Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The applause still rang in her ears long after Sophie stepped off the stage.

She walked down the dim corridor of the Burnett media wing like a woman floating between worlds—one foot in the past she had just laid to rest, the other in a future she hadn’t yet dared to imagine. Her pulse was steady now, but a strange weight settled in her chest. Was this what rebirth felt like? A hollow kind of fire?

The double doors at the end of the hall opened without a knock. Alexander Beaumont stood there, leaned casually against the doorframe, sleeves rolled up, his tie loose.

“You made the internet cry,” he said, his voice low and laced with something like awe. “And clap. And go to war for you. That’s power.”

“I didn’t do it for them,” Sophie replied. “I did it for me.”

A beat passed. Then she walked past him, but he turned and followed her.

“You’re not done,” he said, falling into step beside her. “This was the first strike, not the last.”

Sophie paused. “I’m well aware.”

“Then let’s talk about the next one,” he said, tone suddenly sharp. “Because while the world is busy calling you brave, Ethan is calling someone to clean up the mess.”

She looked at him fully now, studying him. “You seem unusually invested in this.”

Alexander shrugged. “You’re not the only one he’s burned.”

That wasn’t the whole truth, but Sophie didn’t press him. Not yet.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A war room. That’s what it looked like.

The glass table was surrounded by analysts, legal aides, and two private investigators. Screens lined the walls, each displaying a different set of financial data, video footage, or active search protocols. A Burnett-level crisis called for Burnett-level tools.

Sophie and Alexander entered side by side.

“Let’s go over it again,” she said, walking to the head of the table.

The lead investigator, Yara, tapped a remote. Footage of the night Sophie was arrested began to play—this time, slowed and synchronized with surveillance records and timestamps.

“At 10:29 p.m.,” Yara narrated, “Mrs. Burnett checked into the Silver Crest Hotel. The lobby camera confirms this.”

The screen showed Sophie entering the hotel, emotionally drained, suitcase in hand. A time stamp glowed in the corner of the video: 10:29:38 PM.

“Meanwhile,” Yara continued, switching to another screen, “this financial transaction was executed at 10:45 p.m. from Ethan Crawford’s private network, using his administrative credentials.”

Sophie narrowed her eyes.

“That’s after I was in the hotel.”

“Exactly,” Yara said. “And this”—she tapped again—“is your door access log from the hotel. From 10:30 to 11:15 p.m., you were in your suite. No devices accessed. No outgoing signals. You were under surveillance the entire time.”

“So I physically couldn’t have executed the transaction,” Sophie said.

Yara nodded. “Correct. And even more important—your digital signature on the document doesn’t match your keystroke rhythm. Our biometric scan shows it was likely cloned or forged using mimicry software.”

“And who has access to that kind of software?” Alexander asked.

Yara didn’t miss a beat. “Ethan Crawford.”

Silence fell.

Sophie slowly sat down, her chest heavy. “He didn’t just ruin me. He planned it. Timed it. While I was still reeling from what I saw upstairs, he was already pulling the trigger.”

Alexander looked at her, voice low but firm. “And now we have proof.”

Later that evening, Sophie stood in the same marble-walled room where her father had once told her she was naive.

Now, she was leading the discussion.

“We go public with the forgery,” she said firmly. “On my terms. We release a statement, file formal charges, and push for a criminal investigation.”

Richard looked up from his tablet. “And turn this into a legal circus?”

“It already is,” she snapped. “I’m just taking back the microphone.”

Xander, seated near the window, folded his arms. “You think this is going to make you look stronger?”

“I don’t care how I look,” she said, voice rising. “I care about justice.”

“That’s rich,” he muttered. “Coming from someone who spent three years playing wife to a snake.”

Sophie froze.

Her mother gasped softly. Richard looked toward Xander, but said nothing.

Sophie straightened, her eyes cold. “I spent three years surviving, Xander. I swallowed my pride for love. But I will not swallow it again to appease men who think silence equals strength.”

The room went still.

Richard finally spoke. “Let her speak. She earned it.”

Sophie looked to her father. “I don’t need permission anymore. But thank you.”

And with that, she left the room—Alexander trailing just behind her, a faint grin tugging at his lips.

“You have teeth now,” he murmured.

“I always did,” she replied. “I just used to hide them.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ethan hadn’t slept.

The curtains in his penthouse were drawn tight against the morning light, but even darkness couldn’t cool the storm inside him. The last twenty-four hours had spun completely out of his control. The press had shredded him. Sophie was everywhere—headlines, podcasts, trending clips. Even people who hadn’t cared before were suddenly calling her a symbol of strength.

