The Ice Princess of Fifth Avenue
The Unknown
Scene: CEO Office – Valtieri Global Holdings, Downtown Manhattan
Internal Company Messaging System – Secure Line | 9:17 AM
Celeste Valtieri
Why is my 9:00 AM appointment still not in my office?
Audrey Chase
Mr. Lambert is stuck in traffic. His driver said another ten minutes.
Celeste Valtieri
He was warned about punctuality. This is his last delay. Confirm his arrival or cancel the meeting. I don’t wait for men.
Audrey Chase
Understood, ma’am. I’ll notify him.
Celeste Valtieri
Also, cancel my lunch with those clowns from Zenith Financial. Send them a gift basket.
Celeste Valtieri
Something pathetic.
Celeste Valtieri
Nothing expensive. They’re not worth it.
Audrey Chase
Of course. Low-tier fruit basket. No nuts. No wine. Confirmed.
Celeste Valtieri
Efficient as always. Thank you, Audrey.
Audrey Chase
It’s why you pay me well, ma’am.
Celeste Valtieri
And why I tolerate small talk before coffee.
Celeste Valtieri
Bring my Americano.
Celeste Valtieri
No sugar.
Celeste Valtieri
No lecture about my caffeine consumption.
Audrey Chase
Already brewing. And your blood pressure is your problem, not mine.
Celeste Valtieri
Smart girl. You’ll live long in this company. Unlike Lambert.
Incoming Message – Private Line: UNKNOWN CONTACT
Unknown contact
Heard you’re cleaning house again, Principessa.
You missed a spot.
Celeste Valtieri
Who is this?
Unknown contact
Someone who knows the Valtieri crown is slipping.
We should talk.
Celeste Valtieri
If you want to talk, come to my tower. If you’re too much of a coward, don’t waste my time.
Unknown contact
Cowards hide behind walls of glass, little queen.
I’ll be in touch.
Celeste Valtieri
Make sure it’s worth the risk. I don’t leave bodies out of sentiment.
Audrey Chase
Your Americano is here. Should I prepare security?
Audrey Chase
You’re glaring at your screen like you’re about to declare war again.
Celeste Valtieri
Not war, Audrey.
Celeste Valtieri
Business.
The Crown that Never Slips
Location: Valtieri Global Holdings, Penthouse Office — Fifth Avenue, Manhattan
The rain outside clawed its way down the skyscraper’s glass facade like fingers desperate to get inside. From her corner office on the sixtieth floor, Celeste Valtieri barely registered it. Manhattan looked cleaner under gray skies — a lie, but a beautiful one. Much like herself.
She sat alone in the throne she called her desk chair. Leather, Italian. Just like her bloodline. Just like the quiet violence wrapped in the name stitched onto the building behind her.
Her fingertips hovered over the sleek black keys of her private messaging terminal.
She didn’t smile when her assistant’s response flashed across the screen.
Audrey Chase
Your Americano is here.
Audrey Chase
Should I prepare security?
Audrey Chase
You’re glaring at your screen like you’re about to declare war again.
Celeste Valtieri
Not war, Audrey.
Celeste Valtieri
Business.
Without glancing up, Celeste pressed the intercom.
Celeste Valtieri
Send it in.
The door opened. Audrey entered, her brown bob damp with the city’s humidity, her ever-reliable glasses slipping down her nose. Coffee in one hand, a manila folder in the other. Efficient. Practical. Loyal. Celeste trusted her as much as she trusted anyone. Which meant very little.
Audrey Chase
You’ve got threats already this morning. Must be Monday,
Audrey placed the coffee down on the pristine surface of the black marble desk.
Audrey Chase
Unknown number. No trace. No mistake — they knew who they were calling.
Celeste Valtieri
Everyone knows who they’re calling when it’s me.
Celeste’s voice remained smooth, even as her eyes burned cold through the floor-to-ceiling glass.
Celeste Valtieri
It’s the people who forget why that tend to die.
Audrey Chase
Do you want me to escalate this to Nicolo and his team?
Celeste Valtieri
Not yet. Let them sweat.
Celeste’s gaze dropped briefly to the file Audrey placed beside the coffee. Brown folder. No logo. That meant internal. Sensitive. Something too delicate to trust to email encryption.
Audrey Chase
Lambert’s here,
Audrey Chase
Flustered. Apologetic. As expected.
Celeste Valtieri
As expected,
Celeste Valtieri
Keep him waiting. Ten minutes. Then bring him in.
Audrey’s lips twitched — almost a smirk, but not quite.
Audrey Chase
Shall I remind him he’s lucky to still have a seat at your table?
Celeste Valtieri
No need. I’m sure my silence will do the job for me.
[Private Message: Secured Line – Audrey Chase → Head of Security, Nicolo Bianchi]
Audrey Chase
Lambert’s on site. Miss Valtieri is watching something unfold. No orders yet.
Audrey Chase
Stay sharp. Unknown contact this morning, tone hostile.
Audrey Chase
Keep eyes on elevator cams, penthouse level. Discreetly.
The door closed behind Audrey. Silence reclaimed the office, save for the rain and the distant hum of Manhattan beneath her. Celeste finally allowed herself a sip of coffee. Bitter. Dark. Unapologetic. Just how she preferred it.
Her mind circled the unknown message like a shark around blood in the water.
Unknown contact
Heard you’re cleaning house again, Principessa.
You missed a spot.
A challenge. A warning. A man trying to sound clever, not realizing how very short his shelf life would become.
She pressed a finger to the comm panel again.
Nicolo Vittore Bianchi
Boss.
