Chapter Eight: Kneel Before The Queen

The conference room buzzed with low murmurs. Top shareholders filled every seat, cameras pointed toward the sleek stage, and tension sat thick in the air. Amira Bennett stood tall at the head of the room, dressed in an all-black suit that made her aura ten times colder than usual. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes—her eyes were already at war.

The heavy glass doors opened, and Ethan sauntered in like a prince who thought he still had a crown. He wore a tailored navy suit and that irritating smile that used to charm reporters. He took slow, confident steps toward the table, scanning the room like a ruler returning to his throne.

"Amira," he greeted casually, hands in his pockets. "You called for an emergency meeting. Let me guess. You're finally ready to admit you can't handle this empire alone?"

She didn't respond. Not yet.

Before Ethan could take a seat, the doors pushed open again. Daphne Chen entered in a sharp red blazer, designer shades resting on her head, lips painted like she was walking into a press interview—not her own downfall.

Several shareholders leaned back, watching her carefully. Daphne gave a smug nod, tossing her hair over one shoulder as she walked to her seat.

"I hope we can handle this like adults," Daphne said, her voice honey-sweet. "There's clearly been some misunderstanding."

Amira took one step forward, remote in hand. A large screen behind her came to life. The first video played. Daphne's voice filled the room.

"Move the funds from the Argentina account to Horizon Shell. Bennett won't notice."

Gasps rippled across the room. Daphne froze.

The next slide came up: signed documents—Daphne's authorization codes matching illegal transfers. Then came a clip of Ethan laughing in a backroom lounge, swirling whiskey.

"She thinks she's untouchable because she wears the Bennett name? Please. She's just a pretty face with money. I built that company for her. I'll tear it down when I'm done."

The room fell into silence.

Ethan's smile cracked.

"What is this?" he barked. "This is edited—"

"Every frame is authenticated," Amira cut in. Her voice was sharp. Cold. Controlled.

She looked at the board. "This empire does not belong to Ethan Carter. It does not belong to Daphne Chen. This is the Bennett Legacy. Built by my hands. My brain. My blood."

She pressed another button.

Daphne's access logs popped on screen, showing every file she sold, every signature she forged. The evidence was indisputable.

Daphne's face drained of color. "Wait, wait—Amira, this can't be public—"

"Security," Amira called calmly. "Please escort her out. And make sure the media gets a clear shot."

Two suited guards moved toward Daphne.

"You can't do this!" she screamed, trying to grab her bag. "I made one mistake! You need me!"

"You needed me too," Amira said. "But I didn't betray you."

Ethan shot to his feet. "You think this makes you powerful? You think humiliating us makes you a queen?"

"No," Amira said, picking up her badge and slamming it on the table. "The moment I took my name back, I became more than that."

Ethan stormed toward her, fists clenched. But Lucas stepped between them before Ethan could get too close.

"I built this company!" Ethan shouted.

"And I built you," she replied, voice like steel. "You were nothing before me, and after today, you'll be nothing again."

Ethan reached for a file, ready to argue—until he saw it.

The final document.

A contract revoking his stake in the company, signed by every shareholder in the room. He was out.

Utterly, legally erased.

One reporter snapped a photo just as security grabbed his arm. The caption would hit headlines in minutes.

Amira didn't flinch. She watched Ethan and Daphne dragged out like rats from a throne room.

She turned to the board. "Meeting adjourned."

The room stayed silent until she exited. Not a word. Not a breath.

Amira stepped into her private elevator, heart calm, steps steady. Her empire was back under her full control. But as her phone buzzed, a message popped up from an unknown number.

"Well played, Empress. Now the real war begins. — V."

She stared at it. Her past was coming back.

As the elevator doors closed, the message still glowed on her screen. Amira didn't blink. She knew this moment would come. She had been prepared since the day her name was dragged through the mud five years ago. But what she didn't expect was V to show up now, right after Ethan and Daphne had been exposed and removed like flies from her empire.

She tapped on the message, running a quick trace on the number. Blocked. Triple-encrypted. Whoever V was, they weren't just a bored enemy. This person was skilled—possibly more dangerous than anyone she had ever dealt with. But Amira wasn't intimidated. She smiled darkly as the elevator stopped at the penthouse floor.

Lucas was already waiting inside her private office, a file in hand.

"I found something," he said without looking up. "V is connected to The Bloodlight Foundation. Offshore accounts. Underground weapons research. They've been quietly buying shares of companies connected to Bennett Group's supply chain."

Amira's jaw tightened. So it wasn't just revenge. It was a hostile takeover—coordinated, global, and ruthless.

She took the file from Lucas and scanned through the pages. One name caught her attention: Kaiser Varros.

Her chest grew still. That name belonged to a ghost from her childhood.

"Dig deeper. I want a full background, every associate, every dirty contract. I want them exposed by tomorrow morning."

Lucas nodded. "What should we do about Ethan and Daphne? They're trending. Ethan's lawyers are already trying to twist the narrative."

"Let them try," she said, her voice like steel. "I'll destroy every version of their story before it hits the public. If they think they can crawl out of this, they haven't learned who I've become."

She walked to the floor-length window, overlooking the city. Her empire. Her warzone.

It was never about revenge. It was about legacy.

The phone buzzed again. This time, a photo popped up. A picture of her mother. But this wasn't from any family album. It was a recent photo—taken in a dark facility. Her mother was alive.

"I thought she was still in a coma…" Amira's voice trembled as the photo burned into her mind. "But she's awake… and someone's keeping her."

Her blood ran cold. All these years, she'd checked in on her mother's condition weekly. Every report claimed her mother was unresponsive. Stable. Silent.

But this photo changed everything. This wasn't a hospital room. This was a prison.

Someone had been manipulating the truth — and now, they wanted her to come alone.

They didn't just want to play games.

They wanted war.

"I'm leaving tonight," she told Lucas. "Get the jet ready. And tell the board: I may be gone for 24 hours, but I'll be back with something they won't forget."

Lucas hesitated. "Are you sure about going alone?"

She turned to him. Her eyes were fierce.

"I don't need backup. I am the backup."

She picked up her coat, grabbed the encrypted USB drive from the safe, and walked out of the office like a storm in heels.

This war had just begun.

And Amira Bennett never lost twice.