He poured another drink, the bitter sting of whiskey doing little to settle his nerves.

Belinda walked into the room in a silk robe, nursing a mug of coffee. “You look like you’ve been wrestling ghosts.”

“I should’ve finished her when I had the chance,” he muttered, pacing the floor.

“She’s not the woman you married anymore,” Belinda said flatly. “She’s dangerous now.”

Ethan scoffed. “She’s all bark.”

“She’s a Burnett,” she countered. “They don’t bark. They bite. And she has Alexander Beaumont sniffing around now too.”

That made Ethan pause.

“Beaumont’s a snake,” he said. “He’ll betray her the first chance he gets.”

“Maybe. Or maybe he’s the kind of snake that waits until you’re sleeping to strike,” Belinda murmured.

Ethan turned to her. “I need options. I need someone who can clean this up quietly—no more cameras, no more lawyers. Someone who can make this all... disappear.”

Belinda raised an eyebrow. “You mean him?”

Ethan didn’t respond. He didn’t have to.

She walked to the bar, refilled his drink, and handed it to him. “You know he doesn’t come cheap. And he doesn’t come without consequences.”

“I don’t care.”

Belinda studied him. “Then make the call.”

 One Hour Later – Anonymous Burner Phone

The line crackled. A voice answered, smooth and cold.

“Mr. Crawford. I was wondering when you’d remember who holds the real leash.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened. “I need your services.”

“I’m not surprised,” the man replied. “Your ex-wife is quite the phoenix.”

“This isn’t about her reputation,” Ethan said. “It’s about leverage. I need her silenced. Discredited. And if you can get me access to Alexander Beaumont’s digital profile, even better.”

There was a pause.

“That’ll cost you. Twice the usual.”

“I’ll pay.”

“And the Burnetts?”

“Untouchable. But not unbreakable,” Ethan replied. “If you find a crack, I want it widened.”

The voice on the other end chuckled. “Now you’re talking like your father.”

Ethan froze. “Don’t compare me to him.”

“Then don’t repeat his mistakes.”

The line went dead.

Somewhere in Brussels

The man known only as Kingmaker leaned back in his leather chair and exhaled a plume of cigar smoke. He was elegant, dangerous, and had the kind of face that could slip into a crowd and vanish in a heartbeat.

He tapped a few keys on his encrypted laptop. A cascade of Sophie Burnett’s digital footprint unfolded across the screen—press clips, bank records, travel history.

Then he opened a new file: Camellia Edet.

He smiled.

“Let’s see how loyal you really are, little assistant.”

Meanwhile – Camellia’s Apartment, That Night

Camellia had just gotten home from Sophie’s office. It had been a whirlwind of meetings and scheduling, and she was drained. Her loyalty to Sophie hadn’t wavered—but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t overwhelmed by how quickly everything had escalated.

Her phone rang.

Unknown Number.

She almost didn’t answer.

“Hello?”

A deep voice crackled through. “Camellia Edet?”

“Yes… who’s this?”

“I represent an interested party. One that’s willing to pay you very well.”

Her spine stiffened. “Pay me for what?”

“To do what you already do. Report. Record. Deliver information. About your friend.”

“I’m not for sale,” she snapped, heart pounding.

“Everyone’s for sale,” the voice said. “And if not you… perhaps your brother? Lovely school he goes to. Private, expensive. Shame if something were to happen to that scholarship.”

Camellia’s mouth went dry.

“Don’t call me again,” she whispered—and hung up.

But her hand trembled as she dropped the phone.

Burnett Estate – Next Morning

Sophie sat at the breakfast table, sipping black coffee as she reviewed the morning’s brief from the investigators.

Across the screen:

 Ethan Crawford under formal review for financial fraud.

Alexander entered without knocking. He carried a document folder in one hand and two coffees in the other.

“You were right,” he said, sliding the folder to her. “Swiss records. Dummy accounts. Offshore laundering. It’s all there—tied to him.”

Her eyes skimmed the documents. This was it. The kill shot.

“This goes to the DA today,” Sophie said. “And then… we build the fire.”

Alexander studied her face. “You’re not even breathing heavily.”

“I haven’t had time to breathe in years,” she said quietly.

They sat in silence for a moment.

Then Alexander added, “I’ve seen people take revenge. But I’ve never seen someone turn pain into purpose this fast.”

Sophie looked at him. “This isn’t about revenge anymore.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s about never being powerless again.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Camellia couldn’t sleep.

The anonymous call echoed in her mind like a curse. Everyone’s for sale, the voice had said. She had slammed her phone down that night and tried to forget it. But silence was louder than threats.

