Chapter seven

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 with an 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.

****

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.

***

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.

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, 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

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.