Chapter 4 Queens at War

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‎The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and Tatiana Miller stepped onto the executive floor.

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‎Tall, statuesque, wrapped in silk and diamonds, she walked like the world belonged to her. Heads always turned when she entered a room, sometimes from admiration, sometimes from intimidation. Tonight, it was both.

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‎The echo of laughter drew her forward. As she approached Brad's office, she paused, catching sight of a woman perched on his desk like it was her throne.

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‎Rachael.

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‎Tatiana smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips. "Of course."

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‎Without knocking, she pushed open the glass doors.

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‎The Clash

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‎Brad's head shot up from where he leaned against the desk, frustration etched across his face.

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‎"Tatiana?" His voice carried surprise and something else.

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‎Rachael turned lazily, her eyes narrowing as she sized up the intruder. "Well, well. Who invited the queen?"

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‎Tatiana's gaze swept over her like a scalpel. "And who are you?"

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‎"Rachael," the blonde replied, swinging one long leg off the desk. "I'm the one who doesn't need diamonds to keep his attention."

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‎Tatiana gave a light laugh, the kind that carried edges sharper than glass. "Darling, diamonds don't keep attention. They deserve it."

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‎Brad pinched the bridge of his nose. "Enough. This isn't a battlefield."

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‎But it was. And both women knew it.

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‎Claire Walks In

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‎The next morning, Claire stepped into the office early, determined to bury herself in work before whispers and insecurities could claw at her again.

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‎She froze.

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‎Inside Brad's office, Tatiana sat elegantly across from him, sipping coffee as though she'd lived there for years. Rachael lounged in the corner chair, scrolling through her phone like she owned the place.

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‎Three sets of eyes turned toward her.

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‎Brad's softened with relief. Rachael's narrowed in irritation. Tatiana's gleamed with curiosity.

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‎"Well," Tatiana said smoothly, setting down her cup. "The famous assistant."

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‎Claire forced a polite smile. "Claire Anderson. Marketing."

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‎"Tatiana Miller," the other woman said, extending her hand with queenly grace. "A pleasure."

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‎Claire shook it, feeling the quiet steel beneath the elegance.

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‎Rachael smirked. "Oh, Claire, sweetheart, you've stepped into the lion's den. Careful not to get eaten."

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‎"Only the weak get eaten," Claire replied coolly, surprising even herself.

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‎Brad cleared his throat sharply. "That's enough. All of you." His tone brooked no argument, but the air in the office remained thick with unspoken war.

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‎Mr. Brown's Advice

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‎Later that day, Mr. Brown cornered Brad in the conference room.

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‎"You're losing control," the older man said bluntly.

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‎Brad's jaw clenched. "They're grown women. I can handle them."

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‎"Brad, listen to me." Mr. Brown's voice was sharp. "Claire, Rachael, Tatiana each one is a storm on her own. Put them together, and you'll drown."

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‎Brad stared out the glass wall at the city skyline. "You think I don't know that?"

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‎"Then stop it before it goes too far."

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‎But Brad couldn't. Something about each woman pulled him, bound him, like gravity he couldn't escape.

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‎JK Fans the Flames

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‎That evening, JK showed up at Brad's penthouse uninvited, tossing his jacket onto the sofa and pouring himself a drink.

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‎"Three women," he said, grinning like the devil himself. "You really are trying to kill yourself."

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‎Brad shot him a look. "Stay out of this."

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‎"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it." JK's smile widened. "Claire's sweet, Rachael's wild, Tatiana's... well, she's a goddess. Honestly, I don't know how you plan to choose. But I do know one thing" He leaned in, eyes gleaming. "When you finally pick one, the others are going to burn this city to the ground."

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‎Brad's silence was answer enough.

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‎JK lifted his glass in a mock toast. "To destruction. My favorite kind of entertainment."

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‎A Dangerous Dinner

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‎Friday night, Brad attended a charity dinner at one of Washington's most exclusive hotels. The room sparkled with chandeliers, champagne, and the chatter of politicians and CEOs.

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‎At his table sat Claire, nervously adjusting her gown under the weight of curious stares. Beside her, Tatiana glowed like royalty, diamonds scattering light across her collarbone.

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‎And then Rachael arrived. Not on the guest list, not properly dressed for such an event but turning every head nonetheless.

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‎"Brad," she said sweetly, sliding into the empty chair with a confidence that made Claire's stomach tighten. "Miss me?"

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‎Tatiana's lips curved in a cutting smile. "This is hardly your kind of club, darling."

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‎Rachael shot her a glare. "And yet, I'm the only one here who doesn't need a title or a diamond leash to make him look at me."

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‎Claire clenched her fork. "Some of us came here to work."

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‎"And some of us," Rachael fired back, "came here because Brad can't seem to let go."

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‎The table went silent. Around them, laughter and music swirled, oblivious to the sparks flying in their corner.

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‎Brad's hand tightened around his glass, his storm-gray eyes flashing. "Not another word. From any of you."

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‎But it was too late. The war had already begun.

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‎The Cliffhanger

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‎After the dinner, as the women drifted into separate cars, Brad lingered in the hotel lobby, tension thrumming through his veins.

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‎He turned when he felt a presence.

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‎Standing by the marble column was Martin Taylor his longtime business rival.

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‎"Quite the entourage you've collected, Nelson," Martin said smoothly, his smile sharp. "Three beautiful women circling you like moths to a flame. Dangerous, isn't it? A man in your position should be careful..."

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‎Brad's fists tightened at his sides.

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‎Martin leaned closer, his voice dropping. "Because if you're not, I might just steal one of them away."

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‎Brad's eyes darkened, but before he could reply, Martin was already walking off into the night, his laughter echoing like a promise.

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