Alpha Prince Revenge Which Comes First

It was a crisp November morning, the kind that carried a bite in the air sharp enough to make even New Yorkers hustle a little faster. Elena Monroe adjusted the scarf around her neck as she pushed through the revolving doors of the Empire Financial Times building. The familiar scent of coffee, paper, and ambition hit her as she stepped into the bustling lobby, the click of her heels swallowed by the hum of phones and murmured conversations.

The elevator dinged, and Elena slid inside, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror-lined walls. Hazel eyes framed by thick lashes stared back, her hair twisted into a neat bun that screamed "professional." But professionalism was just a veneer; underneath it was a woman hungry for more. Today wasn't about her usual assignments-profiles on hedge fund managers or exposés on shell companies. No, today she was walking into the lion's den.

Her editor, Jack Greer, had sent her a cryptic email at 6:00 a.m.

Subject: Hastings. You're up.

She knew what that meant. Nicholas Hastings. The golden boy of Wall Street turned kingmaker. A man whose name was synonymous with power, control, and scandal.

Elena stepped off the elevator and made her way to Jack's glass-walled office. He was leaning back in his chair, a cigar he wasn't allowed to smoke clamped between his teeth. When he saw her, he waved her in without preamble.

"Elena, sit."

She dropped into the chair across from him, folding her arms. "Hastings? Really? Isn't he untouchable?"

Jack grinned, the kind of grin that made her stomach sink. "Nobody's untouchable. Not even him. We've got a tip. Something big. And you're the best we've got."

Elena arched a brow. "Flattery, Jack? What's the catch?"

"No catch." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. "We've been hearing whispers. Shady deals, hostile takeovers, maybe worse. I want you to get close. Find out what he's hiding."

"And how exactly am I supposed to get close to someone like Hastings? He doesn't do interviews."

"That's why I hired you, kid. You're resourceful. You'll find a way."

Elena opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself. This was what she wanted-a chance to prove she could handle the big leagues. But Hastings wasn't just big; he was a storm, and anyone who got too close usually got swept away.

"Fine," she said, standing. "I'll take it. But don't expect miracles."

Jack smirked. "I never do."

Two days later, Elena found herself standing in the lobby of Hastings International, clutching a notepad she didn't need and wearing a blazer that suddenly felt too tight. The building was a monolith of steel and glass, towering over the city like a fortress.

She had managed to secure a meeting with his PR team under the guise of writing a feature on corporate innovation. It was a flimsy excuse, but it was enough to get her foot in the door.