Dont play

The glass elevator of Olympus Architecture & Design felt like a cage. Annabeth Chase leaned her forehead against the cool surface, her reflection staring back at her through a veil of tears. Her soft, brown skin looked sallow under the harsh fluorescent lights, and her light brown boho knotless braids, usually her pride and joy, felt heavy against her shoulders. At five feet tall, she often felt like she had to work twice as hard to be seen in the room, but today, she just wanted to disappear.

She was the top of her class. She was a prodigy in structural integrity. But to Marcus Thorne, the senior lead architect and her current internship supervisor, she was nothing more than a glorified errand girl who had "failed to capture the vision."

He had shredded her blueprints in front of the entire board. He hadn't just critiqued the work; he had called her incompetent. He’d leaned over her, his breath smelling of stale espresso, and told her that "pretty little girls with big dreams" didn't belong in the brutal world of New York skyscrapers.

Annabeth wiped her eyes aggressively, her chest heaving. She didn't want to go home to Percy like this. Percy was her golden retriever, her sun, the man who looked at her like she’d hung the moon. He was 23, gorgeous with his curly blonde hair and those startling blue eyes that always seemed to be searching for her in a crowd. He was a prodigy in his own right, working at Jackson Marine Holdings, the multi-billion dollar conglomerate owned by his father, Poseidon.

Percy was gentle. He was the guy who bought her flowers just because it was Tuesday and made her pancakes shaped like buildings. She didn't want to ruin his evening with her failures.

But when she walked through the door of their Upper East Side apartment, she couldn't hide it. The moment she saw him sitting on the sofa, a laptop on his knees and a goofy grin forming on his face, her composure shattered.

"Hey, Wise Girl, you're home early—" Percy’s voice died in his throat. He was on his feet in a second, the laptop sliding onto the rug, forgotten. "Annabeth? Baby, what happened?"

She collapsed into his arms, her face buried in his chest. He smelled like sea-salt cologne and home. "It’s nothing, Percy. I’m just tired."

"Don't give me that bullshit," he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically sharp, though his hands were infinitely soft as they stroked her braids. "You've been crying. Your eyes are bloodshot. Who did this?"

"My supervisor," she sobbed, the words tumbling out. "Marcus Thorne. He... he tore up the plans for the library project. He said I was a diversity hire, Percy. He said I didn't have the brain for this. He did it in front of everyone."

Percy’s body went rigid. For a split second, the "golden retriever" energy vanished, replaced by something cold and predatory. His blue eyes darkened, looking less like a clear summer sky and more like a churning Atlantic storm. But when he pulled back to look at her, he forced a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"He’s an idiot, Annabeth. You’re the smartest person I know. You’re going to own this city one day." He kissed her forehead, lingering there. "Go take a long bath. I’ll order that Thai place you love. I’ve got some work emails to finish up, then I’m all yours."

Annabeth nodded, sniffing and wiping her nose. "You're not mad?"

"At you? Never," Percy said, his voice dropping to a low, soothing hum. "I’m just going to make sure things get handled. Go on, baby. Go relax."

As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut and the sound of running water filled the apartment, the mask fell. Percy didn't go to the kitchen to order food. He went to his desk and grabbed his phone.

He dialed a number he rarely used after hours.

"Tyson? Yeah, it's Percy. I need you to pull the portfolio for Olympus Architecture & Design. Specifically their current contract with Jackson Marine for the new pier development. And find out everything you can on a guy named Marcus Thorne. I want his tax returns, his mistress’s name, and every building code violation he’s ever signed off on. I want it in ten minutes."

Percy hung up and stared at the wall. People often forgot that while Percy was kind, he was also the son of Poseidon Jackson. Jackson Marine Holdings didn't just own ships; they owned the docks, the logistics, and about forty percent of the real estate developments in Lower Manhattan. They were the apex predators of the corporate world.

Ten minutes later, his phone buzzed. He scrolled through the files with a clinical, icy detachment.

"You fucked with the wrong girl, Marcus," Percy whispered to the empty room.

***

The next morning, Marcus Thorne was feeling confident. He had a meeting scheduled with the representatives of Jackson Marine Holdings to finalize a fifty-million-dollar contract. If this went through, he’d be a partner by the end of the year.

He walked into the high-end conference room at the Jackson headquarters, straightening his silk tie. He expected to see a board of directors. Instead, he saw one man.

Percy Jackson sat at the head of the mahogany table. He wasn't wearing his usual casual hoodies. He was in a bespoke charcoal suit that cost more than Marcus’s car. His blonde hair was pushed back, and his blue eyes were as cold as icebergs.

"Mr. Thorne," Percy said, not standing up. "Take a seat."

