Elena's POV
The headlines hit by morning.
> "Roth Ousted in Shocking Boardroom Coup."
"Elena Marlowe Reclaims Her Father's Empire."
"Anonymous Audio Leak Exposes Billionaire Power Play."
I stood in my kitchen, fingers wrapped around a mug I wasn't drinking from. The news played in the background. Roth's face. Then mine. Then Amira's.
It was surreal—watching the fallout in real time.
Julian stepped in quietly behind me, hair still damp from the shower, sleeves rolled up.
"They're calling it poetic," he said.
I didn't answer.
Because it didn't feel poetic. It felt raw.
Earned.
Anna's name didn't appear in the reports. Neither did Julian's. Just mine.
Elena Marlowe returns.
They made it sound clean.
It wasn't.
My eyes drifted to the window, to the city that once spat me out and now seemed to be holding its breath.
"What now?" I asked.
Julian leaned against the counter, watching me like I was still something fragile.
