The click of my Louboutin heels echoed like a threat across the marble lobby floor.
Heads turned.
Some too fast, some pretending they hadn't been staring at me since I stepped out of the black Aston Martin parked right outside the glass doors like a warning shot. Their eyes widened half shock, half confusion, and the rest… well, admiration, because that's what happens when the Queen finally decides to step into her own damn castle.
I smiled politely at the receptionist who nearly choked on her coffee when she saw me.
"Good morning, Miss Whitmore," she stammered, standing up so fast her chair squeaked.
"Morning, love," I replied, my voice syrupy sweet and smooth enough to pour over ice.
Her gaze flicked to the elevator behind me like she wasn't sure if she should announce me or warn someone upstairs. Oh, they hadn't seen me in almost two years. Not since I'd walked out of this building, the good little wife, arms wrapped around a man who would rather fuck my best friend than run an empire.
Now I was back. And I didn't knock.
The elevator ride was quiet except for the soft hum of the music. I caught my reflection in the gold-trimmed mirror, lips painted blood-red, chin tilted at the perfect angle.
By the time the doors opened on the 35th floor, word had spread. You could feel it. Like static in the air. Assistants paused. Phones weren't being answered. Secretaries blinked like they were seeing a ghost.
I ignored them.
Two junior executives actually bumped into each other because they weren't watching where they were going. I could hear one whisper, "Is that Valeria Whitmore?"
No, darling.
It's Valeria Devereaux now.
I walked straight past them, toward the frosted glass doors of the boardroom where my dear sister was playing CEO with my company.
My hand reached out, nails tapping twice against the door. I didn't wait for permission. I pushed it open.
The chatter inside halted like I'd fired a bullet.
Twelve board members in their overpriced suits, a few senior managers, and right at the head of the table, Camilla. Her legs crossed neatly, pen in hand, looking exactly like a corporate goddess.
Except I owned this empire. She just babysat it while I played wife.
Her lips parted, fake surprise arranged perfectly across her face like she hadn't just been caught mid-scheme.
"Valeria?" she breathed, standing too quickly.
I smiled. Tilted my head. "Oh, don't stop on my account."
The room was frozen.
I walked in slow, each step intentional. Every man in that room couldn't look away. Every woman glanced at me, then at Camilla, then back at me, sensing something had shifted but not knowing why.
Camilla recovered first. Of course she did. "This is a surprise," she said sweetly, walking towards me with open arms. "We weren't expecting you."
I let her hug me, light as air, like I wouldn't snap her spine if I wanted to. She was such a fake bitch.
"Surprises keep life interesting, don't they?" I murmured against her cheek, then pulled away before she could breathe.
She gestured nervously. "We're in the middle of a quarterly board meeting..."
I cut her off with a smile sharp enough to bleed. "Perfect timing then."
Her eyes flicked toward the board, hoping someone would rescue her. No one moved.
I turned toward the head of the table the seat she had no right to sit in.
Without looking at her, I walked around the long glass table, slow and deliberate. "You don't mind, do you, Camilla? I'll just take my usual seat."
Her smile cracked. "Of course."
I pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat down like I'd never left. Crossed my legs. Rested my hands on the table.
She took the seat beside me, stiff, trying to recover.
"Gentlemen, ladies," I began, voice smooth like velvet and venom, "Please, continue. I'd love to hear what you've been up to while I've been… distracted."
The CFO, Mr. Harrington, cleared his throat nervously. "We were discussing the recent merger proposal, Miss Whitmore."
"Good." I leaned back, gaze sliding lazily around the table. "And how much is my signature worth to them these days?"
Silence.
Camilla jumped in too fast. "Valeria, we can catch you up later."
I cut her off again without looking at her. "Funny. I didn't realize I needed catching up on my own empire."
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
I smiled wider, resting my chin on my hand. "Proceed."
The next twenty minutes, I let them speak. I nodded. Asked sharp, impossible questions. Names. Numbers. Deals. I watched Camilla squirm beside me every time I knew a detail she didn't think I would.
And then, when the meeting wrapped and everyone started to shuffle their papers, I leaned back and said casually, "One last thing."
