Byron Corporation was in chaos.
Whispers filled the hallways, voices dropping the moment footsteps approached. Everyone had an opinion, a theory, a quiet bet on how this would unfold and, more importantly, how badly it would shake the company.
The Byron Corporation auditorium was silent in the way only money and power could command.
Cameras lined the walls. Shareholders filled the first rows. Executives sat stiff-backed, faces carefully neutral. Outside, the press waited like wolves.
Ruby stepped out of the elevator with measured calm. Fred moved first, sharp eyes, broad shoulders, clearing the path. Two personal bodyguards flanked her, discreet but unmistakable. Not aggressive. Protective. Intentional.
She didn't rush. She didn't hesitate. She walked like the building already belonged to her.
Across town, Samuel stood beside Max, arms crossed, jaw tight. A tablet in his hand showed the live feed from three angles. "She looks calm," Samuel said.
"She is always calm," Max replied, eyes never leaving the screen. Samuel glanced at him. "That smear campaign could've crushed someone else." Max's mouth curved faintly. "They underestimated her."
Ruby reached the podium. No notes. No glass of water. Just her in a white suit looking like the queen she was, spine straight her eyes clear. The moderator announced her name.
"Mrs. Maximillian Byron, CEO of Byron Corporation." The murmurs stopped. Ruby leaned forward slightly, hands resting on the podium, not gripping it.
"Good morning," she said, her voice steady, warm. "I won't be addressing rumors today as you had expected."
There was a long pause. The room leaned in. "Because Byron Corporation does not run on gossip. It runs on innovation, accountability, and service." Samuel exhaled slowly. "Smart."
Ruby continued. "Over the past forty-eight hours, you've seen headlines questioning my role here. What you have not seen is what matters, that is, our work."
The screen behind her lit up. A product prototype rotated in clean, elegant animation.
"This," Ruby said, "is the Byron Grid, our new smart energy distribution system designed for underserved communities."
The room shifted. Board members exchanged looks.
"It reduces energy waste by forty percent," Ruby continued, "cuts household costs, and most importantly keeps power stable in rural and low-income areas." Samuel straightened. "She's not defending herself."
"No," Max said quietly. "She's redefining the conversation." Ruby's tone sharpened, not angry, just precise.
"We are reallocating resources away from speculative spending and into public-facing infrastructure. We are restructuring supplier contracts. We are investing in people, not optics."
A beat. "And for those concerned about my qualifications," she added, eyes lifting to the camera, "results will answer you better than I ever could."
Silence. Then, applause. Not polite. Not forced. Real.
Max leaned back, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face. "That's my baby girl." Samuel turned sharply. "You don't talk like this is an arrangement." Max didn't answer.
But he didn't hide it either. The look on his face, pride, admiration, something dangerously close to tenderness, said everything.
Samuel studied him for a long second. "…You're in love with her." Max's jaw tightened, not in denial. In acceptance. Before Samuel could say more, Max spoke, eyes still on Ruby as the applause swelled.
"I think my ex-wife is alive." Samuel froze. "What?"
"Yes," Max said calmly. "And I think she's the mastermind behind what's coming next." Samuel stared at him, shock rippling across his face. "Violet is dead, you buried her."
"So did everyone else," Max replied. "That's what makes her dangerous." On-screen, Ruby concluded her address.
"Byron Corporation moves forward," she said. "With or without approval. Thank you."
The cameras cut. The room erupted, she took no questions and walked away, her security behind her. Max straightened, all softness gone, the strategist back in place.
"Dig into it slowly," he instructed Samuel. "No alerts. No ripples." Samuel nodded, still reeling. "If she's alive…"
"She is working with her son and Seron's father," Max said quietly. "She'll come for Ruby." He watched the screen as Ruby stepped away from the podium, unshaken, victorious. "And that," he added, voice cold with promise, "will be her biggest mistake."
The boardroom doors slammed shut behind them. Mia Byron was still vibrating with fury, her heels striking the marble floor like gunshots. Screens behind them replayed Ruby's address on loop, applause, headlines shifting tone, analysts praising "decisive leadership."
