The Child of Light

7th July 1977 – Miami, Florida

The boardroom was as cold and calculated as the people seated inside it. Walls of glass reflected power suits and expensive watches, while the city's skyline burned bright behind them, the setting sun glinting off skyscrapers that seemed to stretch their egos toward the heavens.

In the centre of the long mahogany table sat two titans of industry—Hannah Beaumont and Phillips Grayson—locked in a silent war of wills, every word dripping with strategy, every glance sharpened like a blade.

Hannah leaned forward, her fingers steepled under her chin, her gaze as sharp as a dagger's point. She was a self-made billionaire, her empire built on sweat, precision, and ruthlessness that was wrapped in a velvet glove of charm. Outsourcing work to rising economies like India, the Philippines, Malaysia, and Indonesia had given her a reputation for delivering projects faster and cheaper than anyone else. She didn't just play the game—she rewrote its rules.

"We're offering a cost-effective solution that reduces overhead by 30%," Hannah said smoothly, her voice steady and confident. "Our international teams are efficient, and our track record speaks for itself. The Burj Khalifa took six years to complete. We can do this in four, at a significantly lower price point."

Across from her, Phillips Grayson adjusted his cufflinks—a subtle flex of inherited power. Old money dripped from every fibre of his bespoke suit, but his charm was as effortless as his wealth. Three generations of business acumen coursed through his veins, and his offer wasn't about cutting costs—it was about prestige.

"Fast doesn't always mean good, Ms Beaumont," he replied, his voice smooth as aged whiskey. "We're offering unmatched craftsmanship, materials of the highest quality, and innovation that will outshine anything Dubai could dream of. Miami deserves more than just a cheap win—it deserves legacy."

The tension in the room thickened. Every executive in attendance could feel the heat of their silent disdain, the sharp-edged compliments barely disguising a brewing storm.

Mr. Donovan, the powerful real estate developer overseeing the tender, cleared his throat. His salt-and-pepper hair and craggy features didn't hide the twinkle of greed in his eyes. "Both proposals are impressive. One offers speed and savings; the other promises quality and innovation. But I don't need either—I need both."

A heavy silence fell.

"Work together," Donovan continued. "Merge the cost efficiency of Beaumont Enterprises with the craftsmanship of Grayson Holdings. Bring me the world's tallest building at a price that doesn't bleed my investors dry—and with a design that makes Dubai's skyline look like child's play."

The shock on both their faces was fleeting. Titans didn't show weakness.

"Agreed," Hannah said coolly, though her stomach twisted at the idea of sharing control.

"Fine by me," Phillips echoed, masking the same distaste behind a polite smile.

Later that evening – The Bellagio Grand Hotel

By 4 PM, they were seated in a high-end restaurant that hummed with Miami's elite. Over expensive whiskey and meticulously plated hors d'oeuvres, their discussion continued—each word a chess move, each concession a veiled attack.

"If your company handles the logistics, we'll take the lead on design innovation," Phillips offered, sipping his drink without breaking eye contact.

"And let Grayson Holdings pocket the bigger share of profits? You're generous with my resources," Hannah shot back, a sly smirk on her lips.

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Just making sure you don't undercut quality for speed. Miami's reputation is on the line, not just our egos."

Her smirk widened. "Speak for yourself, Grayson. I've built empires without a family name cushioning my fall."

The sharp wit hung between them, but something had shifted—a mutual recognition of each other's cunning, ambition, and, strangely, attraction.

But the evening took an unexpected turn when whispers spread through the restaurant: journalists had arrived. The press had caught wind of their sudden collaboration, and the last thing they needed was headlines speculating on secret deals—or personal entanglements.

"We need to get out of here," Hannah muttered, her sharp gaze catching the glint of a reporter's camera.

Phillips nodded, tossing a tip onto the table. "There's a private suite upstairs. No one will find us there."

6 PM – The Bellagio Suite

The air in the room was heavy with tension—not the corporate kind but something far more dangerous. Two powerful egos trapped together, their earlier competitiveness now simmering into something neither wanted to acknowledge.

"I'll sleep on the couch," Phillips said, loosening his tie.

"Suit yourself," Hannah replied, pouring herself another drink. The alcohol wasn't helping—neither was the fact that they kept brushing past each other in the confined space.

It was reckless. Stupid. Completely against their better judgment. And yet, the moment their eyes met again, the inevitable happened.

The air between them thickened, charged with a tension neither boardrooms nor billion-dollar deals could define. Every shared glance lingered just a second too long, every accidental brush of hands felt deliberate. The room, though spacious, suddenly seemed too small for two people who had spent their entire lives controlling every impulse—until now.

Hannah took a slow sip from her glass, her hand steady on the surface but her mind anything but calm. Phillips noticed the way her lips parted slightly, like she was about to speak but couldn't find the right words. For once, her unbreakable composure felt dangerously close to slipping.

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea," Hannah murmured, her voice low, eyes fixed on the city lights outside the window.

"Sharing a room or sharing a drink?" Phillips asked, stepping closer, though neither of them acknowledged the shrinking distance.

She turned toward him, poised to deliver one of her razor-sharp comebacks—but the words never made it past her lips. The sharp lines of rivalry were softening, blurring into something far more dangerous: understanding, recognition, attraction.

"I'm not doing this," she whispered, but the certainty in her voice wavered.

"Neither am I," Phillips replied, though he didn't step back. His hand brushed against hers as he reached for the glass—an accidental touch that felt anything but accidental.

The silence that followed was louder than any argument they'd ever had. A heartbeat passed. Two. Then instinct took over.

The first kiss was sudden and fierce, a clash of ambition and frustration, heat and recklessness. His hand moved to the small of her back as her fingers tangled in his hair. Years of unspoken tension, competition, and hidden admiration surged between them like fire catching dry leaves.

It wasn't tender. It wasn't cautious. It was the unraveling of two people who never let anyone else close enough to see them like this.

Clothes fell away, barriers shattered. Every touch became a silent confession of feelings neither of them had dared to acknowledge until now. This wasn't about business, or winning, or power. It was raw and real—and completely against their better judgment.

Later, as they lay in the quiet aftermath, tangled in sheets and breathless exhaustion, it happened.

A sudden pulse of golden light.

It was subtle, like the flash of a distant storm—or perhaps a trick of the dim room lighting. For the briefest second, the air itself seemed to shimmer. Hannah blinked, her brows pulling together. Phillips's breath hitched, but neither spoke.

Both dismissed it as a momentary illusion. A consequence of too much whiskey, too much heat, and too little sense.

They turned away from each other, the silence between them now heavy with unspoken questions.

By morning, the agreement was unspoken but mutual—this never happened.

And yet, as they dressed in the cool light of dawn, both found their thoughts lingering on the same impossible question:

Was that light real?

Neither of them had any idea that in that reckless, fragile moment, something beyond their control had begun—an unstoppable force that would reshape their lives forever