The world learned her name before sunrise.
Every major news outlet had the same breaking headline:
"Aria Beaumont-Draven Claims Heirship of Draven Corporation."
The broadcast screens that lined the city flashed her photo, a woman in black, hair slicked back, eyes that didn't flinch even as the world trembled. For the first time, people saw her not as a victim, not as a socialite widow, but as power reborn.
In her penthouse office, high above the skyline, Aria stood in silence watching the city burn with curiosity. Her reflection in the glass looked sharper now, colder. Elias stood nearby, scrolling through live reports.
"They're calling you the Iron Widow," he said, tone half amused, half worried. "It's trending everywhere."
Aria's lips barely moved. "Let them call me what they want. I've been called worse."