Malvin laughed. Not loud. Not kind but just enough.
"Well," he said casually, straightening his cufflinks, "looks like for the first time in history, Mia Byron finally lost." The room went still. Mia turned slowly. Her smile was sharp. Dangerous. "Lost?" she repeated softly.
Malvin shrugged. "The smear didn't stick. The girl didn't cry. The stock stabilized. If anything…"
He tilted his head. "...she made you look desperate." The slap came fast. Not physical. Worse.
"You should shut up," Mia said, voice ice-cold, "before you forget your place." Malvin scoffed. "My place? Funny. I thought after all these years of cleaning up your messes…"
She laughed, cutting him off. "Cleaning up?" Her eyes swept him from head to toe. "You married into this family with empty pockets and empty ambition." The room inhaled.
Mia stepped closer, lowering her voice so it cut deeper. "You are poor, Malvin. Poor in blood. Poor in legacy. And judging by what I have seen," her lips curled, "poor in performance too."
Malvin's face drained. "That's below the belt," he muttered, fists clenching.
"Oh, please," Mia snapped. "If you could perform anywhere near adequately, maybe I wouldn't need power to feel satisfied."
That did it. Malvin's pride cracked, loud, ugly, irreversible. "Careful, Mia," he warned. "You're running out of people willing to bleed for you." She leaned in, eyes blazing. "You'll bleed anyway. That's what men like you are good for."
He stared at her, wounded silence screaming louder than words.
—
Ruby barely made it three steps out of the auditorium before the air was ripped from her lungs. A hand, familiar and brutal, clamped around her wrist.
The grip was bone-deep.
Behind her, she heard the muffled shouts of her bodyguards. They were a wall of muscle at the auditorium doors, successfully holding back the tide of ravenous reporters, but they were ten feet too far away.
"Let go of me," Ruby gasped, her voice thin but sharp.
Seron didn't answer. He didn't even look at her. He moved with a manic energy, dragging her toward the private executive elevator. His rage was a physical thing, radiating off him in waves that made the fine hairs on Ruby's arms stand up.
"Seron!" she snapped, her designer heels skidding and scraping against the polished marble floor. "You are overstepping. You do not touch me."
It was too late. He shoved her inside the lift. As she spun around to face him, the doors hissed shut, sealing them in a gold-plated tomb.
Then, the world jolted.
With a violent, mechanical groan, Seron slammed his fist into the emergency red handle. The elevator lurched, throwing Ruby against the mirrored wall, before it shuddered to a dead halt. The lights flickered, buzzing like dying insects, before settling into a dim, sickly emergency glow.
Silence rushed in heavy, thick, and suffocating.
Ruby's breath hitched. She adjusted her blazer, her fingers trembling only slightly. "What did you do?"
Seron stood by the control panel, his chest heaving as if he'd just run a marathon. The smell of his expensive cologne, once a scent she loved, now felt like a chokehold. "I pulled the brake."
"You're insane," she whispered, her eyes narrowing.
"Maybe," he shot back, stepping into her personal space. The dim light caught the desperation in his eyes. "But at least now, you can't run. You're going to listen to me, Ruby, you are still mine."
"I am nothing of yours," she hissed.
Outside the steel doors, the world was muffled. Acacia's frantic voice pierced through the gap. "Seron? What's happening?" She began pounding on the metal, the sound echoing like a hollow drum. "This isn't funny! Seron!"
Ruby's lead guard, Fred, was already a shadow against the door. His voice was a low, lethal rumble on his radio. "Elevator B is compromised. The CEO is trapped with Mr. Seron. We need maintenance and emergency extraction. Now."
Acacia spun on him, her face contorted. "This is your fault! You let her provoke him! If he loses his temper, it's on your head! couldn't you have prevented this?"
Fred didn't blink. He didn't even look at her. "Send backup," he commanded into the mic, his eyes fixed on the closed doors.