Chapter 27
Chapter 27
CAMILLE’S POINT OF VIEW
“Neurix Technologies,” Victoria said, sliding the folder across her desk. “Twenty–seven employees. Promising neural interface technology. Currently entertaining acquisition offers.”
“And?” I asked, waiting for the catch. With Victoria, there was always a catch.
“And you’ll be handling the acquisition.” She leaned back, expression unreadable. “Alone.”
My heart stuttered. After eight months of shadowing Victoria at Kane Industries, this was my first real test.
“Their valuation?”
“They’re asking ninety million. They’re worth sixty–five, at most. I want them for fifty.”
炯
“When do negotiations begin?”
“Two hours. The meeting is set for eleven at our downtown offices.”
My head snapped up. “Today? You’re giving me two hours to prepare?”
A
hall, cold smile played at her mouth. “In business, opportunities rarely announce themselves weeks in advance. Besides, you’ve had eight months of preparation.
“Who am I negotiating against?”
“Marcus Whitfield.”
The name hit me like a physical blow. Whitfield, legendary venture capitalist, notorious for destroying less experienced negotiators.
In my suite, I changed into a power suit, charcoal gray pinstripe, crisp white blouse, three–inch heels. The woman in the mirror looked confident, capable, born to command respect.
A perfect illusion.
The executive conference room was already set up when I arrived. Through the glass walls, I saw the Neurix team and Whitfield–tall, broad–shouldered, emanating authority.
The introductions blurred past. Dr. Morris, Neurix CEO. His team. And Whitfield, whose handshake came with assessing eyes that told me everything. He was surprised to see me, not Victoria. An easier target.
For thirty minutes, I led a technical discussion about their patents and milestones, highlighting weaknesses. Morris and his team grew increasingly uncomfortable,
Then Whitfield struck.
“Axiom is offering eighty–five million,” Morris blurted. “With twenty percent contingent on Phase II results.” “We’re prepared to offer sixty–five million, all cash, no contingencies,” I countered.
Whitfield’s smile was thin. “Sixty–five versus eighty–five? No contest. And frankly, I’m surprised Victoria sent you with such an unprepared position.”
The mention of Victoria stung exactly as he’d intended. He was playing me now, not just the Neurix team. The situation spiraled Victoria’s target price seemed impossible. Even seventy million looked unrealistic.
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“Wait,” I said desperately. “Kane can offer seventy–five million. All cash. No contingencies.”
The words hung in the air. I had no authority to make that offer.
“Eighty,” I added, going all in. “Eighty million, final offer
But it was too late. Morris signed with Axiom. Right there i Kane Industries‘ own conference room.
“Send Victoria my regards,” Whitfield said quietly as he left “And a word of advice–next time, she might want to handle important negotiations herself.”
Four hours later, I stood in Victoria’s office, waiting for judgment.
“Explain,” she said.
“I failed,” I said simply. “Whitfield outmaneuvered me at every turn.”
“You offered eighty million for a company I valued at fifty.
“Yes,”
“Why?”
“Because I panicked. Because I wasn’t prepared to walk away with nothing.”
“All true,” she agreed. “And all inexcusable.”
The word cut deeper than any physical pain from my combat training,
“I set you up to fail,” Victoria continued, her tone unchanged. “Deliberately.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I chose Neurix specifically because I knew Whitfield was representing Axiom’s bid. I gave you impossible parameters. I wanted to see how you would handle absolute failure.”
“This was a test?”
“Everything is a test, Camille. I thought you understood that by now.”
“Then why?”
“Because in real battle, you don’t get to choose your conditions. Rose won’t fight fair when the time comes. She’ll use every advantage, every dirty trick. I needed to see how you perform when everything is against you.”
The logic was brutally sound, but the humiliation remained burning in my chest.
And how did 1 perform
“Poorly,” she said without hesitation. “You lost composure You made emotional decisions. You allowed Whitfield to manipulate your fear of disappointing me.”
That’s
“But,” Victoria continued, “you didn’t break. You didn’t run. You came back to face the consequences. That’s something.”
She moved to the window. “When I first started building Kane Industries, I lost a major contract negotiation. My first real opportunity, squandered through Inexperience.
“What did you do?”
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after the next opportunity with twice the preparation.”
“And did you succeed?”
