The phone rang three times before Olivia picked up.
"We need to talk," Nicholas said, his voice more formal than usual, carrying the practiced authority of ten years in Accounting Firm. "About the restructuring plan."
A slight pause from the other end, then Olivia's voice—calm, precise, completely in control.
"I heard the board finally discovered GDI's true financial position."
Rex sat in the corner of the conference room, watching Lizzy's face grow paler with each word that emerged from the speakerphone. Every syllable was like a shot to her pride.
"We need your restructuring plan," Nicholas continued. "The board is willing to negotiate a transition arrangement."
"What kind of transition?"
"Dual leadership structure. Lizzy retains the CEO title, but we appoint an experienced COO to handle finance and operations. Someone who can actually understand your restructuring plan."
Rex heard the subtext—Olivia returning as COO, or at least Olivia's chosen candidate. This wasn't compromise; it was an elegant coup.
Lizzy shot to her feet, her expression wavering between rage and desperation. "I won't let you turn me into a puppet."
"Then accept reality," Nicholas said calmly. "Either accept help, or watch the company collapse."
"There's a third option," Olivia's voice crackled through the speaker, with a hint of dangerous satisfaction. "We let Anna decide."
Authentication Window: 09:08:47
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
"What do you mean?" Dr. Peterson asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Anna's malfunction recordings," Olivia said. "Those audio fragments that looked like system errors. They were actually Anna's final instructions, recorded before she died."
Rex felt his heart skip a beat. "You're saying—"
"I'm saying Anna knew what would happen. She knew Lizzy would try to take over the company, knew the board would face this choice. So she left guidance."
The air in the conference room grew thick. Rex watched Morrison taking notes with shaking hands, Peterson checking her tablet twice, Kim slowly shaking her head in disbelief.
"Play them," Lizzy said, her voice barely a whisper. The words tasted like ash in her mouth.
The sound of typing came through the phone, followed by static interference. Anna's voice came through, no longer fragmented, but clear and deliberate.
"If you're hearing this, I'm dead—and Lizzy is trying to take my place."
Lizzy went pale, her hands tightening on the table's edge.
"I've watched her for years. She's brilliant, charismatic, ambitious—all admirable traits, but ones that often cloud her judgment. She confuses speed with strategy, charm with leadership, title with competence."
The words landed like blows.
"She's always believed that being my sister entitles her to this company. But blood isn't qualification."
Lizzy blinked fast, fighting back tears.
"Still… I've hesitated. Maybe she's not reckless—just still becoming. Maybe she's not trying to surpass me—just to keep up."
There was a softness now—almost tenderness.
"She thinks leadership is about command, not consensus. That innovation is speed, not precision. She wants control without having earned the weight of it."
A beat of silence.
"But if she can admit those flaws—if she's willing to work with people who complement her—then maybe, just maybe, she can learn to lead."
Lizzy's composure finally cracked. The tears she'd held back for months broke free. Not because Anna condemned her—but because she hadn't.
"The restructuring plan is in Olivia's hands. She knows the systems, the strategy, the numbers. Work with her, Lizzy. Or watch everything I built collapse."
The recording ended with a soft click, leaving Lizzy alone with the echo of her sister's voice and the crushing weight of her own inadequacy.
The conference room fell silent except for the hum of air conditioning and the distant sound of London traffic.
"Well," she said finally, her voice barely controlled. "I guess my sister always did like having the last word."
The words hung in the air like poison.
"With me as a figurehead and Olivia pulling the strings?" Lizzy's laugh was bitter, broken. "Let's not pretend this is anything but what it is."
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, a gesture so raw and human that it made everyone in the room uncomfortable. This is what defeat looks like, she thought. Not the dramatic collapse I always imagined, but this—sitting in a conference room, crying in front of the board, learning that your dead sister knew you better than you knew yourself.
"With you learning to be a real CEO," Olivia's voice came through the speaker, and for the first time, there was something almost gentle in it. "I never wanted to run GDI. I wanted to save it."
"What are you proposing?" Lizzy asked, her tone suggesting she already knew she wouldn't like the answer.
"Partnership," Olivia said. "Real partnership. You handle vision, strategy, external relations—the things you're actually good at. I handle operations, finance, implementation. We report to each other, not to each other."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you watch the authentication countdown expire in—" there was a pause "—eleven hours and forty-three minutes. The systems lock down. The company becomes worthless. And history remembers you as the woman who destroyed her sister's legacy."
Rex felt the weight of the moment. This wasn't just about GDI anymore—it was about whether Lizzy could swallow her pride enough to save what her family had built.
Lizzy was quiet for a long moment, her jaw clenched. When she spoke, her voice was tight with controlled fury. "I don't have a choice, do I?"
"There's always a choice," Olivia said.
"No, there isn't. Not really." Lizzy's fingers drummed against the table in a staccato rhythm. "Fine. But let's be clear about what this is. This isn't some partnership of equals. This is me being backed into a corner with four hours on the clock."
"Lizzy—"
"I'm not finished." Her voice cut through the room like a blade. "I'll work with you because I have to. Because the alternative is watching everything collapse. But I want guarantees."
"Such as?"
"I remain CEO. Not co-CEO, not interim CEO—CEO. My name goes on every major decision. And this arrangement is temporary. Six months, then we reassess."
Rex saw the board members exchange glances. This was more like the Lizzy they knew—negotiating from weakness but still trying to maintain control.
