The Ruthless Heiress (2)

Knowledge is everything.

This was Victoria Ringstone's mantra, the driving force behind her every thought and action. With knowledge came money, and with money came power, authority, and influence.

Eventually, everything else would fall into her lap.

It was this firm conviction that gave her the strength and resilience to grow into the formidable woman she is today.

As the echoes of the evening's gala faded down the corridors of the mansion, the chatter of the guests still hung faintly in the air, like a distant hum barely noticed anymore. Victoria found herself walking down the dimly lit hallway, her pace slow and deliberate. The heels of her shoes barely made a sound against the polished marble floors, but every step she took came with purpose.

Her mind, however, was a whirlpool of thoughts, swirling with memories and fragments of unfinished plans. A tension lingered between her temples, a dull, persistent throbbing that urged her to pause for a moment, mid-stride. She stopped under one of the smaller chandeliers that hung from the ceiling and looked up at it, her dark eyes fluttering briefly as if seeking relief from the thoughts plaguing her mind.

The chandelier's light was dimmer than usual, casting faint, shadowed flickers on the floor. The light danced faintly across her face, illuminating her sharp features and high cheekbones. Her reflection in the faint glass cast an ethereal glow, but Victoria was not feeling the grandeur the mansion often brought her.

She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath, steadying herself. There was a pressure at the back of her mind, an unsettling sensation she couldn't quite shake off, though she tried.

An unpleasant memory?

She wasn't sure, but she did what she had always done when such things tried to bubble to the surface. She shook her head as if physically pushing the thoughts away, forcing them into the recesses of her mind where they belonged.

No, this was not the time to dwell on the past.

She resumed her slow march down the hallway, bypassing the antique sconces, each meticulously carved and placed with care, as if they were guarding secrets of their own. The marble statues she passed, their cold eyes staring eternally ahead, reminded her of the legacy she bore—the cold, impenetrable image she needed to maintain at all times. Even the ceramic pots holding exotic plants felt like watchful sentinels, keeping silent witness to her every movement.

The party was over, and it had been, by all accounts, a success. Victoria could already predict the headlines for tomorrow. The takeover of Meyers Inc. would be lauded as a brilliant corporate maneuver. Guests would speak of the night with reverence, praising the elegance of the event, the sumptuous food, and the luxurious setting. More importantly, the corporate bigwigs she had carefully nudged tonight were already set in motion. Meetings would be arranged, alliances subtly forged, and she would continue to climb the ladder of power, one strategic move after another.

But for now, Victoria was light-headed, the weight of the evening beginning to settle on her. The wine had been excellent, and the thrill of her success had kept her moving, but now she needed to retreat, to rest. She deserved it. Perhaps it was the champagne or the tension she had been holding in check all night, but she felt a strange sensation creeping over her.

Her room awaited her, just ahead.

The door to her suite was made of rich mahogany, its surface intricately carved with floral patterns and delicate scrollwork, a door as ornate as the woman who would pass through it. At the center of the door, a brass nameplate gleamed under the soft light, engraved with her name: Victoria's Suite.

With another shake of her head, trying to rid herself of the sudden heaviness she felt, Victoria reached for the crystal doorknob, its gold base cool and smooth against her fingers. The knob turned easily, and she stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

The suite was spacious, as grand as any other part of the mansion. The high ceiling above seemed to stretch endlessly, making the room feel like a sanctuary, a private haven where she could finally be alone with her thoughts. The large windows framed the moonlit gardens outside, where each tree and shrub had been meticulously groomed to perfection. But Victoria had no interest in admiring the view tonight.

Without a second glance at the landscape beyond, she crossed the room, her gaze fixed on the wardrobe by the vanity. Arranged before her were rows of high-end cosmetics, perfumes, and delicate jewelry, each item neatly placed, as though awaiting her command. The faint scent of her perfumes lingered in the air—notes of vanilla, jasmine, and sandalwood, blending into something that was uniquely hers.