“No. 1 failed again. But differently. New mistakes. More sophisticated errors. Until eventually, success became the expectation, not the exception.” Her gaze was measuring. “That’s what separates winners from losers, Camille. Not whether they fail, but what they do with that failure.”
Something shifted inside me. The humiliation was still then, but beside it grew something harder. A cold certainty that I would never allow myself to be outmaneuvered like that again.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“Now you document every mistake. Study them. Learn from them. And prepare for your next test.”
“Which is?”
“Not yet determined. But rest assured, it will come when you least expect it. When you’re most vulnerable. Just like today.”
Just like life. Just like revenge.
As I walked toward Dr. Reed’s office later, something crystallized inside me. Victoria had engineered today’s failure as a forging fire, heating the metal of my character to shape it into something stronger, sharper.
Rose had spent years undermining me, ensuring I remained weak and pliable. Today’s humiliation was just one more step in becoming someone she would never recognize Someone she could never again manipulate or defeat. Next time, I wouldn’t be the one walking away empty–handed. Next time, I would be the predator, not the prey. And there would be no mercy.
The glass shattered against my bedroom wall, water splashing across expensive wallpaper. The sound wasn’t enough to match the storm inside me. I grabbed a crystal paperweight from my desk and hurled it at the mirror. Cracks spiderwebbed across my reflection, fracturing my image into dozens of broken pieces.
“Ms. Kane?” A knock at my door. Security staff, doing their rounds. “Is everything alright?”
“Fine,” I called back, voice steady despite the chaos surrounding me, “Just dropped something‘
“Do you need assistance?”
“No. Leave me alone.”
I sank onto my bed, staring at the fractured mirror image. Not quite Camille Lewis anymore. Not fully Camille Kane yet. Caught between identities, between failure and redemption. The drive home from Victoria’s office replayed in my mind, James’s professional silence, my rigid posture, the weight of humiliation pressing down on my shoulders.
Victoria would still be at dinner with Barrett, smoothly negotiating the deal I’d destroyed. Showing him what real business acumen looked like while I hid in my room throwing things like a child.
My phone buzzed Victoria: “Deal closed. Terms favorable. Full debrief tomorrow, 7AM.”
No mention of my failure. No reassurance. Just business, moving forward despite my misstep. The world
continued turning, deals continued closing, money continued flowing. With or without my successful
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I moved to my bathroom, studying myself in the unbroken mirror there. Eight months of training had transformed me physically. My body was lean and strong from Jason’s combat lessons. My face refined by Dr. Torres’s work. My appearance crafted to project power and authority.
But none of it mattered if the woman beneath these changes remained weak. If I still retreated when challenged, still doubted myself when pushed, still buckded under pressure.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. “Ms. Kane?” Mrs. Chen, the housekeeper. “I’ve brought your evening tea.”
1 hesitated, not wanting anyone to see the evidence of my outburst. But hiding the mess would be hiding from my failure.
“Come in.”
Mrs. Chen entered, her eyes taking in the destruction before returning to professional neutrality. Eight months in Victoria Kane’s household had taught her discretion.
“Your chamomile tea,” she said, setting the tray down as if nothing were amiss. “With honey, as you prefer.” “Thank you.” I made no excuses for the mess. Just accepted the service as my due. As Victoria would.
“If I may, Ms. Kane…” she paused at the door. “Even Ms. Victoria sometimes breaks things. The difference is, she makes sure to aim better next time.”
The comment jarred me from self–pity. Victoria Kane, breaking things? The woman who embodied control and precision? It seemed impossible.
I moved to my desk and opened my laptop. Time to shift from emotional reaction to analytical response. Victoria would expect my complete breakdown of the failed negotiation tomorrow morning.
For hours I typed, capturing every moment of the meeting with Barrett. Where had I misread the situation? What signals had I missed? How had he seen through my careful facade to the insecurity beneath?
By dawn, I’d finished two documents. The first: a clinical analysis of every business mistake. The second: a deeper examination of my emotional vulnerabilities during the negotiation. More honest. More revealing of the gap between appearance and reality.
The broken glass remained untouched as I dressed for my meeting with Victoria. My reflection in the bathroom mirror showed dark circles under my eyes, carefully concealed. No physical evidence of weakness would be visible today.
Victoria stood at her office window when I arrived, silhouetted against the morning light. She didn’t turn as I
entered.
