The boardroom, once a battlefield of raised voices and shattered trust, now sat in a reflective silence as the clock ticked past 9 a.m. It had been six long months since Jolie Smith—Will Smith's eldest brother—was arrested for his covert involvement with the dark forces that had been threatening the very roots of the Smith family empire.
Time had moved on, but for Will, healing had not come easily.
He entered the room slowly, the once-fierce patriarch now looking slightly aged, his usual assertiveness dimmed by the sting of betrayal. His sons—Raymond, Ryan, Mark, and Anthony—watched him rise to the front with a mixture of relief and concern. The silence was almost unbearable. The heavy weight of their father's absence from work for the past six months hung in the room.
Will stood before the very same screen that had once lit up with plans and profit charts—but this time, there was no presentation just yet. Only a man who had lost a part of himself and was trying to trust again.
"It's been six months," Will began, his voice low, steady, but heavy. "Six months of asking myself how I missed the signs. Six months of waking up in the middle of the night, hearing my brother's voice in my dreams. Not the traitor—but the boy I grew up with. The man I built this empire beside."
He looked up, emotion tightening his jaw.
"I didn't just lose a partner—I lost my brother. And for a while, I lost my faith in all of you too."
He scanned the room, eyes landing on his sons, his brothers, his nephews.
"I began to wonder… if Jolie could turn, what stops the rest of you? I started seeing shadows everywhere. I stayed home. I sulked. I doubted the very family I'd taught to stand as one."
Ryan stood slowly. "But we never stopped believing in you, Dad," he said. "We held the fort, not because we had to—but because we wanted to. Because everything we are came from what you built in us."
Will swallowed hard and nodded.
"I know that now. I see that now."
A faint smile curved Raymond's lips as he stepped forward. "Then let's build again—only this time, let's build something that tells the world the Smiths are still one. Strong. Unshaken. And born anew."
He pressed the remote, and the screen lit up with a bold new title:
Project Phoenix – A New Dawn for the Smith group
"This," Raymond began, "is more than a business venture. It's a rebirth. A renewable energy initiative based in Birmingham—combining solar, wind, and educational outreach in one facility. A clean-energy plant and an innovation hub that will train and equip young engineers from low-income communities across the UK."
Peter leaned forward. "This would reshape the public's view of us after Jolie's betrayal. It's not just damage control—it's reinvention."
Mark spoke with fire. "We'll fund scholarships, create apprenticeship pipelines into Smith Group, and form alliances with environmental bodies across Europe. Let our legacy be one that uplifts."
Ryan continued, "We've allocated a £300 million budget to launch this, with projections to expand to two more cities within five years. But this—this Birmingham site—this will be our flagship. Our heart."
Anthony, usually quiet, added with conviction, "We were wounded… but we're not broken. And like the phoenix, we rise higher from the ashes."
Will slowly approached the screen, his gaze steady. "Project Phoenix… it's exactly what we need. Not just a statement to the world, but to ourselves. We've lost a brother—but we haven't lost our bond. We are Smith Group. We don't collapse. We evolve."
He turned to the room, eyes sharp again, but this time not with suspicion—but hope.
"Let's rise."
As the boardroom filled with applause, nods, and handshakes, the Smith family knew the tides had finally turned. They had endured betrayal, suffered doubt, but were now walking into the fire together—not to be consumed, but to be reborn.
***
She appeared.
But not as the Catarina everyone once dismissed as the quiet maid in the Smith household.
No, this woman was unrecognisable—draped in an elegant, sleeveless gown that shimmered softly beneath the warm lights. The plain red velvet was gone. Her hair was swept into a flawless beehive, her poise commanding the attention of everyone present.
And then, their eyes met.
Tears welled up instantly, blurring the world around them. Seven months apart—seven months that had felt like seven lifetimes.
Catarina moved first. Without hesitation, she kicked off her red heels and dashed across the marble floor, oblivious to the startled Americans who stared, stunned, at the sight of such a breathtaking woman throwing herself into the arms of a man like that.
But she didn't care.
She leapt into Ryan's embrace, her arms wrapping tightly around him. He caught her like he'd been waiting a lifetime for that very moment. Their hug was desperate, trembling—like neither wanted to ever let go again.
Ryan kissed her—softly, repeatedly—around her tear-filled eyes.
"I can't believe I'm still alive to see you this close again," he whispered.
Catarina pulled back slightly, her fingers brushing his face. "You've grown so lean, Ryan..."
"You weren't around to make sure I ate," he replied, voice low. "While you were gone, my heart was barely alive."
She cupped his cheek. "I promise—I'll never leave your side again, Ryan."
"You won't even get the chance to," he said with a grin.
They both chuckled, touching each other's faces like children rediscovering their favourite toy. The love was raw, real, and louder than words.
***
Flashback – The First Encounter
Ryan had been lounging on his bed, deeply immersed in a video game, when a soft knock tapped at his door.
It opened gently.
A young woman stepped in, carrying his breakfast tray. "Good morning, sir. You requested this."
He barely looked away from the screen. "Mum hired a new maid again? I swear, I see a different face every week."
The woman said nothing at first, merely placing the tray neatly on the table. Then she replied, "This one's not leaving. You'll see."
Her voice was steady—striking, even. Confident.
Ryan looked up properly for the first time, surprised by her poise. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I don't fail at anything I choose to do."
That made him smirk. "Yet you failed at getting a proper job."
He expected her to snap. Instead, she smiled calmly and moved to tidy his bed. "And you failed at keeping your room clean. Funny how life works."
She picked up a brush hidden behind the curtain and swept through the mess effortlessly. "You fail at hygiene, I failed at employment. We all have our struggles."
Then she turned toward the door. "Ring the bell when you're done with your food, sir."
With that, she walked out.
He couldn't move. Couldn't speak. No woman had ever disarmed him like that. Not with looks—though she was beautiful—but with presence.
There was something commanding about her. The way she spoke. The way she moved. Like she already knew the space belonged to her.
***
Two days later, she returned with his food again.
By now, he had already asked around. Her name was Catarina.
She smiled softly as she stepped in and noticed the neatness of the room. "Nicely kept, sir."
She set the tray down, but Ryan was already standing. "Someone else brought my food yesterday," he said.
"Yes," she replied, still polite. "We rotate. Yesterday I took Mr Raymond's coffee."
He stepped closer, eyes intense. Then, almost possessively, his hand slid around her waist.
"I want only you to bring my food from now on."
She froze slightly, eyes wide as she met his gaze. "Why is that, sir?"
"Call me Ryan," he murmured. "I don't want you far from me again."
That was just the beginning.