SOLUTION

CHAPTER 2

"Because power belongs to those who are willing to do whatever it takes."

Kate's hand shot across the desk, swiping everything onto the floor. Papers scattered like dead leaves. Her father's favorite pen—the one he'd used to sign every major contract—clattered against the hardwood.

"Get out!" she screamed, her voice raw.

Mr. Carlos didn't flinch. He stood there, perfectly still, watching her with the cold calculation of a predator. "Throwing a tantrum won't change reality."

"I said GET OUT!" Kate grabbed a crystal paperweight, her knuckles white around it.

"Put that down." His voice dropped to something dangerous.

"Or what?" Kate's chest heaved. "You'll hit me again? Go ahead. Show everyone what you really are."

A muscle twitched in his jaw. For the first time, she saw a crack in his composure.

"I'm trying to save you," he hissed, stepping around the desk. "You think those vultures on the board care about you? They're already circling. Already making calls. Give them one week—one week—and they'll have you declared incompetent."

"Because you're telling them to!" Kate threw the paperweight. It smashed against the wall beside his head, exploding into glittering shards.

Mr. Carlos' hand shot out, gripping her wrist with brutal force. "Listen to me very carefully. William Dray arrives in two weeks. You will smile. You will be charming. And you will accept his proposal."

Kate twisted violently, trying to break free. "I'd rather lose everything!"

"Then you're a fool." He shoved her backward. She stumbled against the desk, catching herself. "Your parents didn't die so you could throw away their legacy on pride."

The words were a match to gasoline.

"Don't you DARE talk about them!" Kate lunged forward, shoving him with both hands. "You didn't even cry at their funeral! You stood there like a statue, already counting their money!"

He caught her wrists, holding her at arm's length as she struggled. "I'm doing what needs to be done. What your father should have done years ago—"

"My father would never have sold me like livestock!"

"Your father was weak!" Mr. Carlos roared, and suddenly the mask was completely gone. His face contorted with years of buried resentment. "He had every opportunity to make this company great, and he wasted it on sentimentality. On family dinners and birthday parties and treating employees like friends instead of resources!"

Kate went still, staring at him.

"There it is," she whispered. "You hated him. You hated them both."

Mr. Carlos released her wrists, straightening his jacket. When he spoke again, his voice was back to that terrible calm. "I loved my brother. But love doesn't build empires."

"Then what does?"

"Sacrifice." He walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. "William Dray will be here on the 15th. I suggest you prepare yourself."

"And if I refuse?"

He turned, and the smile he gave her was all teeth. "Then I'll show the board the psychiatric evaluation I've already had prepared. Severe depression. Delusions of persecution. Inability to make rational decisions due to traumatic grief." He pulled a folder from his jacket pocket, tossing it onto the desk. "All signed by Dr. Morrison. Very reputable man."

Kate's hands shook as she picked up the folder. Inside were pages of medical letterhead, diagnosis codes, recommendations for immediate psychiatric intervention.

"This... this is fraud. This is illegal—"

"Prove it." Mr. Carlos opened the door. "Dr. Morrison is a close family friend. He's concerned about you. We all are."

"You bastard."

"Two weeks, Kate. Think very carefully about your choices."

The door closed with a soft click.

---

Kate stood alone in her father's study, surrounded by broken glass and scattered papers. Her reflection stared back from the darkened window—hollow-eyed, pale, a stranger.

She sank into her father's chair, the leather still molded to his shape. The familiar scent of his cologne wrapped around her like a ghost.

*"One day, you'll take over, and I know you'll do great things."*

Her father's voice echoed in her memory. But he'd been wrong about so many things. Wrong about his brother. Wrong about family being everything.

Wrong about her being ready for this.

A knock startled her from her thoughts.

"Miss Kate?" Aunt Mariam's voice was soft through the door. "You need to eat something."

Kate wiped her eyes. "I'm not hungry."

"You haven't eaten in two days."

"I said I'm not—"

The door opened anyway. Aunt Mariam walked in carrying a tray, her eyes taking in the destruction—the shattered paperweight, the scattered documents, the bruise already forming on Kate's wrist.

"Oh, child." She set down the tray and pulled Kate into her arms.

And finally, Kate broke.

She sobbed into the older woman's shoulder, her whole body shaking with grief and rage and fear. Everything she'd been holding back since the phone call crashed over her in waves.

"They're gone," she gasped. "They're really gone, and I don't know what to do."

Aunt Mariam stroked her hair. "I know, baby. I know."

"Uncle Carlos... he wants me to marry some man I've never met. He says if I don't, he'll take everything."

The cook pulled back, her weathered face hardening. "That man has always been poison. Your father knew it too."

Kate looked up. "What?"

"Your parents didn't trust him. Especially not recently." Aunt Mariam glanced at the door, lowering her voice. "Your father changed his will three weeks before the accident. Made sure everything went directly to you, with specific instructions that Carlos couldn't touch a penny."

"Three weeks before..." Kate's mind raced. "Why? Did something happen?"

"I don't know. But I heard them arguing in this very room. Your father told him—" She paused, as if weighing whether to continue.

"Tell me."

"He said, 'I know what you're planning, and it won't work. This company will never be yours.'"

---

*Four days earlier*

After her discussion with her uncle, Kate sat frozen on the floor, the phone still lying beside her. The words of the police officer kept repeating in her head.

"There were no survivors."

Her parents were dead.

The world around her blurred. She could hear the cook calling her name, shaking her shoulders, but her mind refused to process anything. A sharp pain squeezed her chest as reality hit her.

No more hugs from her father. No more late-night talks with her mother. No more laughter at the dinner table.