Chapter 5: Shifting Tides

The next few days after dinner were a blur for Henry. The initial shock of his return to Starling City had worn off, but the undercurrent of tension that flowed between him, Walter, and the rest of the family was palpable. Moira, though she hadn't voiced it, was clearly caught in the middle. She tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy, but the reality of having Walter in her life, now more than ever, was not something she could easily ignore.

It wasn't just the dinner table that had shifted—the entire Queen family dynamic had tilted. Henry was aware of the subtle ways in which Moira's gaze lingered on him when he spoke. She wasn't against him, but the weight of her marriage to Walter and the years they'd spent apart made her torn. Her heart and her loyalty were divided, but Henry understood her struggle. He'd seen it before. This wasn't the first time he'd been forced to navigate between two sides of his family.

Walter, however, was a different matter altogether. He wasn't as emotional as Moira, but he wasn't ignorant, either. He had been a businessman long before he became a part of the Queen family. The moment Henry had laid claim to Queen Consolidated, Walter had known the fight for power was on. Though he had never shown it outwardly, he was wary. The position he had taken on in their absence—CEO of Queen Consolidated—was fragile. The foundation beneath him was cracked, and Henry was the one holding the hammer.

Henry didn't need to rush. He knew the game. Patience was key. But as the days went on, his strategy began to take shape. He would carefully dismantle Walter's influence, move behind the scenes, and position himself as the rightful leader of Queen Consolidated, all while keeping his personal relationship with the family intact. He wasn't just playing the corporate game—he was playing the long game.

The office of Queen Consolidated had become Henry's battleground. From the moment he stepped into his late father's office, he could feel the ghosts of past decisions. His father, Robert Queen, had built this empire with sweat, blood, and vision. Henry intended to finish what his father had started—not by tearing down what had already been built, but by enhancing it, making it his own.

He sat behind the large desk, the weight of the responsibility settling in. His fingers lightly drummed against the surface as his mind worked, formulating the next move. Walter had made sure everything ran smoothly in his absence, but Henry wasn't interested in smooth. He wanted progress. He wanted control.

Oliver had been his ally in this—though he wasn't yet fully aware of the machinations Henry was setting in motion. The brothers had talked, but there was still some distance between them. Oliver's experiences on the island had changed him, and Henry knew that time would heal those wounds. For now, Oliver was content to let Henry take charge. But Henry knew the day would come when Oliver would need to understand the full extent of what was happening.

As he flipped through a set of documents—quarterly reports, stock evaluations, potential acquisitions—his mind buzzed with possibilities. He wasn't interested in simply running the company; he wanted to redefine it. He could see the opportunities, the gaps, the places where Walter's influence had been more about filling space than creating real value.

A knock at the door broke his concentration. Without looking up, he spoke. "Enter."

Moira stepped inside, her presence both familiar and unsettling. She closed the door behind her with a quiet click, standing for a moment in the doorway, unsure of how to begin.

"Henry…" she started, her voice tentative. "I've been thinking about everything. About you taking back control of the company."

Henry's gaze lifted, meeting her eyes. She was still caught in the middle, her loyalty to Walter pulling her in one direction, and her understanding of her son's rightful place pulling her in another.

"You don't need to say anything, Moira," Henry said, his voice calm but firm. "I know where your loyalties lie."

Moira sighed, her face softening. "It's not that simple, Henry. You're my son, and I want you to have everything that's rightfully yours. But Walter…" She hesitated, clearly struggling. "Walter is my husband. He's been here for me when no one else was. And he's done his best to keep things running while you were gone."

"I'm not here to replace him, Moira," Henry said, standing up from behind the desk. "I'm here to reclaim what's mine. This isn't just about the company. It's about our legacy. The Queen legacy."

She met his gaze, her expression full of understanding. She knew this was not just about business—it was about family. But she couldn't ignore the years she had spent with Walter. The delicate balance was becoming harder to maintain, and she knew it.

"I just want what's best for all of us," she whispered.

Henry nodded slowly. "Then let's do what's best. I'll handle Walter. You don't need to worry about that."

She gave him a small, uncertain smile. "You always know what to do, don't you?"

He smirked. "I don't always know, but I always figure it out."

As Moira left the room, Henry's thoughts drifted back to Walter. He knew the man was wary. Walter had spent too much time securing his position to let it go without a fight, and Henry wasn't naïve. Walter wouldn't sit idly by while his power was slowly eroded. But Henry also knew how to deal with men like Walter—men who were more concerned with their position than the legacy they claimed to be protecting.

Later that evening, Henry made his way to the penthouse where he knew Walter would be. He'd already spent hours strategizing, and now it was time for the next step.

Walter was sitting at the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand, his gaze thoughtful but distant. He didn't look up when Henry entered, but Henry wasn't bothered. He knew Walter knew he was coming. There were no secrets between them now—just a silent understanding that something had shifted.

"You're making your move," Walter said without preamble, his voice calm but laced with the knowledge of what was happening.

"I don't need to make a move, Walter," Henry replied smoothly, taking a seat beside him at the bar. "I'm already here. I'm not asking for permission."

Walter met his eyes then, his gaze unreadable. "I know you're the rightful heir. I don't question that. But you should know—I'm not giving up without a fight."

Henry's lips curled into a smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. "I don't expect you to. But when the time comes, I'll be ready."

The tension between them hung thick, but neither man flinched. Walter had been playing the game, but Henry had always been better at it. And now, it was time to take control—slowly, methodically, but with an undeniable certainty.

As Henry stood to leave, he glanced over his shoulder. "Just one thing, Walter," he said, his voice low and controlled. "You can't stop what's coming."

And with that, Henry walked out, leaving Walter to reflect on the inevitable. He knew the game was over—the only question was how much Walter would fight before surrendering.