Marcus Delaney hadn't slept.
He paced the marble floors of his penthouse, phone in one hand, a tumbler of untouched scotch in the other. The leak was supposed to destabilize Anita's position. Instead, it had backfired—gone silent. No fallout. No chaos.
Just... silence.
And that silence was the loudest warning.
"She's choking off my influence," he said aloud to the man on the phone—one of the last senior board members still sympathetic to his name. "I need access to the voting schedule. To the financials. Anything."
"I can try," the man said. "But if anyone smells blood on me—"
"Then don't bleed."
Marcus ended the call, fury tightening his jaw.
He had played this game before. Ruthless. Strategic.
But Anita… she wasn't just playing. She was rewriting the rules.
Across the city, Anita met quietly with Arjun Patel, the acting head of GNV's Innovation Division. A former skeptic. Now, a willing partner.
"Two of your leads still funnel updates to Marcus," she said, sliding a file across the table. "Quietly replace them. Promote people who aren't looking for shadows to follow."
Arjun skimmed the contents. "What do you get in return?"
She smiled. "A future that doesn't implode."
He nodded. "Done."
That afternoon, two internal memos went out:
One announcing the departure of "redundant consultants" aligned with Marcus.
The other introducing a "strategic oversight initiative" for all executive decision-making—reporting directly to Anita.
She didn't trumpet it publicly.
She didn't need to.
Those who needed to know, saw the message clearly:
The queen is not just defending the castle. She's expanding it.
Meanwhile, Marcus received a call from a burner number.
A woman's voice: clipped, urgent. "We've lost access to Innovation. Patel's gone neutral."
His jaw clenched.
"Then find me someone who isn't."
He ended the call and looked out the window—at the very building he once ruled.
He had underestimated Anita George once.
He wouldn't do it again.
But the more he reached, the more the walls seemed to close in.
Anita, reviewing her strategic map of personnel, paused only once that night.
A faint flicker of memory.
Marcus, standing beside her years ago, smiling, planning—back when she believed.
Now?
Now he was just another opponent.
And she was no longer the woman who trusted easily.
She was reborn.
And still rising.