She stared into the large mirror above the vanity, catching her reflection in the soft light. The face that looked back at her was familiar—yet tonight, something felt different. Her dark hair, which had been carefully styled earlier, now cascaded loosely over her shoulders. Her pitch-black eyes, usually filled with a sharp, calculating glint, now seemed dimmer, clouded with exhaustion. The high cheekbones, once a source of pride, seemed too sharp, too defined.

For a brief moment, she frowned, the usual self-assured confidence wavering. She could feel the weight of the evening pressing down on her. The urge to slump into the seat next to the vanity was nearly overwhelming, and she barely resisted.

Was it the food?

Perhaps something didn't sit well with her. No, this was more than just physical discomfort. It wasn't stress, though the evening had been filled with enough maneuvering to exhaust anyone. This was something different, something deeper.

Victoria sighed softly and allowed herself to finally sit at the vanity. The plush seat beneath her felt like a welcome reprieve, a place to gather her thoughts and calm her restless mind. She closed her eyes for a moment, the world around her slipping away as she let the silence wash over her.

Tomorrow, the real work would begin. The Meyers takeover was hers, but there was much to be done to solidify her position. Every step of the way would require precision, foresight, and cunning. There were always those who would try to undermine her, to steal what she had rightfully taken. But not this time.

Opening her eyes, Victoria allowed herself a rare moment of satisfaction.

Who would have thought?

When she was younger, no one had believed she would come this far. Not her parents, not her siblings, and certainly not her former mentor.

Her family—the powerful Ringstones, industrial magnates controlling a vast empire of businesses—had always been steeped in ruthless ambition. Her father, a shrewd businessman, had taught her the importance of seizing power and wielding it without hesitation. Her mother, the ever-brilliant strategist, had instilled in her the importance of always thinking several moves ahead.

She had learned early that manipulation was an essential tool. As a child, she had honed her skills by playing her siblings against one another, competing for their parents' attention. Her father had encouraged this, seeing it as a sign of strength, and over the years, Victoria had perfected her ability to get what she wanted through cunning and guile.

Her siblings had once been her competition, but they had learned to fear her. And they had good reason. The family game, designed to test which child would eventually inherit the business empire, had been the first true battlefield Victoria had ever faced. Blackmail, manipulation, intimidation—nothing had been off-limits in her pursuit of victory. She had won, of course, and her father had praised her for it.

That victory had been the foundation of everything she had built since. Her father's approval, her siblings' grudging respect, and the position she now held as the successor to the entire Ringstone empire—all of it had been earned through her ruthless determination.

But even in victory, there were moments of reflection, moments where she wished things had gone differently. One such moment always came to mind when she thought of him—her mentor.

He had been a close friend of her father, a man she had once trusted, a man who had guided her through some of the most challenging moments of her early career. But he, too, had betrayed her. Jealous of her success, bitter over his own failures, he had tried to destroy her. She had learned a painful lesson from him: Trust is a luxury.

Her eyes flickered to the mirror again. For all her success, for all her victories, there was one constant truth in her life—Knowledge is everything. Without it, she would have been swallowed whole by the dangers of the business world. It had been her greatest weapon, her greatest shield, and it was the reason she had survived where so many others had failed.

Victoria sighed and rose from the seat, her head still slightly heavy. She looked down at her hands.

Why were they… red?

The sight was unnerving—dark red liquid, splashed across her fingers, staining her hands like blood. Her heart skipped a beat as she brought her fingers closer to her face, realizing what it was.

Wine?

No. It wasn't wine. This was different—thicker, more pungent.

Suddenly, she felt a tightness in her chest, a slow-burning sensation that spread through her veins. Her body felt heavy, her limbs unresponsive. Panic gripped her, but her mouth wouldn't move. Her legs buckled, and the room around her started to blur, colors fading into darkness.

What was happening to her?

Her mind raced, trying to piece together what had happened.

The gala, the food, the wine… Poison. It had to be. But who…? Why?

As her vision faded and her breathing grew shallower, the answer came to her, a bitter realization that settled like a weight in her chest. Meyers Inc. They had ties to dangerous people, people even her father had hesitated to cross. And now… now they had struck back.

Victoria's last thought, as the world slipped away, was of her own words, her own mantra that had carried her this far: Knowledge is everything.

If only she had known.

If only.