Marcus blinked, confused. "I was expecting your father, or perhaps the COO."

"You get me," Percy said, his voice dangerously quiet. He slid a folder across the table. "I’ve been reviewing the proposal your firm submitted for the pier project. It’s trash."

Marcus gasped. "Excuse me? That proposal was vetted by our top—"

"It’s trash because the lead architect is a pathetic, mediocre bully who wouldn’t know a load-bearing wall if it collapsed on his ego," Percy interrupted. He leaned forward, the sunlight hitting his face, making him look less like a college-aged prodigy and more like a vengeful god. "You spoke to Annabeth Chase yesterday."

Marcus froze. The color drained from his face. "I... she’s an intern. A student. I was simply providing professional feedback—"

"Professional feedback?" Percy’s hand slammed onto the table, the sound echoing like a gunshot. "You called her a diversity hire. You told her she didn't have the brains for this industry. You made her cry, you piece of shit."

"Now look here, Mr. Jackson, I don't know what she told you, but—"

"She didn't tell me to come here," Percy hissed, his voice dropping to a terrifying growl. "She thinks I’m at the gym. She thinks I’m the 'nice guy' who brings her coffee. But here’s the reality of your situation, Marcus. Jackson Marine Holdings is pulling the contract. Not just this one. Every single project we have with Olympus Architecture is being terminated effective immediately, citing 'gross incompetence and hostile work environments' created by senior staff."

Marcus began to tremble. "You can’t do that! That’s hundreds of millions of dollars! The board will sue!"

"Let them," Percy shrugged, leaning back and crossing his legs. "My father’s legal team is larger than your entire firm. And while they’re tied up in court, I’m going to make sure these documents—the ones detailing the kickbacks you took from the concrete suppliers in 2022—find their way to the District Attorney’s office."

Marcus’s mouth hung open. He looked like he was about to have a heart attack. "How... how did you..."

"I have resources you can’t even fathom," Percy said, his eyes narrowing. "You have two choices. Choice one: You go back to your office right now. You issue a formal, written apology to Annabeth Chase, stating that her work is exemplary and that your previous comments were unfounded. Then, you resign. You leave the state. You never work in architecture again."

"And choice two?" Marcus whispered.

Percy smiled, but there was no warmth in it. It was the smile of a shark. "Choice two is that I ruin you. I don't just fire you. I make sure you’re blacklisted from every firm in the country. I make sure your assets are frozen during the investigation into your fraud. I make sure you end up in a windowless cell wondering how a 'pretty little girl' managed to end your career without even lifting a finger."

Percy stood up, smoothing his suit jacket. He looked down at Marcus with utter disgust.

"Annabeth is a queen. She is the smartest, most talented woman in this city. And the fact that you thought you could breathe the same air as her, let alone insult her, is an insult to me." Percy leaned down, his face inches from Marcus’s. "If I ever hear that you’ve spoken her name again, or if I see your face within five miles of her university, I won't use the company. I’ll come find you myself. And I promise you, I’m much less professional than my father's lawyers."

Marcus Thorne didn't say a word. He couldn't. He scrambled out of his chair, nearly tripping over his own feet, and bolted for the door.

Percy watched him go, his expression softening as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. The storm in his eyes dissipated, replaced by that familiar, soft glow. He dialed Annabeth’s number.

"Hey, baby," he said, his voice turning back into the sweet, golden retriever boyfriend Annabeth knew. "Yeah, I just finished up some boring meetings. Listen, I was thinking... why don't you quit that internship? I heard a rumor that the head of Atreus Designs—you know, the firm you actually like?—is looking for a junior consultant. I might have a connection there. My dad owes the CEO a favor."

He listened to her voice on the other end, her tone sounding much brighter than the night before.

"Really? You think I could get in there?" she asked, sounding breathless and hopeful.

"I know you can, Wise Girl," Percy said, walking toward the window to look out over the city he was currently reshaping for her. "You’re the best. Everyone is starting to realize that. Oh, and don't be surprised if you get a weird apology email from Thorne today. I heard he’s having a bit of a breakdown and resigning. Must be the stress."

"Wait, seriously?" Annabeth laughed, a beautiful, bubbly sound that made Percy’s heart swell. "That’s crazy! Karma is a bitch, I guess."

"Yeah," Percy grinned, his eyes gleaming with a secret, protective fire. "A real bitch. I’ll pick you up at six? I love you."

"I love you too, Percy. You’re literally too good to be true."

Percy hung up and tucked his phone away. He had a few more calls to make to ensure Marcus’s transition out of the industry was as painful as possible, but for now, he was satisfied. Nobody made Annabeth Chase cry. Not on his watch.