Chapter Twenty: Dead Girl Walking

The boardroom doors burst open.

Not from force.

From fear.

A junior assistant scrambled out first, pale as a ghost, clutching a phone to his chest like a lifeline. Two legal aides followed, eyes wide, speaking in hushed, frantic tones. Behind them, one of the board members staggered out with a hand on his chest like he was recovering from trauma.

Every hallway went still as I stepped out.

Me.

In scarlet heels. With Dominic on one side, and Jules on the other.

The staff froze mid-conversation. Mid-step. Mid-breath.

They’d heard the shouting. The shrieks. The gasps. Everyone in this building knew something catastrophic had happened inside that boardroom.

They just hadn’t expected me to walk out on top.

Whispers rippled like wind through glass.

“Is that her?”

“She bought the company…”

“She’s pregnant with Reynolds’ heir.”

“No—Blackwood’s.”

“She’s dangerous.”

I walked like I didn’t hear them.

Because I didn’t need to.

Their silence said everything.

When I reached the reception desk, I stopped.

The same receptionist from earlier—the one who refused to show me the way, who sneered when she thought I was nothing—stood frozen behind the counter, mouth slightly open.

She met my eyes.

I smiled.

Just once.

Her face drained of all color.

And then, like a final act in a tragic play—

She fainted.

Right there behind the desk. Limp. Out cold.

Jules stared down at her, unimpressed. “Dramatic.”

Dominic chuckled softly, adjusting the cuff of his jacket. “I didn’t know I married such a ruthless woman.”

I turned my head toward him, arching a brow. “Are you scared?”

His lips curled. “A little turned on.”

Before I could reply, Jules stepped forward.

“Scarlett,” she said, her tone lower now, serious. “The press is swarming outside. They’re in a frenzy. Don’t let your guard down. Not even for a second.”

I nodded once.

The doors ahead opened.

The flashes were already waiting.

But I wasn’t walking into the chaos as prey anymore.

Now?

I was the storm.

The moment the elevator doors slid open to the lobby, the sound hit me like a wave.

Flashbulbs. Shouting. Screams of my name.

The press had multiplied like a virus—hundreds of reporters, photographers, influencers, and bloggers crushed against velvet ropes, bodies pressed to the glass, cameras trained on every breath I took.

“Scarlett! Are you really pregnant?”

“Did you just steal Reynolds Corp?”

“Dominic! Are you backing this power play?”

“Scarlett, do you regret your first marriage?”

“Is it true the baby isn’t Blake’s?”

The headlines were already loading on the giant digital billboard outside:

BLACKWOOD BRIDE FLIPS THE BOARDROOM.

PREGNANT. POWERFUL. UNTOUCHABLE?

I kept walking.

Dominic flanked my right side, stone-faced and unreadable. Jules was on my left, hand never far from the weapon she kept tucked beneath that chic leather blazer.

I didn’t smile.

I didn’t wave.

I walked like the world owed me silence and was trying to pay it in noise.

We stepped into the waiting town car, and the door shut behind us with a satisfying thud. The soundproof glass dulled the chaos outside, but it didn’t erase it. My name still buzzed in my ears.

Dominic made a quiet call to his security team. Calm. Precise. Scary as hell.

I leaned back against the leather seat, heart still racing, trying to sort through what had just happened.

We did it.

We really did it.

I owned twenty-five percent of Reynolds Corporation.

And the rest?

Was on its knees.

“I’ve never seen a Reynold look like they were going to pass out before,” Jules muttered, scrolling through her phone with one hand, the other resting on the handle of her knife. “God, that was so satisfying.”

I smirked, lips barely curving.

But she didn’t look up.

Her face shifted. Her eyes sharpened.

“Scarlett,” she said softly, “you understand what this means now, right?”

I turned to her, the faint satisfaction still lingering in my blood.

“It means I win.”

“No,” she said, eyes narrowing. “It means they lose. And people like that don’t forgive loss. They retaliate.”

I hesitated.

She continued. “You embarrassed Blake in front of investors. You stole the company from under his mother. You’ve cornered them publicly, legally, financially. That baby?” She pointed at my stomach. “That child means you own them completely the moment it’s born.”

She looked me dead in the eye.

“You’re a target now.”

The words landed cold.

I swallowed.

Before I could reply, my phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number.

I opened it.

Just seven words.

You won’t live long enough to spend it.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Jules grabbed the phone and took a photo of the number.

“Burner,” she muttered. “Private. It’s pinging off a Reynolds legal assistant’s line.”

I looked at her.

“They’re serious,” I said.

“They always were,” she said. “You’re just finally dangerous enough for them to stop pretending otherwise.”

Dominic’s voice broke the tension.

“From now on,” he said, not even looking back from his call, “you’re to be shadowed by two security details. Armed. Rotating shifts. Every room you enter is swept first. No events without clearance. No meetings without guards.”

He ended the call and turned his head just slightly toward me.

“I’m not taking chances.”

I opened my mouth to argue.

“I don’t need—”

He cut me off, voice low. “You do.”

Jules raised a brow but didn’t interrupt.

“And that child?” he added, gaze flicking to my stomach. “They’ll come for it first so you better take whatever protection I give right now.”

I didn’t reply.

There was nothing to say.

He was right.

They couldn’t undo the shares.

But if I didn’t live long enough to give birth?

They’d win by default.

“Then let them try,” I said quietly.

Dominic didn’t smirk.

He just looked at me like I was something new. Something terrifying.

“I’ll be holding a gala,” he said after a long silence. “Blackwood Foundation. Charity angle. We’ll invite the Reynolds.”

My brow lifted. “Why?”

“To see who tries to kill you first.”

He said it like it was a chess move.

Jules nodded slowly. “Smart. Lure the snake out with a violin and a glass of wine.”

“I’m not hiding,” I said.

“No,” Dominic replied, watching me carefully. “But I’m watching.”

We didn’t speak for the rest of the ride.

The moment the car pulled into the Blackwood estate gates, I felt it.

Something in the air had changed.

The front doors were open.

Too open.

Two guards stood near the entrance, shifting uncomfortably.

Dominic’s eyes narrowed. Jules’s hand slid back into her jacket.

We stepped out.

The marble foyer was quiet. Empty.

Too quiet.

Then I saw her.

Standing at the end of the hallway, backlit by the afternoon sun streaming through the stained glass.

Regal. Cold. Wearing cream and gold. Not a single strand of hair out of place.

Dominic’s mother.

She didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

Just stared at me like I was something rotting in her son’s house.

Hatred burned in her eyes.

Silent. Absolute.

And somehow, that silence was louder than anything Blake’s mother had screamed in that boardroom.

Dominic stood beside me, unreadable.

Jules exhaled slowly. “This day just keeps getting better.”

We didn’t speak.

No one did.

But I knew.

This wasn’t over.

It was just beginning.