A month had passed since Annalise had taken over her father's company.
Carlos hadn't made a single move. Not a public one. Not a whispered threat. Nothing.
That silence was more terrifying than war drums.
She felt it in her bones — he was planning something.
But tonight wasn't about him.
Tonight was hers.
The night her city would see the crown passed.
A custom black gown hugged her frame like second skin — tailored elegance and silent power. Her hair was pinned up in soft waves, and diamond earrings shimmered against her skin like starlight.
She was staring at her reflection in the gilded mirror when Delphine entered the room.
"You look beautiful, Annalise," her grandmother said with a proud smile.
"Thank you, Grandma," she replied softly.
"You look nervous."
"A little."
Delphine tilted her chin upward gently. "You were born for this. Don't let ghosts from the past make you tremble in the spotlight."
Annalise nodded, inhaled deeply, and followed her down the stairs.
The car ride to the venue was silent except for the soft hum of the city. Cameras were already flashing when they pulled up to the grand marble hall.
The banquet was a sea of silk gowns and sharp suits. The air was laced with champagne and whispers.
But when Annalise stepped through the doors — the room shifted.
Heads turned. Voices lowered. And just like that, she was no longer invisible.
Later, after speeches and polite conversation, Delphine took the stage with a glass of champagne in hand.
"At the end of this year," she said, "I will retire from the Leamington board — and I do so with peace, because I leave this legacy in capable hands."
She turned, extending her hand toward Annalise.
"My granddaughter, Annalise Leamington — the sole heir of this empire."
Applause thundered through the room like a rising tide.
Annalise stepped forward. Cameras flashed like lightning. Somewhere in the crowd, someone called her name. She smiled. She bowed her head.
And somewhere else in that crowd... a man slipped through the back exit, unnoticed.
Carlos.
Later That Night – Clyde's Estate
Clyde had just returned from a weekend trip — a stack of documents in one hand, tie loosened, eyes tired. But as he stepped up the porch steps, he stopped.
Rezi was there.
Sitting on the swing in a wine-red dress, hair pinned up like she'd just walked off a movie set. A single candle flickered on the table beside her.
"You're back," she said softly.
Clyde blinked. "You waited?"
"I figured you'd show. Eventually."
He let out a short breath. "You look... different."
She smiled. "I feel different."
Clyde dropped the folder on a side table and walked over. He sat beside her, letting the silence fill the space between them.
"I missed this," Rezi whispered.
Clyde glanced at her, then away. "Me too."
Elsewhere – Unknown Location
Carlos Leamington sipped whiskey as he looked down at the glossy photo in his hand. Evelyn Grace. Young. In the wrong place. Blood on her shoes.
The folder was thick with more — sealed files, recordings, transcripts. The kind of thing that could break a legacy.
He tapped the chessboard on his desk.
The white queen fell with a soft click.
Then he smiled.
"Let's see how well the heiress plays when her mother's ghost takes the stage."