Everyone paused.
I looked at Camilla sweetly. "I'd like to start attending these meetings again. Regularly."
Her expression cracked so beautifully, I wanted to frame it.
"I think it's time I stopped being just a pretty name on the company papers." I let my gaze sweep the board members, one by one. "You all deserve to know who really owns this empire."
Camilla's voice came too tight, too controlled. "What are you doing here, Valeria?"
I smiled like the devil in red lipstick.
"Just saying hello."
I stood without another word, sliding my chair back so smoothly it barely made a sound. The entire room stayed frozen, oxygen sucked out of the air.
Camilla, ever the gracious hostess in a burning house, caught up quickly.
"Val, why don't we go to my office?" she said, voice sugar-dipped but tight around the edges. "We have so much to catch up on."
I glanced over my shoulder at her, let my eyes glide lazily down the length of her figure, smiling like I knew every skeleton in her closet.
"Lead the way, sister."
The corridor outside the boardroom felt heavier now, the staff pretending not to stare as we passed, their eyes darting to me and away again. I let them. Let the whispers crawl behind me like silk ribbons.
Camilla's heels clicked beside mine, sharp and quick.
Her office was two doors down.
The moment she closed the door behind us, the smile dropped an inch. Just enough to show the cracks.
I walked to the window without asking, looking out over the skyline, letting her watch my back.
"So," I started, voice light as air, "You've done well for yourself."
Camilla folded her arms, stepping around her desk. "We've all done well, Valeria. I've just been… keeping things running."
I turned, leaning back against the glass. "Running them straight into boredom, maybe."
She smiled thinly. "Some of us prefer stability."
I tilted my head. "Is that what you call it?"
Her office smelled like fresh flowers and expensive perfume. Too perfect. Too sterile.
"How's the merger proposal going?" I asked innocently, dragging my gaze over her carefully organized desk, the perfectly stacked papers.
Her smile sharpened. "You heard the board. It's all under control."
I nodded slowly. "Under control… That's good. Daddy always liked you to keep things neat."
Something flickered behind her eyes.
I pushed off the window and wandered around her office like I owned the place which I did.
"Tell me, Camilla… I was reading through some old files last night.."
Ha! Last night ..so funny cause of we were to say last night ....then that would be the night I dead met a strange being and was reborn a year earlier.
Any ways let's continue. "...and I couldn't help but wonder what's the current percentage of shares I still hold? I mean, you've been handling things so well while I was busy playing house, I almost forgot I own majority, didn't I?"
Her smile didn't falter, but her eyes sharpened. "Of course. Nothing's changed. Your shares are untouched."
I clicked my tongue. "Hmm. Good."
I stopped in front of her desk, fingers tracing the edge lightly. "You are such a good sister, I appreciate you."
She sat down now, crossing her legs like she wasn't dying to throw something at me. "Why all the sudden interest, Valeria? After two years of silence."
I met her gaze dead-on. "Well, you know how it is. Sometimes a woman wakes up one morning and realizes… she's been too kind."
Camilla's lips twitched like she wanted to laugh but wasn't sure if she should. "Is that what this is? A wake-up call?"
I smiled slowly, walking toward her shelf of whiskey bottles her little indulgence. I poured myself a glass without asking.
"Something like that," I murmured, turning back to her. "You've done a marvelous job, really. Steady hands. Clean books. Even kept the vultures fed."
She leaned back, folding her arms. "So, what now?"
I sipped, letting the whiskey burn on my tongue. "Now? Oh, nothing dramatic, darling. I thought I'd pop in. Attend a few meetings. Reconnect."
Her eyes narrowed a fraction. "Reconnect."
I smiled wider. "You always ran things so well while I was busy being a good friend, wife...tsk and sister of course… but isn't it funny how things can change with a snap of your finger." I snapped my fingers. "And just like that boom."
Camilla's smile tightened. "You've always been dramatic."
I tilted my glass toward her. "I know."
She stood now, coming around the desk toward me, slow and poised. "You know, Val," she said sweetly, "we've all worked very hard to keep this company steady. It'd be such a shame if old wounds reopened."
