The Billionaire's dilemma

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‎The city of Washington DC glittered under the night sky, its skyline a blend of history and modern ambition. The marble dome of the Capitol glowed against the stars, but across town, a glass-and-steel skyscraper rose like a monument to capitalism Nelson Global Headquarters

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‎Inside its top floors, light spilled from wide office windows long after most of the city had gone home. Few dared work as late as their boss, but then again, Brad Nelson wasn't a man who knew how to rest.

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‎Brad sat in his penthouse office, the skyline behind him reflecting off the polished glass. A tall figure with sharp cheekbones and eyes the color of storm clouds, he exuded the kind of effortless power that drew people in before he even spoke. Thirty-four years old, a self-made billionaire, he was Washington's most eligible bachelor. Yet, despite the wealth, despite the women who circled him at every gala and fundraiser, Brad felt the weight of a silent emptiness.

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‎He leaned back in his leather chair, loosening his tie. His adviser, Mr. Brown, stood across the desk, papers in hand.

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‎"You've signed five contracts today," Mr. Brown said, adjusting his glasses. "One more deal and you'll own half of DC."

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‎Brad gave a faint smile. "And yet, the other half will still be waiting for me tomorrow."

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‎Mr. Brown chuckled, though his tone quickly turned serious. "Brad, you need more than contracts. You need balance. Someone... to share all this with."

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‎Brad's eyes shifted to the window where the city lights flickered like distant stars. He didn't answer.

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‎The Encounter

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‎The following morning, Brad walked the glass corridors of his empire. Workers straightened nervously when he passed, as though his presence alone demanded excellence. Most of them knew him only as a shadowy legend who ran the company from above, rarely pausing long enough to notice anyone at their desks.

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‎But that morning, something different caught his attention.

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‎A woman stood by the copy machine, cursing under her breath as she tried to fix a jammed tray. Her dark hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, and the slim cut of her blouse hinted at a figure that could have been pulled from a model magazine. Yet it wasn't her looks alone that made Brad pause. It was the fire in her expression, the boldness in the way she muttered at the stubborn machine as though she wasn't afraid of being overheard.

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‎"Damn thing," she said, yanking the paper tray. "One more tantrum and I'm tossing you out the window."

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‎Brad stopped, his footsteps echoing against the polished floor. The woman glanced up, and her eyes widened slightly when she saw him. For a second, she froze the CEO himself standing in front of her but then she straightened her shoulders and smirked.

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‎"Mr. Nelson," she said smoothly, recovering faster than most would. "I suppose I've just threatened company property in front of my boss."

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‎Brad studied her with quiet amusement. "The copy machine deserves it. I've hated that thing since the day it arrived."

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‎Her lips curved into a grin, and something electric passed between them. Not fear. Not the usual forced politeness he got from employees. Something different.

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‎"What's your name?" Brad asked.

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‎"Claire Anderson," she replied. "Marketing department."

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‎"Claire." He repeated her name slowly, as if testing how it tasted on his tongue. "You've been here long?"

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‎"A year. Long enough to know the copy machines are the real villains around here."

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‎Brad's laugh was low and genuine. The sound made Claire's heart skip a beat.

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‎For the first time in months, Brad felt something stir inside him something alive. He didn't say it, but he was already intrigued.

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‎The Promotion

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‎That evening, in his office, Brad tapped his pen against a file folder. Mr. Brown sat across from him again.

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‎"Claire Anderson," Brad said thoughtfully. "Marketing. What do you know about her?"

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‎Mr. Brown raised a brow. "Bright. Ambitious. Good with ideas. A little unorthodox, but her department likes her." He paused. "Why do you ask?"

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‎Brad leaned back, a subtle smile on his lips. "Because starting tomorrow, she's moving up. I want her closer. Assign her to executive projects."

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‎Mr. Brown's eyes narrowed knowingly. "Closer, sir?"

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‎"Closer," Brad confirmed, his tone leaving no room for debate.

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‎Mr. Brown sighed. "You're playing with fire."

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‎"Then let it burn," Brad murmured, almost to himself.

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‎The Strip Club

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‎Later that week, Brad attended a private party with his best friend, Jace Kraner, or as everyone called him, JK. If Brad was sharp and controlled, JK was the opposite reckless, charming, a playboy in a designer suit.

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‎"Brad, you need to loosen up," JK said, handing him a glass of whiskey. "Women are lining up for you, and all you do is sit in your glass tower. Live a little."

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‎They ended up in a neon-lit strip club on the outskirts of the city, a place Brad would normally avoid. But then she appeared.

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‎On the stage, under the dim lights, a woman moved with dangerous grace. Blonde curls framed her face, and her eyes glittered like secrets waiting to be told. Her body swayed to the music, commanding the attention of every man in the room.

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‎Brad's gaze locked on her, and he couldn't look away.

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‎When she descended from the stage and brushed past him, she leaned close enough for her perfume to intoxicate him.

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‎"Name's Rachael," she whispered, lips curving into a wicked smile. "And you look like trouble."

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‎Brad felt the heat of her voice burn into his chest. In that instant, he knew he wouldn't be able to let her go.

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‎The Restaurant

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‎Two nights later, Brad sat in an upscale restaurant alone, scanning the menu. Across the room, a woman caught his eye.

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‎She was unlike the others tall, elegant, dressed in a silk dress that screamed class. She carried herself like a queen, chin tilted slightly, eyes cool and confident.

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‎When her card was declined at the counter, a rare flush of embarrassment crossed her flawless features. Before she could protest, Brad was already there, sliding his black card across the counter.

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‎"Allow me," he said smoothly.

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‎She turned to him, eyes widening. Then, recognition flickered everyone knew who Brad Nelson was.

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‎"Why?" she asked suspiciously.

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‎"Because I wanted to," Brad answered simply.

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‎The woman hesitated, then gave a slow, dazzling smile. "I'm Tatiana. And you, Mr. Nelson, have just bought yourself my attention."

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‎Brad didn't miss the way her eyes sparkled with calculation.

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‎The Foreshadowing

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‎Back in his penthouse that night, Brad poured himself a drink and stared at the city. Three women now lingered in his mind.

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‎Claire, with her fire and charm.

‎Rachael, with her dangerous allure.

‎Tatiana, with her elegance and mystery.

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‎Each so different. Each pulling at a part of him he didn't know he was missing.

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‎JK's words echoed in his head: "Women will destroy you, Brad. Mark my words."

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‎Brad lifted his glass, watching the whiskey catch the light. He didn't know yet how right JK might be.

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‎Because soon, these women would collide and his life would never be the same.

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