Sisters II: The Emily Saga

CARLOS...

The black Cadillac SUV glided like a phantom through the streets of Manhattan, part of a sleek, silent convoy that drew every wandering eye. It was a sight New Yorkers had grown used to— an imposing fleet that sliced through traffic without hindrance, each vehicle gleaming, tinted, and bulletproof. The lead SUV, with its bullet-resistant sheen and the low hum of power beneath its hood, carried the man everyone feared and admired.

Carlos Antonio.

In the back seat, sprawled like royalty on plush leather, Carlos exuded a presence that even silence dared not interrupt. Six feet tall, every inch carved like marble, his athletic build radiated dominance without him needing to lift a finger. Clad in a black tailored suit that hugged his broad shoulders and narrow waist like it was born for him, Carlos was the epitome of control and charisma. His face was a perfect contrast of sharp jawlines and soft menace, and those piercing dark eyes stayed locked on his phone screen, scanning live market charts with a predator's focus.

Beside him sat Susan, his personal assistant— poised, polished, and loyal. Her long brunette hair was tied in a sleek ponytail, her outfit professional but fitted, her tablet cradled against her lap. Her job was as much about managing Carlos's empire as it was about anticipating his moods and meals.

"Sir, should I order the extra sauce chicken wings you like as usual?" she asked with a soft smile, her voice gentle but careful.

"Sure," Carlos replied, without lifting his gaze. No nod. No smile. Just a word, clipped and cool.

Susan nodded quickly. "Okay, sir."

Then, after a beat, Carlos dropped the phone onto his lap, turned his head, and looked at Susan. Locked eyes. The air in the car stiffened.

She swallowed.

"On second thought," he said, voice deep and slow, "don’t bother. No wings today."

Her fingers tightened around the tablet, but she nodded with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Yes, sir."

The silence settled back in, broken only by the soft hum of the engine.

A few blocks later, Susan leaned slightly toward him, her curiosity bubbling through her composure.

"If I may ask, sir... why the change of heart? You’ve never turned down the wings before."

Carlos raised an eyebrow, his head turning slowly. He dropped the phone back onto his lap again.

"You said what?" he asked, clearing his throat, his stare freezing her on the spot.

"Don’t get me wrong, sir," she quickly added, eyes wide. "I mean no offense."

"None taken," Carlos said, his voice clipped. "I just don’t feel like it today. That’s all. Case closed."

And that was that. He picked up his phone again, ending the conversation with finality.

Minutes later, the glass titan that was AXSpaceline headquarters emerged on the horizon like a cathedral of innovation and power. The towering complex stood at the heart of Manhattan, shimmering in the morning sun, reflecting the city's pulse.

As the convoy rolled into the underground parking structure, security detail in sleek suits and earpieces moved like clockwork. One guard, already stationed, stepped up and swung the door open without hesitation.

Carlos stepped out with a grace that belonged to emperors. His energy shifted the air. He didn’t walk— he claimed territory with every step.

Susan followed closely behind, clutching a neat folder to her chest.

Two guards ahead. Two behind. One to each side.

The formation moved toward the elevator. One of the guards reached out and pressed the button. The doors split open, revealing a spacious chrome interior. Inside, the guards took their corners. Carlos stood tall in the center, Susan by his side, silent, attentive.

The elevator began to rise.

25 floors.

The ding signaled their arrival. The doors split again, and the scene beyond shifted dramatically.

The floor was alive with quiet hustle. Staff at their desks, typing rapidly, focused on glowing screens, the low hum of machinery creating a professional rhythm. Until...

Carlos stepped out.

Silence slammed into the room like a rogue wave.

Fingers hovered above keyboards. Heads turned. Eyes widened. Jaws dropped. Whispers died in throats. Carlos Antonio was here— in the flesh. The man behind the empire, the untouchable, had descended among mortals.

No one expected it. He didn’t need to be here. Delegation was his norm. That he showed up in person meant something.

But he didn’t look left or right. Didn’t pause or nod.

His path was straight. Regal. Flanked by his guards, Susan right behind, they moved across the floor. Office workers shrank back in their chairs. Some stole glances, others held their breath.

Then they reached the far corridor—glass-walled, sunlight streaming in, framing Carlos like a painting.

Just as he made a right turn toward his office, a scene interrupted his calm.

A scuffle.

Three women. Two against one. The lone woman pinned to the wall, the other two hurling words and fists.

A thud. A punch to the gut.

Carlos didn’t break stride.

In seconds, his guards surged forward. The two bullies were snatched back mid-blow. The injured woman crumpled to her knees, clutching her stomach, nose bleeding.

Carlos stopped.

Face unreadable. Eyes sharp.

"What’s going on here?" he asked. Calm. Too calm.

The two women stuttered in unison, trembling. "We’re so sorry, sir... we... it was a misunder—"

"Get these two out of my sight," Carlos cuts them off, barely raising his voice. "I want them Dismissed. Fired."

No room for debate.

"Please, sir! We’re sorry! Please!" one cried as they were dragged away.

"We didn’t mean it—!"

"Too late," Carlos said, not even looking at them anymore.

They were gone.

Carlos crouched beside the injured woman. She was trembling, eyes glistening with tears, breath ragged.

"You okay?" he asked, voice lower now, softer.

"I... I’m fine, sir," she replied, her voice shaking. But it wasn’t pain that filled her. It was something else. Disbelief. Awe. She couldn't meet his gaze. The Carlos Antonio was speaking to her.

He tilted his head slightly, examining her. "You're not fine. Take her to a clinic," he instructed one of his guards. "Make sure she’s okay, and bring her back to me."

"Yes, sir," the guard nodded, helping her up.

As they turned to go, Carlos glanced over his shoulder.

"Miss. What’s your name?"

She froze. Turned.

Eyes wide. Heart pounding.

"Emily," she said, her voice breaking into a smile. "Emily, sir."

"Are you single by any chance, Emily?"