I laughed under my breath, draining the last of the whiskey. "Oh, I agree."
I set the glass down, turning toward the door.
"But you know me…" I glanced back over my shoulder, my smile razor-sharp.
"I never leave wounds open. I stitch them up real tight… and then I make sure they never bleed ever again."
I opened the door without waiting for her reply.
"See you around, sister." I smiled blowing a soft cute menacing kiss and walked out.
The door clicked shut behind me, and I didn't bother glancing back.
I walked straight to the elevator, the weight of every stare crawling behind me like moths to a flame. The staff didn't even pretend not to look this time.
The receptionist tried to plaster on a smile. "Good afternoon, Ms. Whitmore."
I stepped into the elevator without acknowledging her....I was getting tired of the name Whitmore.
The doors slid shut like velvet, cutting the whispers in half.
As the floors ticked upward, I stared at my reflection in the mirrored walls.
Same face. Same eyes. Same smile.
But not the same woman.
When the doors opened, the air changed.
My office.
The top floor.
The one with the Devereaux crest embossed on the wall in gold.
The one our father built brick by brick and left to me.
The one Camilla never dared to step foot in not because I told her not to, but because she knew she could never fill this space.
The staff up here stood straighter when they saw me.
A pin-drop silence.
I walked in like I had never left.
The assistant by the glass wall practically swallowed her tongue when she saw me. "M-Ms. Whitmore.."
"Coffee," I said simply, without looking at her. "Black."
I walked past her, heels soft but lethal against the marble.
The doors to my office opened automatically when I approached.
The scent hit me first wood polish, paper, leather.
No flowers. No perfume. No trace of Camilla.
I let the door close behind me, stood there a moment, just breathing it in.
The office was untouched. Like a shrine.
The massive glass wall overlooking the entire city.
The sprawling mahogany desk.
The old leather chair behind it the one our father used to sit on like a king.
My chair.
I walked slowly toward it, running my fingers along the edge of the desk, dragging my hand across the smooth surface.
It felt like coming home.
I sat down, leaning back, and for the first time since I returned…
I smiled without pretending.
The assistant knocked, hesitant.
I didn't tell her to come in.
She opened the door anyway, stepping carefully, eyes wide.
"Your coffee, ma'am."
I took it from her, nodding once.
"Send in the finance department. I want quarterly reports on my desk in the next twenty minutes. And tell the legal team to bring me every contract signed in the last eighteen months."
Her throat bobbed. "Y-Yes, ma'am."
She fled.
Twenty minutes later, my desk was drowning in papers.
Numbers. Deals. Contracts.
I flipped through them with the same care a surgeon used with a scalpel.
The finance team shuffled in nervously, one by one.
I smiled politely at each of them.
"So," I began, voice sweet as syrup, "tell me about the offshore holdings."
They stuttered, coughed, explained.
I let them talk.
The files didn't show anything outright.
Camilla wasn't stupid. Neither was Liam.
But there were traces.
Small, delicate things.
A shifted percentage here.
A vote diverted there.
My name replaced quietly on paperwork I never signed.
All within legal parameters.
All buried under layers of corporate language and well-behaved signatures.
Clever rats.
I asked about the charity funds next.
The new tech acquisition.
The foreign investors.
Every question seemed innocent.
Every smile I gave made their skin crawl.
One by one, they started sweating.
Not because I accused anyone.
Because I didn't.
Because I smiled the whole time.
By late afternoon, I had a neat stack of answers.
Nothing I could use to tear them down yet.
But enough to know they'd started carving pieces off my empire the moment I looked away.
They thought they were careful.
They forgot who taught them how to be ruthless.
I closed the last file and stood.
Walked to the window again.
The city blinked back at me like a thousand little chess pieces.
I tapped my nails lightly against the glass.
My empire wasn't falling.
It was waiting.
Waiting for me to burn it all down and rebuild it my way.
Behind me, the assistant lingered nervously by the door.
"Anything else, ma'am?"
I glanced over my shoulder, smiling lazily.
"No darling." I said, voice soft but sharp.