She tossed in her sheets, eyes burning from lack of rest.

Sophie had trusted her—offered her the job, the keycard to the estate, access to confidential meetings and even personal devices. She’d been Sophie’s shadow, assistant, sister, confidant.

But now someone knew her weakness.

Her brother.

His scholarship was a lifeline. Without it, he’d be back in the slums of Owerri, the same place Camellia had scraped her way out of.

She sat up, heart pounding.

If she did nothing, they could hurt him. If she said something, Sophie might get hurt instead.

She pressed her face into her hands and whispered, “God, what am I supposed to do?”

 Same Morning – Burnett Headquarters

Sophie was already in the boardroom before anyone else. She wore a navy pantsuit with a crisp white blouse—strong lines, clean energy. Not fashionable. Strategic.

Camellia stepped in moments later with a tray of coffee and pastries.

“You’re early,” Sophie said, her voice tired but focused.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Sophie looked up at her for a long second. “Neither could I.”

They shared a soft smile—brief, sisterly, painful.

As Camellia set down the tray, Sophie handed her a printed dossier. “This came in from Yara’s office. I want you to be the first to review it. I trust you more than anyone.”

Camellia’s hands shook slightly as she took it. “What’s this?”

“My next move,” Sophie said. “It’s time we go on offense.”

 Inside the Dossier – Project Title: The Phoenix Initiative

Objective: Launch a philanthropic foundation under the Burnett name—led by Sophie—to support women entrepreneurs, abuse survivors, and whistleblowers across Europe and West Africa.

Funding: ₦9.4 billion in private capital from Sophie’s trust.

PR Strategy: Frame it as both personal healing and social impact. Shift narrative from “burned woman” to “woman who builds.”

Expected Effect:

Rebrand Sophie as a leader, not just a survivor.

Increase pressure on Ethan through public goodwill and political visibility.

Set trap for financial enemies trying to discredit her.

Camellia’s eyes widened. “You’re launching… this?”

Sophie nodded. “The old me lived in his shadow. The new me builds something so big he can’t even cast one.”

Camellia’s admiration warred with her panic. This wasn’t just a PR move. It was power. Real power.

And someone wanted it destroyed.

 Across the City – The Crawford Penthouse

Ethan watched the news with a clenched jaw.

“Sophie Burnett to Launch Pan-African Women's Initiative—Press Conference Scheduled for Tomorrow.”

She was climbing. Thriving. Rising like her initiative's name.

Kingmaker’s voice buzzed in on the encrypted phone. “She’s five moves ahead of you.”

“She’s flashy,” Ethan replied. “And soft. She’s using pain as armor.”

Kingmaker chuckled. “The most dangerous people are the ones who’ve already been destroyed.”

Ethan swirled his drink. “Do we have anything on her assistant?”

A pause. “Yes. Camellia Edet. Still loyal. But scared.”

“Then press harder.”

“You’re sure you want to go that route?”

“I want pressure,” Ethan snapped. “I want cracks. Give me one place to hit, and I’ll split her wide open.”

Burnett Home Office – Hours Later

Sophie stood at the whiteboard with Alexander, mapping out media timing for the foundation launch.

“Eight a.m. press release,” Alexander said, ticking the plan. “Ten a.m. soft launch. Noon, official media lunch. Burnett representatives will follow with simultaneous press tours.”

Sophie nodded, arms crossed. “Make sure Camellia approves the logistics.”

Alexander raised an eyebrow. “You trust her that much?”

“She was the only one who stayed when I had nothing,” Sophie replied. “She never once looked at me with pity.”

He leaned against the desk. “That’s rare.”

“I know.”

Alexander was quiet a moment, then added, “You know she’s scared, right?”

Sophie blinked. “What do you mean?”

“She’s flinching at every call. Barely speaks in meetings. She’s carrying something.”

Sophie looked toward the door, where Camellia had just passed by with her tablet and coffee tray.

“I’ll talk to her.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Camellia stood in the Burnett Foundation’s logistics room, surrounded by clipboards, digital tablets, press kits, and enough coffee to fuel an army. But her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

She tried to focus on her tablet. Confirm catering. Approve media list. 

Simple tasks. Things she could do with her eyes closed. But now they felt impossible, like trying to walk a tightrope during a storm.

She reread the message she’d received again that morning:

“You have until tomorrow. Deliver something real—or your brother’s future dies with your silence.”

Her heart thudded in her ears. She glanced at the door.

Sophie was just down the hallway in her office. Calm. Composed. Preparing to announce the launch of The Phoenix Initiative, her boldest, most public project yet.

