chapter 11

The offices were quieter now.

Since Richard's resignation, a hush had settled over the building. Not relief—something tighter, like anticipation. Like a breath being held.

Emilia sat in the glass-walled strategy room with only one other person—Ayla Menken, the firm's head of cyber operations and one of the few people Emilia still trusted.

The room buzzed with the hum of encrypted systems, screens casting blue light across their faces.

"We finished the secondary audit," Ayla said, pushing a drive across the table. "And found something. Buried deep. Someone accessed internal board member files three weeks before the breach. Including yours."

Emilia frowned. "Richard?"

Ayla shook her head. "No. That's the part that's going to bother you."

She tapped a few keys, pulling up a still image—time-stamped access logs.

The user ID was familiar.

Charles Stone.

Her brother.

Emilia's heart dropped.

"That's impossible," she whispered. "He's not involved in operations anymore. He's barely even—"

"But his clearance was never fully revoked," Ayla said softly. "And the system never flagged it. We never checked because... no one thought we had to."

Emilia stared at the screen.

Her brother, who had all but disappeared after their father's death, had quietly accessed sensitive data in the lead-up to the scandal. Files about board members. Internal hierarchies. Leadership vulnerabilities.

The kind of information someone like Clara could use to fracture trust.

"But why?" Emilia said aloud.

Ayla hesitated. "You know your family better than I do. But if I had to guess... Charles didn't leave because he had no interest in the company. He left because your father didn't trust him with power."

Emilia's pulse thudded in her ears.

"He never wanted to be CEO," she murmured. "He said the pressure would destroy him."

"Or maybe," Ayla said, "he wanted to be CEO more than anyone—and hated that it was you."

---

That night, Emilia couldn't sleep.

She stood by the tall windows in her penthouse, watching the lights ripple across the river, her mind racing. The betrayal felt different this time. Colder. Not ambition or corporate sabotage.

Family.

And it hurt more than she'd ever admit.

She reached for her phone more than once.

Sebastian's name glowed on the screen.

She never dialed.

Because what could she say?

My brother might be the one trying to burn me down?

-----

The estate in Montclaire hadn't changed much since their father's funeral.

Same towering gates. Same gravel driveway lined with silent cypress trees. Same cold air that never quite left the rooms, no matter how warm the lighting.

Emilia hadn't been back in months.

Charles was already in the library when she arrived. Whiskey in hand, lounging like he owned the world. Or was at least done pretending he didn't want to.

"Sister," he drawled, not looking up. "To what do I owe the surprise?"

She didn't sit.

"You accessed my files."

His expression didn't change. "Straight to business. You've grown so... sharp."

"I'm not here for nostalgia," Emilia said. "Only answers."

Charles took a slow sip. "And you think I owe you those?"

"You owe me the truth," she snapped. "Did you help Clara? Did you sabotage the company?"

At that, he laughed. Low. Bitter. "You really think I'm that stupid? Clara was sloppy and greedy. I have no interest in being caught in her mess."

"Then why go digging through board records?"

He finally looked at her, eyes cool. "Because I wanted to know how long it would take you to crumble."

The words hung in the air like smoke.

"You were never meant to run Stone International," he said, standing now, setting his glass aside. "You were our father's backup plan. A last-minute pivot."

"I earned my place," Emilia said, voice shaking with restraint.

"No," Charles replied, stepping closer. "You inherited it. Like I should have. But I didn't play the game well enough. You? You played it too well."

Emilia's jaw clenched. "So this is about bruised pride?"

"This is about legacy," he hissed. "You paraded yourself across the media, declared yourself queen, and thought no one would challenge you. But power has a way of attracting knives."

She took a step back—not out of fear, but because the room suddenly felt too small to breathe.

"You could have come to me," she said, voice low. "We could have rebuilt together."

"I didn't want to rebuild," Charles snapped. "I wanted to see if you'd survive alone."

Silence.

It was colder than betrayal.

It was abandonment, reborn.

---

As Emilia walked out of the estate, past the shadows of childhood memories, her phone buzzed in her coat pocket.

She didn't check it until she reached the car.

Sebastian: Still here.

Just two words.

But they steadied her hand as she slid into the back seat.

Because she knew—Charles may have let her fall.

But not everyone would.