In the sitting room, Mrs. Amara Brown—the widow of the late Mr. Brown—sat gracefully on a velvet armchair, her phone pressed to her ear. Her expression was calm, but her voice carried a sharp edge.
"Mrs. Brown," came the voice of an unknown caller, hushed and wary. "I saw Miss Lila at the company today. From the look of things, it seems she's preparing to take over."
"What?" Amara's tone cracked with disbelief. "How is that possible? Lila never showed the slightest interest in the family business. Why would she suddenly want to take over? Are you certain of what you're saying?"
"Yes, ma'am. And… there's something else. She's been moving about as though she's searching for something. I can't say what, but it doesn't feel right."
Amara's lips tightened. "Hmm. Very well. Thank you for the information. Keep an eye on her." She ended the call with a decisive tap.
POV: Amara
Why now, of all times? Why would Lila step into the company when she has always scorned it? This could ruin everything—my carefully laid plans. I need to see for myself. No… better yet, I need to call Mark.
She dialed quickly. The line clicked, and a familiar voice answered.
"Good day, ma'am," Mark greeted respectfully, bowing even though she could not see it.
"Hello, Mark." Amara's voice softened into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Tell me, is it true?"
A pause. "What is, ma'am?"
"Is Lila taking over the company?" she pressed.
"You didn't know about it?" Mark sounded genuinely surprised.
"Of course I did," she replied smoothly, masking her unease. "It just seems so sudden. She never told me she would be coming today." Amara laughed lightly, feigning delight, though her heart simmered with suspicion.
"Well, I saw her myself," Mark admitted. "She carried herself with authority. People noticed."
Authority. The word echoed in Amara's mind like a curse.
She rose from her chair and drifted toward the window. Outside, the garden glowed in the last light of day, roses nodding in the breeze. To anyone else, it would have seemed serene. But to Amara, the roses were daggers wrapped in velvet. Beautiful, but dangerous.
"Keep watching her, Mark," she said softly, her reflection in the glass revealing the cold steel in her eyes. "Tell me everything she does. Every step, every word. Do not fail me."
"Yes, ma'am."
When the line went dead, Amara lingered at the window, her fingers tightening around the phone.
Lila's return was no accident. There was something she wanted—something hidden within the company, perhaps even within the legacy of Mr. Brown himself. Amara's instincts whispered that her own secrets were at risk.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment, then opened them again, sharper than before. If Lila wants war, then war she shall have.
The clock ticked on, steady and merciless, as though counting down to the inevitable Collins
...
The glass doors of Brown & Co. Holdings swung open with a hush, their polished surface reflecting the young woman who stepped inside. Miss Lila Brown—heir by blood, stranger by choice.
Employees glanced up from their desks, their eyes following her with unspoken questions. Some whispered, some stiffened, and others simply watched in silence. It had been years since she had set foot here. Many had assumed she would never return.
Yet here she was.
Lila's heels clicked against the marble floor, steady and deliberate. She wore no expression that could be read too easily—her face was calm, but her gaze… her gaze lingered on everything. The framed photographs of her father shaking hands with foreign investors. The long corridors that seemed darker than she remembered. The company seal, etched in bronze on the lobby wall.
Every step she took was not just movement—it was calculation. Searching.
"Good morning, Miss Brown," one of the junior managers greeted nervously, rising from his chair. His voice betrayed the unease of everyone watching.
Lila gave him the briefest nod, her lips curving into a polite but distant smile. She did not stop walking. She had no time for greetings or pleasantries.
Her mind replayed the memory that had brought her back here: her father's last words to her, spoken in a tone so faint she almost doubted she had heard them at all. Words about something hidden, something that must never fall into the wrong hands.
For years, she had tried to bury them, to pretend she had no stake in his empire, no interest in the cold world of business. But the unease in her chest had grown until it demanded action. And now, standing in the very halls he once commanded, she felt the truth pressing closer.
She reached the executive wing. The air here was different—quieter, heavier, almost as though it carried secrets in its silence. She slowed her pace, her hand brushing lightly against the wooden panels of the wall, searching, remembering.
"Miss Brown."
The voice startled her slightly. She turned to find Mr. Mark, her father's trusted assistant standing before her. His expression was polite, but there was something cautious in his eyes.
"I didn't know you would be visiting today," he said with a respectful bow.
"Neither did anyone else," Lila replied smoothly. "It wasn't exactly a scheduled visit."
Mark studied her, as though weighing her intentions. "People are saying you've come to… take over. Everyone are talking about you.
Lila let out a faint laugh, though it carried no humor. "People say too much."
But inside, her thoughts tightened. Take over? No. Not yet. I came here for answers. For what Father left behind.
Her gaze flicked past Mark, to the door of her father's old office. She remembered standing outside that door as a child, listening to the low rumble of voices inside, voices that decided the fates of men and fortunes. Now, the door stood closed, silent, waiting.
And she intended to open it.