A/N: Fact: I don't own a working computer at the moment, so updates are highly unlikely to be soon. And it doesn't help that this site has gotten so horrendous lately, and not just the stories. Children on here think they run the site just because they share a common love of Jeff freakin' Hardy and flame every story that doesn't involve him dating Maria. Please.

Power. Greed. Money.

Wrestling was a corrupt business, but it was the business that Stephanie McMahon was born into, and it was the business she would die in.

"I love you, Stephanie," her husband, Hunter, more commonly known as Triple H, whispered as he gently nuzzled the top of her head. Stephanie had to hold in a groan, the discomfort of her husband's exceedingly large nose was uncomfortable against her skull.

"I love you, too, Hunter. What do you want?" Stephanie could see right through her husband's facade. They were married for years under the influence of wrestling. Stephanie believed that Hunter did love her, but he loved wrestling more. He wanted to be the top dog in the top company no matter what, and he would not even spare his wife's feelings for his own selfish gain.

"Aren't you going to a creative meeting later?" Hunter inquired, his eyes brightening.

"Yes, I am. Why?"

"I want to be Superstar of the Year, babe, and I thought that you--"

"You thought that I'd be your ticket in, huh?" Stephanie guessed, more assuming than guessing.

"Well...yeah. I mean, you ARE the boss's daughter, and I AM the boss's daughter's husband. It only works. Besides, none of these chumps and kids in the back knows what it takes to be a real Superstar. I've been in the business for how long?"

"And I've been in the business for how long, Hunter? Honestly, do you really think you'd still be here if you weren't married to me? You don't control me. You don't tell me what to do. I have more stake in this company than you ever will. Do you understand? Besides, we've already decided on who is going to be Superstar of the Year, and it's not you. You should be lucky that you were even nominated, considering you were out for half of the year. Again," Stephanie ranted. Even though her husband was a larger than life professional wrestler, she would not let him hold her down.

"Yeah, and what does that get me? My face on the Titantron for two seconds?"

"Trust me, Hunter, with your lack of wrestling ability, you're lucky to get even that."


"You're sick. You're demented. I love it!" Edge hollered over the phone, speaking to his former Rated RKO tag team partner, Randy Orton.

"So are you in on the plan?" Randy Orton asked, his carefully groomed eyebrow arching.

"What? You want me to sneak attack the Billion Dollar Princess? Man, she's too preppy for me. Not my style. Besides, I'm on the real A-show, kicking ass. AND I'm the champ. Sorry, Orton, but I'm outski. I have bacon to make and babes to cruise for."

"You're a real help, man. I guess I'll just have to train DiBiase and Rhodes faster. I have to teach them to be venomous vipers...I have to teach them how to kill."

"I think that's my cue to go..." Edge whispered, hanging up his phone.

"I have to teach them how to maim...How to be ruthless...Total disregard for human life...Edge? Are you there?" Randy spoke into the phone, not realizing that Edge had been long gone from the conversation.


"So, Stephanie, have you given any thought to who Superstar of the Year should be?"

"Erm, yes...I have," Stephanie answered her colleague, the name of which she had forgotten. So many employees. So many meetings. So little remembrance.

"Please don't tell me it's going to be Hunter," Stephanie's brother, Shane, mumbled from the corner, rolling his eyes. "I love the guy and all but he's harder to take in large doses than Cena is sometimes."

"You have our father to blame for the Cena debacle, okay, Shane?" Stephanie snapped.

Who would be Superstar of the Year? Yes, she had already decided in her mind who would be given that honor, but she hadn't told anyone. It was a little white lie she told her husband. Would anyone like the idea? Probably not, but this was her domain and her word was her way in this decision, especially since she had to give this award herself.

It would be the one man who made her blood boil, her heart rate speed up, and her knees shake. What he did to her without trying was more than Hunter could ever do to her, even with the most sincere attempt and all the effort in the world.

"I want the Superstar of the Year to be Chris Jericho."