The room was silent, save for the click of the remote as the video replayed for the third time. Julian King, smug and camera-ready, standing beside Elena Thorne, declaring himself Cambria's replacement.
Cambria stood in the center of the room, arms crossed, face unreadable. But her eyes burned.
"He looks just like him," she muttered.
"Your father?" Maddox asked quietly.
Cambria nodded. "Same jaw. Same entitled smirk." She turned away from the screen. "She's not just replacing me. She's rewriting my legacy."
"She's betting the world forgets you," Elara added. "That with the right optics, right scandal, you'll fade. Julian is clean. New. And just 'close enough' to inherit your father's influence."
Maddox stepped forward. "Then we hit her where it hurts most."
Cambria looked at him. "Not her. Julian."
That afternoon, Cambria and Elara made their move.
The press still buzzed from Elena's announcement. Every major outlet was begging for Cambria's response. Her silence was only feeding speculation. Betrayal. Breakdown. Disgrace.
Perfect.
Elara leaned over the table in their temporary war room. "We have one advantage."
She pressed play on an audio file.
Julian's voice, cocky and careless:
"I don't care about the company. I just want the payout. Elena promised I'd be the face she can be the hands. Let the girl burn."
Cambria smirked. "How poetic."
They uploaded the file anonymously to two underground news blogs. From there, it spread like wildfire.
By nightfall, #ThorneConspiracy was trending. And Julian King was no longer the clean heir he was a puppet with a price tag.
Maddox, meanwhile, arranged a meeting. One-on-one. Julian had agreed, too confident in his new role, to suspect a trap.
They met in the penthouse bar of The Axiom Hotel.
Julian arrived in a tailored navy suit, all bravado and arrogance. "So, the ex-fiancé wants to talk," he drawled. "Cute."
Maddox didn't smile. "Let's get one thing straight. You might be Cambria's blood, but you're not her equal. You're a placeholder. A tool."
Julian's smile tightened. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Thorne."
"This isn't jealousy," Maddox said. "It's a warning. Walk away before you drown in a war you don't understand."
Julian leaned in. "Elena promised me more than you ever gave her. Power. Protection. Legacy. All you gave her was heartbreak."
Maddox's fist clenched.
Julian stood. "You're yesterday's king. I'm tomorrow's empire."
But as he turned to leave, Maddox's voice stopped him cold.
"I know about the bribes. The payments. Offshore accounts in your name." He rose, slow and deliberate. "The media may have doubts. But the Feds? They're already watching."
Julian's bravado faltered for just a moment.
Then he left.
But the damage was done.
That night, Cambria stood on stage at a surprise press event unannounced, uninvited, but unstoppable.
"Let me make this clear," she said, standing under the bright lights in a crisp ivory suit. "I am not going quietly. I will not be replaced. And I will not be rewritten."
The room fell into a hush.
"Elena Thorne has spent her life controlling men and silencing women. That ends now. I have evidence. I have names. And I have nothing left to lose."
She held up a flash drive.
"On this are recordings, financial trails, and internal documents proof of how Elena manipulated media, bribed officials, and blackmailed her own partners."
Flashes exploded. Reporters yelled.
And Cambria smiled.
"I don't want her legacy. I want the world to see what she really is."
But just as she stepped off stage, a man rushed to her side. One of Elara's security team.
"Ma'am… you need to come with me."
She followed him to a waiting car. Inside was a tablet.
A livestream.
Elena Thorne.
Tied to a chair.
Bruised. Bleeding.
And behind her Julian.
"Hello, sister," he said to the camera. "Looks like you underestimated me."
Then he lifted the gun.
And the screen went black.
Cambria screamed.
And the war wasn't over.
It had just been reborn.