His voice crackled through like gravel sliding over steel. Calm. Dangerous. The man had been her shadow since she inherited this poisoned empire.
Celeste Valtieri
Shadow the Lambert meeting. Quietly. Audrey’s got eyes on the feed. If anyone breathes wrong on my floor, I want them buried.
Nicolo Vittore Bianchi
Already in place.
Nicolo Vittore Bianchi
And the mystery caller?
Celeste Valtieri
I let them make the first move. That’s when people reveal where they bleed.
Nicolo Vittore Bianchi
Understood.
Celeste leaned back in her chair, the city reflected in the glass behind her like ghosts of empires already dead. Her reflection watched her with the same cold indifference she gave the world.
War wasn’t declared in blood anymore.
It started with words in the dark.
With messages unsigned.
With men who forgot who still held the crown.
She didn’t forget a thing.
The Lambert Meeting
Location: Valtieri Global Holdings, Conference Suite | Manhattan
The glass walls of the executive conference suite shimmered with rain and city light, distorting the view like a mirage. Beyond them, Manhattan pulsed with indifferent life. Inside, the air hung heavier — with power, expectation, and fear.
At the head of the table sat Celeste Valtieri.
Perfect posture. Perfect poise. Perfect silence.
Her navy pinstripe suit was armor. Her icy blue gaze, a loaded gun.
She hadn’t spoken since entering the room. Not a single word.
And that silence had stretched thin across the backs of the men seated before her.
Richard Lambert — CFO of Lambert Holdings, a man who had once thought himself too wealthy, too important to wait for anyone — now sat like a schoolboy summoned to the principal’s office. His hand tightened around his expensive Montblanc pen as if that might anchor him.
To his left and right, his advisors shifted uncomfortably. No one here was immune to reputation. No one here was stupid enough to forget who sat at the head of this empire.
Richard Lambert
Miss Valtieri,
Lambert began with a forced, oily smile,
Richard Lambert
I appreciate you making time. The weather—
Celeste Valtieri
You’re late.
Celeste’s voice cut through the room like a scalpel through silk.
Celeste Valtieri
You were warned about punctuality.
Her gaze moved down the table like a predator selecting which throat to bite first.
Celeste Valtieri
You arrive late to my building. You arrive late to my floor. You arrive late to my time.
Richard Lambert
There were—complications with the—
Celeste Valtieri
No one cares.
Celeste Valtieri
This meeting was not scheduled for your convenience. It was scheduled as a courtesy.
Celeste’s fingers tapped once against the polished black marble of the table. The sound was soft.
Celeste Valtieri
That courtesy has now expired.
One of Lambert’s men — younger, brasher, probably from the PR department — opened his mouth to speak. Nicolo Bianchi moved before the words left his throat.
A shadow in black at the far end of the room.
Nicolo didn’t need weapons to terrify. His eyes did the work for him.
The man’s mouth snapped shut. His chair scraped subtly backward.
Celeste’s attention didn’t waver.
Celeste Valtieri
You’re here to beg for my continued support. For the survival of your sinking ship of a company. And yet… you keep me waiting.
Lambert’s skin shone with nervous sweat.
Richard Lambert
We— We value Valtieri Global as a partner. We—
Celeste Valtieri
You value my money. You value my reputation keeping your creditors from chewing off your limbs like dogs at a corpse. Let’s not insult each other’s intelligence further.
Nicolo shifted at the wall. No words, just the soft flex of tattooed knuckles adjusting his watch. A silent predator counting down the minutes until bloodshed was necessary.
Her presence filled the room even more when she moved.
Celeste Valtieri
Here’s what’s going to happen, Mr. Lambert.
She leaned forward, hands braced on the table.
Celeste Valtieri
You will sign over controlling interest. Today. To me. You will resign, effective immediately.
Celeste Valtieri
You will walk out of this building with your pride intact because I am gracious.
Celeste Valtieri
Because I am merciful.
Celeste Valtieri
Because I am sparing you the humiliation of having your sins paraded through the media like a dead rat held up by its tail.
Her smile widened, teeth sharp behind velvet words.
Celeste Valtieri
You will take this gift I am offering you and disappear.
A silence thick enough to choke on.
Richard Lambert
Of course…
Richard Lambert
We’ll need to review the terms—
Celeste’s gaze snapped to Nicolo.
Celeste Valtieri
Bring the documents.
Nicolo moved like a shadow peeling itself from the wall. A leather folder slid across the table to Lambert without a word. Black, embossed with the Valtieri crest — a lion strangling a serpent.
Lambert’s signature trembled as he signed.
The ink wasn’t even dry before Celeste spoke again.
Celeste Valtieri
Thank you, Mr. Lambert. You’ve just ensured your children will still be able to afford private school.
She straightened, smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from her sleeve.
He didn’t need to be told twice.
As the door closed behind them, Nicolo remained. Watching. Waiting.
Nicolo Vittore Bianchi
You shouldn’t waste your talent on worms like him,
Nicolo said quietly. His first words since entering the room.
Celeste Valtieri
I don’t waste talent,
Celeste gaze fixed on the Manhattan skyline.
Celeste Valtieri
I sharpen it.
Her reflection in the glass smiled back at her. Cold. Beautiful. Untouchable.
Nicolo’s hand hovered briefly over his pocket. The silver glint of his Zippo lighter caught the light before vanishing again.
Celeste Valtieri
More threats came this morning,
Nicolo Vittore Bianchi
I know.
His voice was lower now. For her ears alone.
Nicolo Vittore Bianchi
I’ll find them. I’ll kill them.
She turned then, finally looking at him.
For a moment, something soft flickered in those glacier-blue eyes. Something no one else ever saw.
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