The Ice Princess of Fifth Avenue
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.
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