Chapter Sixty-Seven: Checkmate

I looked around the table, seeing understanding dawn in twelve faces that had been ready to surrender just moments before.

"So the question isn't whether we can survive his attacks," I said. "The question is whether we're brave enough to finish what we started."

The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity.

Then Richard smiled. "What do you need from us?"

Day Seven

The press conference was scheduled for ten in the morning, held in the Van Alston building's main auditorium. Every major business news outlet had sent reporters, drawn by the promise of a "major announcement regarding the future of Van Alston Industries."

They were expecting a surrender speech. An admission of defeat from an inexperienced heiress who'd been outmaneuvered by a corporate predator.

Instead, I was about to destroy the most feared businessman in America.

"You ready for this?" Dominic asked, adjusting my jacket with hands that were steady despite the magnitude of what we were about to do.

"I've been ready since the moment he threatened my family," I said.

Behind us, the auditorium was filling with reporters, business analysts, and curious investors who'd come to witness what they thought would be the final chapter of the Van Alston story.

"Scarlett," Dominic said, his voice dropping to that intimate tone he used when it was just the two of us. "Whatever happens in there, I want you to know something."

"What?"

"I'm in love with you."

The words hit me like lightning, illuminating corners of my heart I'd been trying to ignore for weeks.

"Dominic—"

"I know the timing is terrible," he said, his hands cupping my face with devastating gentleness. "I know we're about to walk into the most important moment of your professional life. But I needed you to know. In case..."

"In case what?"

"In case I don't get another chance to tell you."

Before I could respond, he was kissing me. Soft and desperate and full of everything we hadn't said, everything we hadn't had time to explore, everything that had been building between us since the day he'd carried me out of that hospital.

When we broke apart, I was breathless and dizzy and completely certain of what I needed to do.

"I love you too," I said. "And when this is over, we're going to talk about what that means."

"When this is over," he agreed.

The auditorium fell silent as I walked onto the stage. Two hundred faces looked up at me with expressions ranging from sympathy to curiosity to barely concealed anticipation of watching me fail.

At the back of the room, I spotted Marcus Blackstone himself. He was standing against the wall, his arms crossed and his cold blue eyes fixed on me with the intensity of a predator watching wounded prey.

He was here to witness my surrender in person.

Instead, he was about to watch his empire crumble.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I said, my voice carrying clearly through the auditorium's sound system. "Thank you for coming. I know many of you expected to hear an announcement about Van Alston Industries accepting a buyout offer from Blackstone International."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Several reporters leaned forward, ready to capture what they thought would be a moment of defeat.

"Instead," I continued, "I'm here to announce that Van Alston Industries is filing formal complaints with the Securities and Exchange Commission, the Federal Trade Commission, and the Department of Justice regarding systematic market manipulation, corporate fraud, and racketeering by Marcus Blackstone and Blackstone International."

The murmurs turned to gasps. Camera flashes exploded like lightning.

"For the past week," I said, "Van Alston Industries has been documenting illegal attempts to manipulate our stock price, coordinated attacks on our business relationships, and the use of regulatory agencies to harass and intimidate our company."

I gestured to the large screen behind me, which began displaying evidence that Sarah team had been gathering for days. Phone records, financial transactions, and communications that painted a picture of corporate warfare disguised as legitimate business practices.

"But this evidence represents more than just an attack on Van Alston Industries," I continued. "Our investigation has uncovered a pattern of similar illegal activities targeting dozens of companies over the past twenty years."

The screen changed to show a timeline of Blackstone's acquisitions, each one preceded by the same pattern of manufactured crises and coordinated attacks.

"Marcus Blackstone isn't a successful businessman," I said, my voice carrying to every corner of the auditorium. "He's a criminal who has systematically destroyed American companies through fraud, manipulation, and extortion."

That's when I saw him.

Agent Patricia Reynolds of the FBI, standing near the side entrance with a team of federal agents.

Right on schedule.

"Which is why," I said, "Van Alston Industries has been working with federal law enforcement for the past seventy-two hours to build a comprehensive case against Blackstone International and its associates."

Marcus Blackstone's face went white. He started moving toward the exit, but Agent Reynolds was already in motion.

"Marcus Blackstone," her voice carried across the auditorium as she flashed her badge. "FBI. You're under arrest for securities fraud, racketeering, and conspiracy to commit extortion."

The auditorium erupted in chaos. Reporters shouted questions, cameras flashed, and everyone tried to get a better view of the most powerful businessman in America being led away in handcuffs.

But all I could see was Dominic, standing at the side of the stage with an expression of pure pride and amazement.

I walked straight to him, ignoring the chaos around us, ignoring the reporters shouting my name, ignoring everything except the man who'd believed in me when no one else would.

"You did it," he said, his voice full of wonder. "You actually did it."

"We did it," I corrected.

And then he was kissing me again, this time with no hesitation, no holding back, no concern for who might be watching. This was the kiss of two people who'd fought a war together and won. The kiss of two people who'd found something worth fighting for in each other.

When we finally broke apart, the auditorium had quieted enough for me to hear my phone ringing.

"Scarlett," the voice on the other end was weak but unmistakable. "Is that you?"

"Victoria?" I gasped.

"I heard," she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. "I heard you destroyed him. I'm so proud of you, my granddaughter."

Through the auditorium windows, I could see Manhattan stretching out below us—eight million people going about their lives, working jobs that were safer now because a predator had been stopped.

Van Alston Industries was safe. The employees were safe. Victoria's legacy was secure.

And I was exactly where I belonged—in the arms of the man I loved, having claimed not just my inheritance, but my place as the rightful queen of the Van Alston empire.

The war was over.

We had won.

And for the first time since this whole incredible journey began, the future felt bright enough to be worth fighting for.