Chapter 20 - The Immortal Empress of Vanguard
The heavy,
oppressive silence in the executive office was broken only by the pathetic,
rhythmic sounds of Lucas Sterling’s broken,
uncontrollable weeping.
He sat crumpled on the expensive leather sofa,
his bespoke,
custom-tailored suit wrinkled and ruined by his own sweat and tears,
looking exactly like the terrified,
abandoned twelve-year-old boy I had left crying in the freezing rain six years ago.
He had come into my tower expecting to be the glorious,
triumphant conqueror,
armed with aggressive financial algorithms and a deep,
burning hatred,
believing he could easily tear down the massive,
impenetrable empire I had built with my own blood and iron.
Instead,
he had found himself trapped in a psychological,
inescapable slaughterhouse,
his illusions shattered,
his massive,
borrowed fortune entirely erased,
his parental heroes revealed to be nothing more than disgusting,
cowardly parasites who had deserved every ounce of the misery I had inflicted upon them.
Ethan walked over to the heavy wooden doors of the office,
pressing a small,
discreet button on the secure intercom panel embedded in the wall.
"Send up the federal marshals," Ethan instructed quietly,
his voice devoid of any emotion,
completely indifferent to the weeping,
ruined boy on the couch.
"The suspect is secured in the chairperson's office,
and we have the signed,
irrefutable evidence of his massive,
international wire fraud and illegal,
unregulated market manipulation ready for immediate seizure."
Lucas looked up,
his face red,
puffy,
and streaked with bitter,
salty tears,
his dark eyes wide with a sudden,
overwhelming panic as the reality of his immediate,
terrifying future finally registered in his shattered mind.
"No,
please," he begged,
his voice a weak,
hoarse whisper,
holding his shaking hands out toward me in a pathetic,
desperate plea for a mercy he had never intended to show me.
"You took my trust fund,
you took my company,
you took everything,
please don't send me to prison,
I have absolutely nothing left in this world!"
I walked slowly back around my massive,
mahogany desk,
ignoring his pathetic,
begging cries,
and sat down in my high-backed leather chair,
smoothing the front of my elegant,
impeccable dress.
"You made a critical,
fatal error in your calculations,
Lucas," I said softly,
looking at him with the cold,
clinical detachment of a scientist observing a dying,
insignificant insect under a microscope.
"You believed that revenge was a fiery,
passionate emotion,
a wild,
uncontrollable storm that you could use to burn down my walls with sheer,
blinding anger."
I picked up my delicate,
gold-rimmed teacup,
taking a slow,
calm sip of the cooling,
bitter liquid,
enjoying the absolute,
unquestionable taste of total,
final victory.
"But true,
perfect revenge is not hot,
it is completely,
absolutely cold," I explained smoothly,
watching the heavy oak doors swing open as three massive,
heavily armed federal marshals marched aggressively into my pristine office.
"It requires infinite,
unbending patience,
absolute,
terrifying emotional control,
and the willingness to let your enemies dig their own,
inescapable graves before you finally,
quietly push them in."
The marshals grabbed Lucas roughly by the arms,
hauling his limp,
weeping body off the leather sofa,
pulling his wrists forcefully behind his back,
and clamping heavy,
cold steel handcuffs onto him with a loud,
satisfying click.
He did not fight them,
he did not scream,
he simply let his head hang in absolute,
crushing defeat as they dragged him across the plush Persian rug,
marching him toward the bank of private elevators,
banishing him to the same dark,
concrete hell that had consumed his corrupt,
miserable parents.
Ethan closed the heavy doors behind them,
locking the world out,
securing our massive,
unshakeable fortress once again.
He walked over to my desk,
picking up the scattered,
useless hostile takeover documents,
and casually tossed them into the brass trash can,
erasing the very last,
insignificant threat to our global dominance.
"The financial markets will open in exactly one hour,
Mother," Ethan announced,
a proud,
brilliant smile lighting up his handsome face as he looked at the massive digital stock ticker on the wall.
"With Lucas's shadow fund completely absorbed into our holdings,
Vanguard Pinnacle's stock is projected to surge by at least thirty percent before the closing bell."
I stood up,
walking over to the towering,
floor-to-ceiling windows,
looking out over the sprawling,
vibrant city as the dark,
heavy rain clouds finally began to break,
allowing thick,
golden rays of morning sunlight to pierce the gloom.
Nineteen years ago,
I was nothing more than a quiet,
unassuming wife,
betrayed by a foolish,
arrogant husband,
surrounded by enemies who thought my silence was a pathetic,
weak symptom of blind ignorance.
But I had taken their lies,
their stolen money,
and their disgusting,
arrogant cruelty,
and I had forged it all into an unbreakable,
immortal empire of glass,
steel,
and absolute,
terrifying power.
I placed my hand against the cold glass of the window,
feeling the hum of the city far below,
knowing that every single building,
every single street,
and every single life in this concrete kingdom was now officially,
and permanently,
May you like
operating under the unbreakable,
eternal shadow of the Queen.
