They thought they could corner me.
Sit me in a cold office, lined with men in suits who wore rules like armor.
Who thought they could lecture me like I hadn't been raised in boardrooms ten times more ruthless.
"Miss leClair ," one of them said—voice smooth, rehearsed. "There have been… allegations."
I tilted my head. "Allegations? Or envy?"
He blinked. "Excuse me?"
I smiled sweetly. "You're not worried about ethics. You're worried I used power you couldn't control."
Their eyes flicked toward the door.
Waiting for my father, maybe.
But he wasn't coming.
Because I didn't need him this time.
I stood. Slowly. Deliberately.
"My name opens doors you'll never even see. My last name clears laws, rewrites contracts, and sinks companies. So if you think this"—I gestured to the thin file on the table—"is going to scare me?"
I leaned forward.
"Then you've clearly never played chess with a king's daughter."
Another man cleared his throat. "Even so, Professor theo—"
"—is ten times the man anyone in this room will ever be."
My voice was low. Deadly calm.
"You don't get to bury someone honest just because you finally found a scandal worth talking about."
Silence.
Then:
"If you don't back off," I said, straightening my spine, "I will make this entire university wish it had burned down quietly."
And with that—
I walked out.
Because this time?
I wasn't the storm.
I was the one who called it.