A project built on trust.

And here Camellia was—breaking under pressure she hadn’t seen coming.

Meanwhile – Sophie’s Office

Sophie sat behind her glass desk, flipping through final legal documents. The official press release was ready. Media would be live in less than twenty-four hours. Burnett-owned outlets in Brussels, and New York were standing by.

Alexander paced nearby, reading off his phone.

“Two members of the Belgian Parliament just followed you, I think they want in before the next big announcement.”

Sophie smirked faintly. “Let them wait.”

“You’re trending again, by the way. #RebornBurnett is catching fire.”

“Let it burn.”

He laughed. “There’s that fire.”

She turned serious. “How’s the background check on Ethan’s fixer going?”

Alexander’s smile faded. “Kingmaker. Former corporate strategist turned mercenary consultant. Used to work with a global lobbying firm but vanished into the shadows. He’s known for applying psychological pressure to high-value targets—blackmail, asset freezes, rumor planting.”

Sophie’s fingers paused mid-signature. “So he’s already playing dirty.”

“He doesn’t know how to play clean.”

She nodded. “Then neither do we.”

Burnett Courtyard – Later That Day

Camellia sat at one of the stone garden tables, untouched latte steaming beside her. Her tablet buzzed.

Kingmaker: “Time’s ticking.”

She shut her eyes and pressed her palm to her forehead.

She had no idea what to do. Reporting to Sophie would put her brother at risk. Obeying Kingmaker meant betraying a woman who had pulled her from obscurity and made her family.

A shadow fell over the table.

“You good?” Sophie asked, setting her own cup down as she joined her.

Camellia flinched, then masked it with a shaky smile. “Yeah. Just... logistics overload.”

“You’re lying.”

Camellia blinked.

Sophie’s eyes were sharp. Not cruel—but perceptive. She’d seen this look on her own face in the mirror after Ethan's betrayal. It was the look of someone on the verge of shattering.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Sophie said gently. “But whatever it is, you’re not alone in it.”

Camellia’s throat clenched. “What if someone you trusted asked you to betray someone else you trust more?”

Sophie didn’t flinch. “Then you hold your breath, plant your feet, and decide who you are—because whatever choice you make, it becomes permanent.”

Camellia’s hands tightened around her cup.

“I can’t lose my brother,” she whispered.

“You won’t,” Sophie said quietly. “We protect family here. Even the ones not born into it.”

Tears filled Camellia’s eyes. But she didn’t cry. Not yet.

She simply nodded and whispered, “Okay.”

Later – Strategy Session

Back in the main boardroom, Sophie met with Freya, Alexander, and three PR executives.

“We drop the Phoenix Initiative launch in Lagos at 8 a.m., Brussels at 10, New York at noon,” one rep said. “Your TED-style speech is scheduled at the Belgium Tech Theatre. Press numbers look solid.”

“And security?” Sophie asked.

“We’ve doubled it,” Alexander said. “Camellia flagged a few guests she didn’t trust. They’ve been removed from the invite list.”

Sophie raised a brow.

“She did?”

“She did.”

Alexander paused, lowering his voice. “She’s scared. But she’s not running. That says a lot.”

Sophie nodded.

Another PR assistant entered, breathless. “Breaking news—Crawford Global just had a minor stock crash. Someone leaked offshore account data.”

Freya smiled for the first time all day. “That’ll hurt.”

Sophie stood. “Good. Then let’s press harder.”

Elsewhere – Kingmaker’s Vault

Kingmaker read Camellia’s message reply with narrowed eyes:

“I’m out.”

He chuckled.

“Wrong answer.”

He dialed a secondary line.

“Activate contingency plan. Soft threat becomes hard pressure. We’re running out of patience.”

The voice on the other end simply said, “Understood.”

That Night – Sophie’s Private Balcony

The city glowed beneath the Burnett estate.

Sophie leaned on the railing, the night breeze brushing her skin, mind still ticking.

Alexander stepped out beside her, two glasses of wine in hand.

“Don’t say anything,” she said. “I’m thinking.”

“I brought wine,” he offered. “That usually makes thinking easier.”

She took a glass and sipped. “Do you think I’m making this too personal?”

“No,” he said. “I think the mistake would be making it impersonal.”

They stood in sile

nce.

Then Sophie said, “They want to break me. So I’m going to give them something they can’t touch.”

“Legacy?”

“No. Control.”

She turned to him, eyes sharp in the moonlight.

“Tomorrow, we launch the Phoenix. And this time, I won’t rise alone.”