuring everything runs smoothly. This will keep your business afloat, and more importantly, it'll keep you in the game."

The words hang in the air like a noose, tightening with every second. A controlling interest means he would own the company in all but name, leaving me as little more than a figurehead. But with the numbers staring me down, it's clear I'm running out of options.

Felix leans back, watching me with those piercing eyes. "It's a fair deal, Cullen. More than fair, considering the alternatives."

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Felix's offer is dangerous—it's clear he's looking to take control, but I'm not ready to hand over my life's work without a fight.

"Fifty-one percent is steep," I say, leaning forward to meet his gaze. "I'm willing to discuss a partnership, but not at the cost of losing my company. Forty percent. You'll have significant influence, and I'll retain majority ownership."

Felix doesn't flinch, but I can see the wheels turning in his mind. He's not used to being countered, especially not by someone in my position.

"You're in no place to negotiate, Cullen," he says, his tone icy. "Forty-five percent is as low as I'll go. And don't think of it as losing control—you'll still be running the show day-to-day. But I need to ensure my investment is protected."

I swallow hard, knowing this is my last chance to push back. "Forty-five percent, and I keep the final say on all architectural and creative decisions. You handle the finances and operations, but the designs—the vision—remain mine."

Felix considers this for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he studies me. Finally, he nods, though the concession feels more like a victory for him than for me.

"Deal," he says, extending his hand. "But remember, Cullen, this isn't just business. It's survival. Don't make me regret giving you this chance."

I hesitate for the briefest of moments before shaking his hand, the weight of the decision settling over me like a shroud. This deal might save my company, but it's clear that working with Felix will come at a cost—one I may not fully understand yet.

I don't take Felix's hand just yet. Instead, I lean back in my chair, trying to buy myself a moment to think. "Before I agree to anything, I need to know more about your plans for my company. This isn't just a financial transaction for me—it's my legacy."

Felix's expression hardens, but he doesn't break eye contact. "I understand that, Cullen. But legacies don't pay the bills. My plan is simple: streamline operations, cut unnecessary costs, and focus on high-margin projects that will bring in steady revenue. No more passion projects that drain resources without guaranteed returns."

His words sting because he's right. Some of my more ambitious designs have put a strain on the company's finances. But they're also what sets us apart—what keeps my work in demand.

"I'm not interested in turning this firm into just another cookie-cutter operation," I say, my voice firm. "We've built our reputation on innovation. If we lose that, we lose everything."

Felix narrows his eyes, clearly not used to being questioned. "Innovation is all well and good, but it needs to be profitable. My approach will keep your firm alive and, more importantly, keep it growing. You can't afford to keep playing the maverick when the numbers are stacked against you."

I feel the weight of his words, the cold logic behind them. But still, something doesn't sit right. "And what about the projects we're already committed to? What happens to them?"

Felix shrugs, a casual gesture that belies the seriousness of the situation. "We'll evaluate each one. If a project isn't meeting our profitability targets, it'll be shelved or restructured. The goal is to keep the company lean and efficient."

I don't like the sound of that—abandoning projects halfway through isn't just bad for business, it's bad for my reputation. "I'm not going to walk away from commitments we've made to our clients."

Felix's expression darkens, and for a moment, I can see the steel behind his calm demeanor. "This isn't about sentiment, Cullen. It's about survival. You need to decide what's more important—your pride, or your company."

The room feels colder as I process his words. Felix is offering a lifeline, but it's clear that taking it means surrendering more than just a percentage of my company. It means giving up a part of myself.

"I need time to think," I finally say, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.

Felix's eyes bore into mine, and for a moment, I wonder if he'll push harder. But then he nods, though there's no warmth in the gesture. "Take your time, but not too much. Opportunities like this don't come around often. And the longer you wait, the more leverage you lose."

He stands up, towering over me once again. "I'll expect your answer soon, Cullen. Don't keep me waiting."

With that, he turns and strides out of the office, leaving me alone with the storm of thoughts swirling in my head. The door closes behind him with a heavy thud, echoing the weight of the decision I now face.

Thanks for reading x