“I reviewed your analysis,” she said. “The second document was more interesting. More honest than I expected.” “Lying to myself about yesterday’s failure would only guarantee its repetition.”
“Your assessment of your emotional state was particularly revealing. The way Barrett triggered your old Insecurities with a few carefully chosen words and expressions.”
“He read me too easily.
“Because you still wear those insecurities like a second ski” Victoria’s voice was unsparing. “Eight months of training have changed your external presentation but not your internal landscape.”
“How do I change that?”
Victoria studied me “You hamin bu —-
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points that shaped your perception. Your sister undermined you. Your husband betrayed you. Your parents. overlooked you. These experiences shaped how you see yourself, how you expect others to see you.”
“And I need to forget those experiences?”
“No. You need to recognize they’re historical, not predictive.” She leaned forward. “Barrett expected you to retreat because that’s what your history conditioned you to do. Your sister expects the same. The power lies in doing the unexpected.”
Victoria moved to a cabinet and withdrew a photograph, setting it between us.
“My first major business failure,” she said. “Thirty years ago. I lost a hundred–million–dollar acquisition to a competitor because I miscalculated their financing capacity”
The photo showed a younger Victoria beside William Hargrove, both smiling with champagne glasses raised. “This was taken the day after that failure, when I secured a two–hundred–million–dollar deal that made the previous loss irrelevant.”
“What happened between the loss and this victory?”
“I spent one hour destroying my office. Broke every piece of glass. Threw a paperweight through my window.” Her lips curved slightly. “Then I spent twenty–three hours creating a strategy that would make everyone forget my failure.”
The revelation stunned me, Victoria Kane, controlled, calculating, seemingly untouchable, had once demolished her own office in rage. Had channeled that fury into strategic brilliance.
“That’s what I mean by aiming better,” she continued. “Emotional reactions have their place. But they must serve a purpose, not merely release tension.”
I straightened in my chair. “I want to set up a simulation room. Bring in professional actors to recreate high- pressure scenarios. People trained to use the same tactics Barrett employed.”
Victoria’s expression sharpened. “Elaborate.”
“We use simulated negotiations, but they’re too controlled. I need to be blindsided, forced to respond to unexpected psychological triggers. If I can maintain control when deliberately provoked, I can handle anyone in real business.”
“Your timing is premature. You’re not ready.”
“I wasn’t ready for Barrett either,” I countered. “Yet you put me in that room, knowing failure was possible.” Victoria fell silent, her expression unreadable. Finally, she reached for her tablet.
“Three months,” she said. “You’ll meet with Rose in exactly three months, after you’ve closed the Microlink competitor acquisition. The meeting will be strictly controlled. You’ll present as a minor associate from Kane Ventures.”
Relief and anxiety washed through me. She was agreeing with conditions, but agreeing.
“By the time you sit across from your sister,” Victoria contiqued, “you will be unrecognizable not just physically but fundamentally. The woman she knew will be completely erased, replaced by someone she cannot manipulate, cannot understand, cannot defeat.”
“What about Barrett? He’s already dismissed me as incompetent.”
“You don’t handle it. You use it. His underestimation creates strategic advantage. When su naasis
competit m
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She checked her watch. “Now you have fifteen minutes to prepare for your first modified training session with Jason. He’s incorporating psychological triggers into your combat scenarios, as you suggested.”
I stood, recognizing the dismissal. “Thank you for seeing potential beyond my failure.”
Victoria looked up. “Failure is data, Camille. Nothing more Nothing less. How you use that data determines your future.”
As I moved toward the door, she added, “And have Maintenance repair your mirror. Broken reflections serve no purpose except to distort your self–perception. You need clear vision for the path ahead.”
The elevator descended to the training facility where Jason waited. Three months to prepare for two critical tests, the business acquisition that would redeem my professional reputation, and the meeting with Rose that would prove my personal transformation.
Three months to complete my transformation from victim to victor. From prey to predator. From broken to unbreakable.
“Heard you had a rough day yesterday,” Jason said as I entered.
“Yesterday is data,” I replied, stepping onto the mat. “Today is application.”
o hurt in …
His eyebrow raised, but he nodded with approval. “Good. Because today’s going to hurt in ways you haven’t experienced yet.”
I smiled, a small, fierce expression that felt unfamiliar. “I’m counting on it.”