Chapter 14: No More Shadows

The photograph still lay on the marble counter, a silent accusation. Caleb Myles. Dead. The sticky note, bold and taunting, stared up at her like a challenge.

"Clean up your mess, Zara. Or we will." — E.B."

Ethan Blackwell.

Zara stood in the center of Lucien's penthouse, her bare feet rooted to the floor. The storm had passed, but inside her, a new one had begun to rage.

Caleb was supposed to have answers. A key to unraveling what happened to her father. Instead, he'd been erased—just like the rest of her past.

"This was a warning," she said, voice low. "He wants me to know I'm being watched."

Lucien crossed the room, tension vibrating beneath his skin. "Not just watched. Hunted."

She met his gaze. "Then let him come."

Lucien stepped closer, cupping her chin in his hand. "We don't just wait for war to reach our doorstep. We burn their house first."

Zara pulled away, moving toward the window. The city blinked below—unbothered. Unaware.

"You said Caleb had connections to your sources," she said. "Can we trace who he spoke to before he died?"

Lucien nodded. "I already put someone on it. Discreet. If Caleb left breadcrumbs, we'll find them."

Zara nodded. Her mind was already spiraling through every possible next move. Every detail, every risk. She couldn't afford to be reactive anymore.

"I'm done hiding," she said. "Zara Winters dies today."

Lucien turned sharply. "You're sure?"

She looked over her shoulder. "I came back for justice. I thought I could stay in the shadows and chip away at the rot quietly. But Ethan just sent me a corpse. That's not business. That's personal."

He walked up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Once you shed the alias, there's no going back."

"I don't want to go back," she said. "I want to go through."

Lucien smiled darkly. "Then let's make your resurrection public."

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

He stepped away, already pulling out his phone. "There's a shareholder gala in three days. Press. Board members. The entire upper crust of this corrupted world."

Zara's breath caught. "You want me to show up as Zara Raine."

He glanced at her. "No. I want you to arrive as the storm they thought they buried."

She stared at him, stunned—and then nodded. "We'll need to control the narrative."

Lucien was already three steps ahead. "My PR head owes me. We'll leak just enough—an anonymous source from ValeCorp confirming your identity. 'Unconfirmed whispers of Zara Raine spotted inside ValeCorp.' The media will swarm the gala. Ethan won't be able to contain it."

Zara's eyes burned with purpose. "And when he sees me standing there alive and unbroken, it'll force his hand."

Lucien's voice was quiet. "He'll get desperate. Sloppy."

"Good," she said. "Let him."

He nodded, pleased. "We'll need to prepare. Security. Backup exits. You'll need a statement dress."

She arched a brow. "You want me to make a fashion statement during a declaration of war?"

Lucien's smirk turned wicked. "You're not just burning down a legacy. You're reclaiming it. Make them look. Make them remember."

Her lips curved into something cold and beautiful. "I know exactly what I'll wear."

Then her smile faded.

"Lucien," she said softly. "What if Caleb isn't the last body?"

He met her eyes. "He won't be."

There was no softness in the words. No comfort.

Just truth.

Zara didn't flinch. "Then we get to them first."

Lucien walked over to the bar, poured two glasses of scotch, and handed her one.

"To resurrection," he said.

Zara touched her glass to his. "To revenge."

They drank in silence.

But even as the liquor burned down her throat, she knew something else had shifted.

This wasn't just about Ethan anymore. Or Celeste. Or the empire that had crushed her family.

This was about the fire she was becoming. A reckoning they didn't see coming.

And this time, when the ashes fell—they'd spell her name.

Cliffhanger: Zara is done hiding. Her public return as Zara Raine is only days away, and Ethan Blackwell is about to face a ghost in stilettos. But every move forward means more danger—and more blood.