Return of the Dead
The first time Rayna set foot in the city again, it felt like walking through the ruins of a memory.
Skyscrapers stabbed the sky like steel knives. Billboards flashed with the faces of people she no longer recognized. Horns screamed. Engines groaned. Life had gone on—loud, oblivious, unstoppable—without her.
She wore a long white trench coat and dark sunglasses, her hair pulled back into a sleek braid. The scar beneath her collarbone was hidden, but the fire in her chest was not. It burned brighter with every step.
Alon walked beside her, cool and calm in a navy-blue suit. No one gave them a second glance. They looked like a power couple—rich, distant, untouchable.
"Remember," Alon said as they neared the building, "you're not the broken girl anymore. You're Rayna Yran. The heir. The owner."
Rayna nodded once. "And it's time they remember who I am."
---
The Inheritance
Two hours earlier, they'd met with her late father's old lawyer—Mr. Salazar.
The man had aged. His hands trembled slightly as he poured tea, avoiding her gaze until she said his name.
"Mr. Salazar," she said, "you were the one who read my father's will, weren't you?"
He nodded. "I was."
"And you knew what Carmelita was doing."
He shifted. "I… suspected. But she had power of attorney until you turned twenty-one. I was warned to stay out of it."
"Warned?"
His lips pressed into a thin line. "There were threats."
Alon's jaw clenched beside her. "Threats that allowed a child to be enslaved in her own home?"
Mr. Salazar looked ashamed. "I made a mistake. But you're here now. And I've been waiting for this moment."
He reached into his drawer and pulled out a folder—yellowed and sealed.
"Your father left this for you. Not just the will. A letter. Instructions. The company, the estate, the accounts—they're all yours, now that you're of age."
Rayna took the folder with shaking hands.
Inside, along with legal papers, was a handwritten letter.
> "My Rayna,
If you're reading this, then my fears came true, and I failed to protect you in life.
But you are my legacy, my pride, my fire.
Everything I built, everything I saved—it was for you.
Never let them steal your light.
Rise, my daughter.
Rise."
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
She had cried in silence for too long. Now she let the world see.
---
Yran Global Headquarters
The glass tower that bore her father's name loomed over the city like a crown. Yran Global—white letters across black stone.
Rayna stepped through the revolving doors as if she'd never been gone.
The receptionist looked up, blinking at the unfamiliar woman. "Can I help you?"
Rayna slid her ID across the desk. "I'm here to see the board."
"Do you have an appointment?"
Alon leaned forward, his voice like velvet and thunder. "This is Rayna Yran. The owner of this building. Call the board."
The color drained from the receptionist's face. She picked up the phone with trembling fingers.
Ten minutes later, an emergency meeting was called.
---
The Boardroom Showdown
There were twelve men and women seated when Rayna entered the boardroom, all middle-aged and dressed in corporate armor. At the head sat Carmelita.
She looked up—and froze.
Rayna took off her sunglasses slowly.
Carmelita's face paled. "You…"
"You weren't expecting a ghost?" Rayna said, her voice steady. "But I'm not a ghost, Auntie. I'm the woman you tried to kill. And I'm back."
One of the directors stood. "This is outrageous. Who is this—"
Alon tossed a stack of documents onto the table. "That's her birth certificate. Her inheritance claim. And her father's original will, signed and notarized. Legally, she's the owner of Yran Global."
The room fell silent.
Rayna walked to the head of the table. Her chair. Her father's chair.
"I am Rayna Yran," she said. "And as of today, I am reclaiming my father's company. Every decision you've made in my absence will be audited. Every cent you stole, every lie you signed—I will uncover it all."
Carmelita finally stood, her voice shrill. "You can't do this! I've run this company for years!"
"You ran it into the ground," Rayna said. "You treated me like dirt, stole my name, wore my clothes, lived in my house—now I'm taking it all back."
A beat of silence.
Carmelita's eyes narrowed. "You think you've won?"
Rayna leaned in. "I haven't even started."
---
A Visit to the Past
Later that evening, Rayna stood outside the gates of her childhood home. The mansion loomed behind wrought iron bars—unchanged, but no longer hers.
Carmelita had sold it two years ago.
She walked through the gates with the help of an injunction Alon's lawyers had secured—giving her temporary access until full ownership transferred.
Inside, the rooms were cold. Dusty. Abandoned.
She wandered into her old bedroom—now bare, the wallpaper peeling, the floorboards creaking.
A memory hit her.
She was sixteen, kneeling on the floor, scrubbing stains while Dakila laughed behind her. She remembered her fingers bleeding. Her stomach empty. Her heart numb.
She walked to the closet and pulled up the old wooden plank.
Her diary was still there.
Wrapped in plastic. Dusty. Intact.
She opened it and read her own words:
> "One day I'll leave. One day I'll be more than they ever expected. One day I'll make them pay."
She closed the book, eyes blazing.
That day had come.
---
Brian's Shadow
Back at the villa that night, Rayna couldn't sleep.
The company was hers now—at least on paper. But the war was only beginning. Carmelita wouldn't go quietly. And her cousins? They'd be watching her every move.
She sat in the garden, arms wrapped around herself, when Alon joined her.
"Can't sleep?" he asked gently.
She shook her head.
He sat beside her. "You did something incredible today."
"I feel… nothing," she admitted. "I thought I'd feel powerful. Triumphant. But I just feel… empty."
"Revenge is a slow fire," he said. "It burns bright, but it takes time to warm you."
She glanced at him. "You always have these poetic answers."
"I had to learn how to breathe again after I lost Elaine."
Rayna was silent for a moment. "Do you ever think about falling in love again?"
Alon didn't look at her. "Every time I see you."
Her breath caught.
She opened her mouth—but didn't speak.
Not yet.
---
A Familiar Voice
Three days later, she stepped out of the Yran Global building and froze.
Across the street, leaning against a tree, stood Brian.
Older. Broader. His face hardened by time—but his eyes, those eyes, still made her heart ache.
He looked at her like he'd seen a ghost.
She didn't move. Couldn't breathe.
He walked toward her slowly. "Rayna?"
Her name fell from his lips like a prayer.
She nodded, barely able to speak. "Brian…"
He reached for her hand, gripping it like he might lose her again. "I thought you were dead."
"I was," she whispered. "But I came back."