Chapter Two: Loyalty and Cleansing

The first light of dawn fought its way through the heavy curtains, casting thin, sharp beams across the room. Elara Vance was already awake.

She didn't get up right away. Lying motionless beneath the silk sheets, she sifted through the memories of the girl whose body she now inhabited—memories she had begun integrating the moment she woke up. Every detail mattered. Every fragment of memory was ammunition.

She needed allies. In a fortress like the Vance family estate—and within the vast corporate empire of Vance Industries—one couldn't survive alone.

And from everything she now knew, there was only one person truly worthy of her trust:

Mrs. Gable.

Not just a housekeeper. Not just a servant. Mrs. Gable had been family. She had raised the original Elara like her own, served the Vance household since the days of Elara's father, and stayed loyal even after the family patriarch's death. She was the one who had silently cared for Elara during her coma, ensuring proper treatment and keeping watch over every movement made by Damien and Celeste.

Elara had seen it in her inherited memories—how Mrs. Gable had wiped her body with a warm cloth in the dead of night, gently adjusted her breathing tubes, and whispered worriedly by her bedside. There was a warmth in those silent acts that Elara had never known in her past life. Genuine. Pure. Unquestionable.

Mrs. Gable was not just loyal. She was irreplaceable.

Sunlight streamed into the room as Elara stood, pulling the curtains open with a sharp tug. She slipped into a set of clean, elegant loungewear. No need for pearls or heels today—but appearance still mattered. Power wore many masks.

From her wardrobe, she chose a tailored silk blouse and high-waisted slacks. Simple. Clean. Dominant without shouting.

Descending the staircase, she found Mrs. Gable in the living room, softly directing the staff as breakfast was prepared.

The older woman turned—and froze.

"Elara…?" she whispered, eyes wide with disbelief. The tray in her hands trembled before she quickly set it down and rushed forward.

"Elara, you're awake! Thank God—thank the heavens!"

Her voice cracked with emotion. But as she reached to touch Elara, she paused—remembering Celeste's cold rejection from the day before.

Elara stepped forward and took both of Mrs. Gable's wrinkled hands into her own.

That one gesture undid the woman completely.

Tears spilled from Mrs. Gable's eyes, raw and unstoppable.

"You've worked hard, Mrs. Gable. Thank you," Elara said, her voice steady but tender. There was no fragility in her tone—only quiet strength.

Mrs. Gable shook her head repeatedly, still crying. "It was nothing, Miss. Nothing. Just seeing you awake—alive—that's all I ever prayed for. Thank God you can finally see that snake and that witch for what they truly are."

Elara's smile darkened slightly.

"It's not too late," she replied calmly.

Mrs. Gable had tried to warn the old Elara. Many times. But that foolish girl had been too lost in love, too blinded by sweet lies. She had argued, even snapped at Mrs. Gable in defense of Damien.

That girl was gone.

From now on, Elara would see clearly. And those two—the backstabbing fiancé and the traitorous best friend?

Their time was up.

"I need your help with a few things," Elara said, her tone shifting from warm to sharp.

"Of course, Miss. Anything," Mrs. Gable said immediately, straightening her spine like a soldier receiving orders.

"First—fire Uncle Wang. That driver. I don't want him near the estate again. And the car Celeste arrived in yesterday—get rid of it. Sell it. Keep the money. I don't want it back."

Her voice was calm but laced with unmistakable disgust. Wang had been Damien's planted informant—reporting her every move under the guise of loyalty. And that car? Tainted. Just like the woman who rode in it.

Mrs. Gable looked stunned. In the past, the old Elara would never have dared issue such commands. Firing a long-time staffer? Selling a luxury car over a whim? Unthinkable.

But this Elara?

This Elara meant business.

"Yes, Miss. Consider it done. Thank you for your trust," Mrs. Gable replied firmly. She didn't need explanations—she could feel the change. The girl standing in front of her was no longer a delicate flower, but a storm on the rise.

They remained in the living room for a while.

Then came the sound of wheels dragging across wood.

At the top of the stairs, Clara appeared—dragging a suitcase, her lips pressed into a bitter line.

Elara didn't even flinch. She had instructed Mrs. Gable to remove the disloyal maid the moment she awoke. Clara, who had secretly aligned herself with Celeste, was a liability. And Elara didn't tolerate liabilities.

Clara reached the front door, turned, and scoffed with a look of pure resentment.

Elara didn't even blink.

Fool. She thought riding Celeste's coattails would make her powerful.

She didn't realize Celeste was a sinking ship.

Elara headed back to her room. Time was ticking. There were bigger battles ahead.

She picked up her phone.

The Vance Industries Board of Directors needed to meet—immediately.

The original Elara may have inherited her father's shares, but she had never held true power. Damien and his cronies ran the company from the shadows.

That ended today.

She dialed a number.

Arthur Sterling. Her father's old right-hand man. Loyal. Sharp. Dangerous when needed.

The call connected almost instantly.

"Elara?" Arthur's voice crackled with disbelief and relief. "My God… you're awake?"

"I am, Uncle Arthur," Elara said, her voice crisp. "I need your help."

"Of course—anything. I—Elara, thank God you're all right."

"Uncle Arthur, I need you to call an emergency board meeting. Today. 10 AM. At Vance Tower. Every director. Every executive. No exceptions."

There was a pause. Arthur hadn't expected this. The voice on the phone was familiar—but the force behind it?

New. Commanding. Unrelenting.

"Elara… today? Isn't that a bit fast? What about Damien—"

"I want Damien there. That's the point."

She didn't raise her voice—but it hit like a hammer. Her tone brooked no argument.

Arthur was silent for a long moment. Then he exhaled slowly.

"I understand. I'll make the arrangements now. Do you need a car?"

"No need. My new driver's already on the way. I'll be there before ten. Thank you, Uncle Arthur. For everything."

Arthur's voice cracked just a little.

"Your father would be proud of you," he said quietly. "This family… this company… we've waited a long time for you to come home."

Elara hung up.

She sat on the edge of the sofa, eyes glittering like ice under a spotlight.

Damien Blackwood.

CEO?

Not for long.

By the time the clock struck ten, he would know exactly who he was dealing with.

Outside, a long black Lincoln pulled up to the estate gates. The new drivers stood crisply in uniform, opening the door with silent precision.

Elara stepped in without a word.

The car slid smoothly onto the road, heading toward the glittering skyline of Cosmopoint, the sprawling metropolis where fortunes rose and fell overnight.

Elara sat still, watching the world speed by.

This city was dressed in glass and steel—but beneath it lay rot. Greed. Betrayal.

Perfect.

She would reclaim her birthright here. Not as the weak socialite everyone once pitied—but as the Vance family's true heir.

And a silent storm, biding her time for vengeance.

She pulled out her phone again. Scanning through the original Elara's assets—stocks, property, liquid cash, art collections. Enough to fund a hostile takeover.

And that was before she tapped into her own hidden resources.

She still remembered her personal vault at The Gilded Vault, hidden in the financial district. Inside: the only trace she'd left behind from her former life. And the key to proving what kind of woman she truly was.

She closed her eyes for a moment.

Damien. Celeste.

They thought she would never wake.

They thought they had won.

How wrong they were.

Elara Vance was back. Stronger. Smarter. Colder.

And the housecleaning… started now.