Valuing Only Us

In a high-stakes game of wealth and power, ambition can be a dangerous game. When two young men find themselves entangled in a web of manipulation, will their dreams of success lead to triumph or heartbreak?

Ted Sullivan, a former farm boy turned top wealth advisor, and Alec Young, a privileged heir seeking his own identity, find themselves entangled in a high-stakes game at Kauffman Schwartz. As they rise through the ranks at the investment bank, their secret romance fuels their ambition to create a revolutionary new company. But when Ted is snubbed for an Innovator Award and Alec's manipulative relationship with the daughter of a wealthy investor threatens their bond, both their relationship and moral integrity are at stake.

Haunted by their past traumas, Ted must confront his fears and learn to assert himself against toxic colleagues, while Alec grapples with the weight of his father's expectations. As they exploit connections and manipulate their way to success, they risk losing everything: their company, their relationship, and their very souls.

In a world where loyalty is tested and ambition can lead to ruin, will their love be enough to save them, or will their dreams turn into nightmares?

Excerpt:

Chapter 1
Ted Sullivan

I am a gentle liar and a ruthless charmer: a flawed human with a nutritious personality of sugar and salt, leaving everyone’s bellies satisfied. The salty acid is in my blood, bouncing around the walls of my veins. It’s paired with a sweet, vibrating toxin, not even dialysis can filter. But don’t sweat; I would never lie to you, for I feel we both crave change; we share similar convictions—taking a carnivorous bite of cured corporate revolution. They pretend that the future will sustain us in the same way it had sustained us so far.
Looking out the window, I could still smell the manure and wet soil from circle and square farmlands below, fitted and stacked along highways, nestled at the base of mountains, trailing rivers like an organic game of Tetris played by the Gods of Capitalism. Even the burial remains of dried-up crops were visible, sprouting life replaced by tumbleweeds and metal legs.
My hands rested on my tray table as I ran my finger over the face of my cufflinks, tracing letters S and Y circled in a timeless gold trim, snuggled tight in their velvet-coated box. They seemed to shine a tad brighter as our moment had come. After years of planning, late-night think tanks fueled by cold brew and lead-dense aspirations took their place on stage, sucking in air one last time before the rise of the curtains -- Showtime! The cufflinks were a gift, a gentle reminder of our plan. Alec got them for us us when we began our MBA programs as a reminder we are our company, even though it hasn’t come to fruition yet.
After landing in LaGuardia, I fought the crowd at baggage claim and hailed a cab to the St. Eleanor’s in downtown Manhattan, watching as the iconic city, once only accessible through movies or dreams, grew and circled around me. The awe-inspiring visuals popped my pulse as I zipped deeper into the concrete jungle, nudging closer to ground zero while feeling the VIX volatility of wall street stridulate. The slaughterhouse of high finance.