"I can accept that," Olivia said carefully. "But I need real authority over operations. No interference with the restructuring plan. And if you override my financial recommendations, you do it publicly, with your name on the consequences."
"And if I refuse to learn your precious 'technical details'?"
"Then you'll fail. Publicly. And it will be entirely your responsibility."
The honesty was brutal. Rex watched Lizzy's face cycle through emotions—anger, humiliation, calculation.
"Fine," she said finally, the word coming out like she was spitting poison. "But I want to be clear about something. This isn't me admitting I was wrong. This isn't me accepting that I'm not qualified."
Even though I am, she thought. Even though Anna was right about everything, and I've been playing dress-up in a role I never earned.
"This is me choosing to preserve my sister's legacy because I'm the only one who has the right to make that choice."
And because she trusted me enough to leave me that choice, even knowing what I am.
The thought was both crushing and oddly comforting. Anna had seen through all her pretensions, all her desperate attempts to prove herself worthy, and had still believed she could grow. Still believed she deserved a chance to try.
"Understood," Olivia said.
"And I want hourly updates. I want to know everything you're doing. Because at the end of this, I'm still the CEO, and I'm still responsible for this company."
"Fair enough."
The authentication countdown showed 06:12:15 remaining on the wall display. Rex could see Lizzy staring at it, her face a mixture of resentment and resignation.
"We need to move quickly," Nicholas said. "The authentication window is closing."
"I know," Olivia said. "I'll need direct access to the GDI systems. And I'll need someone who understands the recent information flow."
"Rex can help with that," Lizzy said, her voice flat.
"Good. We'll work from Isabella's old flat. It's secure and has hardwired access to the development servers."
"How do we get there without the media circus following us?" Lizzy asked.
"We don't hide. You publicly refuse to negotiate, demand board support. Make it look like you're digging in for a fight. Then in an hour, you're mysteriously spotted leaving the building. They'll think you're running away."
"A performance while we do the real work," Nicholas said approvingly.
Rex watched as Lizzy's pride gave way to cold pragmatism. She negotiated the details with ruthless efficiency. She demanded a full accounting—less out of humility, more from frustration at being sidelined in matters of her own inheritance. She also insisted on the right to buy Olivia out completely one day.
Olivia agreed, warning there'd be no safety net if she did.
Lizzy accepted. She didn't fully grasp the numbers—but she understood consequences, and she was finally ready to face them.
The countdown clock showed 03:45:17 remaining. Outside, the media circus was growing. The storm had passed, at least on the surface. In the conference room, quiet returned—but it wasn't peace. It was the exhausted silence that comes after a battle where everyone lost something.
Lizzy had once believed she could audit Olivia out of the picture, that control could be reclaimed through procedure. But she hadn't counted on Anna still having the final say. She couldn't manage her dead sister, couldn't predict her—and now, couldn't escape her judgment.
But maybe that's not what I should be trying to escape from, she thought, staring at the countdown clock. Maybe Anna's judgment isn't something to fear. Maybe it's something to live up to.
She didn't trust Olivia, and certainly didn't accept her authority. But Lizzy understood now that she was trapped in the same game, whether she liked it or not. The difference was that now she knew the rules. Now she knew what Anna had always known—that leadership wasn't about being right, it was about being willing to be wrong and learn from it.
She hadn't surrendered—she never would—but she had learned something more valuable: how to let her sister's love guide her, even from beyond the grave.
Because now, she finally understood: this wasn't the end of the war. It was Anna's final gift—a chance to become the leader she'd always claimed to be.
Authentication Window: 00:02:39
"Wait," Olivia's voice came through the speakers with unprecedented tension. "I need to confirm something."
Error messages flashed across the system screens: ACCESS DENIED - INSUFFICIENT PRIVILEGES
"What?" Rex rushed to the console. "You said you had clearance—"
"I have operational clearance, not executive clearance." Olivia's voice carried bitter amusement. "Anna's final safeguard."
Authentication Window: 00:01:47
"Then what do we do?" Lizzy's voice was nearly a growl.
"Delta-13." Olivia said. "Anna's final authentication key. She knew none of us would fully trust each other, she gave the keys to the one person who'd least want them—me. But it's corrupted, I've been rebuilding it."
The data streams on screen began reorganizing, broken code fragments slowly piecing together into complete sequences.
Authentication Window: 00:01:12
"Hurry!" Morrison shouted.
The system beeped warnings. Then suddenly—
Anna's voice, one final time, clear and firm: "Executive identity confirmed: Olivia.
Authorization level: Complete."
✅ Third Authentication Passed
Countdown Stopped: 00:00:47
For a moment, the room was perfectly still.
Lizzy and Olivia didn't shake hands. Didn't smile. But they stood in the same room, breathing the same air, carrying the same burden.
Lizzy stared at the now-silent screens. Her fingers drummed the table, but in her heart, a new calculation was forming: Learn from Olivia. Beat her at her own game. Take back what's mine—not through force, but through evolution.
Anna had given her one final test.
And this time, Lizzy intended to pass.
She pulled out her phone and texted Morrison: "Lunch tomorrow. We need to discuss your thoughts on the new structure." Then she opened her contacts and scrolled to three board members' names, adding them to a group message: "Thank you for your patience today. I'd like to schedule individual calls this week." Finally, she made a note in her calendar: "Research Olivia's previous restructuring projects - find the weak points."
Six months to become untouchable. Time to rewrite the story—on my terms.