The grand ballroom of the Waldorf-Astoria glittered with chandeliers casting soft light over the crowd. The scent of fine cigars mingled with that of freshly polished wood and expensive perfume. You stood near the edge of the room, your gloved fingers tracing the rim of a champagne glass, eyes scanning for one person: Nikola Tesla.

He was hard to miss. Tall, impeccably dressed, with an air of quiet arrogance that could ignite a room without a single spark. Tonight, he was the star attraction—again. But you had no intention of letting him bask in glory unchallenged. After all, you were Edison’s daughter, and the rivalry between your families was as infamous as the man himself.

A familiar voice broke your thoughts.

"Miss Edison."

You turned. Tesla stood behind you, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Mr. Tesla," You replied, offering a tight smile.

"I suppose even a man obsessed with isolation needs a social occasion now and then."

He chuckled softly. "Even a man of science must observe the currents of society. And what brings you here? Spying on the competition?"

"I prefer the term 'studying.' It's important to understand obsolete technology before moving forward."

His smile didn’t waver.

"Obsolete? Bold, coming from someone whose father clings to direct current as though it's a sacred relic."

"And yet, it’s still lighting homes across the country," You shot back. "Practicality has its merits."

Tesla tilted his head, intrigued.

"Practicality is for those who fear innovation."

The air between you crackled, invisible sparks flying in a way only the two of you could feel. It wasn’t just rivalry—it was a clash of ideologies, minds, and something else neither of you dared to name.

"Perhaps you'd care to test that theory," You said, raising an eyebrow. "Explain to me why your alternating current is supposedly superior."

Tesla’s eyes lit up, as though you had flipped a switch.

"Gladly." He said and took a sip from his champagne.