Blurb：
When finance titan Avery Holloway abandons a billion-dollar syndication meeting upon hearing her sister Olivia's desperate call, she triggers a war against the billionaire Kirk family. Skylar Kirk, the pink-haired Stellaris Corp heiress, shreds Olivia's Cambridge exchange portfolio in Professor Davies' office, boasting about her father Leland Kirk's donated science wing. But the real bomb drops when Leland enters – Avery's estranged father who publicly claims Skylar and socialite wife Brandi Kirk as his "only family".Witness Avery's ice-cold vengeance unfold as she:
- Deploys black-phone-tier corporate influence against Stellaris Corp
- Exposes Leland Kirk's double life through a lethal call to her CEO mother
- Weaponizes Olivia's academic brilliance against Skylar's bought credentials
- Turns the Kirk family's mink-coated arrogance into their downfall
Dark academia meets ruthless dynastic warfare when meritocracy clashes with Stellaris Corp's money-powered legacy. Will the Holloway sisters' bond survive Leland's earth-shattering betrayal?
Content：
§01The projected faces of the international stakeholders on the far wall of the boardroom were a silent, nodding chorus.
Their voices, piped in from Zurich and Tokyo, had dissolved into a low, meaningless hum in my ears.
My focus was entirely on the frantic, insistent vibration buzzing against the polished obsidian of the conference table.
My personal phone.
Olivia.
With a calm I didn't feel, I raised a hand, silencing the Swiss banker mid-sentence.
“One moment, gentlemen.”
My thumb swiped across the screen.
The line connected, and I didn't need to speak first.
A choked, ragged sob tore through the phone's speaker.
“Avery…”
“Liv? What is it? What’s wrong?” I kept my voice low, turning away from the curious glances of my team. “I’m in the middle of a global syndication meeting.”
“They stole it,” she wept, her voice so broken it was barely a whisper. “The Cambridge spot. Someone… someone just took it.”
The Cambridge exchange program.
My mind instantly flooded with images of her.
Images of the faded sticky notes covering every square inch of her bedroom wall, scrawled with organic chemistry formulas and lines of Chaucer.
Images of her eyes, shadowed and bloodshot from countless nights spent hunched over textbooks in the university library.
Images of her pure, unadulterated joy the day she’d gotten the preliminary acceptance email.
It wasn't just an academic honor for her; it was the culmination of a life lived for a singular, shining dream.
The obsidian table felt cold beneath my suddenly numb fingers.
The global syndication deal could wait.
“Stay right where you are,” I said, my voice now a blade of ice. “Don't speak to anyone. I'm on my way.”
I ended the call and stood, my chair scraping back with a sharp, discordant sound.
“Gentlemen,” I announced to the silent, projected faces. “An urgent family matter. My senior VP will take over. We’ll reconvene tomorrow.”
I didn’t wait for a reply.
As I walked out, I was already dialing my assistant.
“Cancel my next two hours. Get me a car downstairs. Now.”
The drive through Manhattan was a blur of yellow cabs and concrete canyons.
All I could see was my sister’s face, not as the brilliant, resilient young woman she was, but as the small, fragile girl I’d always protected.
The girl whose entire future had just been stolen.
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