If you were in her shoes, what would you have done? What do you think will happen next? Drop your theories below! Please Subscribe, Like, Share and Comment
Elena POV – “YEARS LATER”The waves crashed like a distant memory - familiar, rhythmic, unthreatening.I stood on the deck of the home we never planned but somehow always needed. A coastal retreat carved out of the life we rebuilt not as CEO and vengeful heiress, but simply as two flawed people who chose each other, again and again.Damien was inside, singing badly to our daughter. She was three now fiery and fearless, already learning how to negotiate bedtime like it was a hostile takeover. Sometimes I wondered if she’d inherited my ruthlessness or Damien’s charm.Probably both. God help us.A breeze swept through, and I inhaled deeply. No perfume, no steel-and-glass skyline. Just salt, pine, and the faint scent of pancakes burning.We didn’t run from the past. We buried what needed burying, and carried what couldn’t be left behind. That’s the thing about trauma it doesn’t disappear. But if you face it with the right person, it softens.I still remember the moment I forgave him not w
The morning sun spilled across the quiet valley, golden light stretching over the fields like a benediction. For the first time in what felt like forever, the world wasn’t on fire. No whispers of betrayal, no looming shadows of power plays. Just birdsong, wind brushing through the trees, and the quiet hush of something sacred being born: peace.Elena stood barefoot on the porch of the modest lakeside cottage she and Damien had found weeks ago. She held a mug of coffee in her hands, steam rising in gentle curls, her robe tied loosely at the waist. The silk was a gift from Damien —unnecessary, she’d said, but secretly, she loved the way it felt against her skin. Luxurious and soft. Like freedom.Behind her, the door creaked open. Damien stepped out, his hair tousled from sleep, eyes still heavy with the comfort of dreams. He slid his arms around her waist from behind and pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck."You’re up early," he murmured.She leaned into him, her body still remember
The silence in the Montrose estate was a hollow thing, vast and echoing. Once, the halls had been filled with the sound of rapid strategy meetings, whispered alliances, and the rhythm of a war machine in motion. Now, only Elena remained, and the weight of her empire rested solely on her shoulders. She stood at the window of her father’s old office; the Montrose crest gilded on the wall behind her, and felt none of the triumph that was supposed to come with victory.She had won. Luca was gone. The empire was hers.But what was an empire without the man she loved?Elena turned away from the window, gripping the back of the leather chair. Her reflection in the glass showed a woman hardened by fire and betrayal, her sharp cheekbones a little more defined, her eyes dulled by everything she’d sacrificed. She’d thought she could have both: the legacy and the love. She’d been wrong.The letter from Damien sat on the desk. She’d read it a dozen times. Each word had carved through her carefully
The war was over.Luca’s empire was rubble, his influence stripped away piece by piece until there was nothing left but dust and silence. And in its place… stood mine.The Montrose name now rang louder than ever across the global networks. News anchors whispered my name with awe. Investors scrambled to pledge allegiance. Leaders — once hesitant, even hostile — extended olive branches.But none of it felt like a victory.The marble halls of the Montrose estate gleamed under sterile chandeliers. Servants returned. Strategists met in polished rooms to discuss our next move. Rosa kept a schedule posted on my desk, color-coded and filled with meetings I couldn’t bring myself to attend.I had won.I had everything.And I had never felt more hollow.I stood in the throne room — not an actual throne, but that’s what they called it now. The command chamber. Where I made the decisions. Where I alone held the fate of this empire.And yet… all I could feel was the absence of the man who should’ve
I had always believed power was forged in fire. But as the first explosions lit the sky over the southern ridge, I realized something else — power wasn’t just built in flames. It was reborn from ashes.And I had plenty of those.The final assault began just before dawn. A gray haze clung to the hills as if the world itself was holding its breath. I stood on the command line in body armor, not behind a desk, not hidden behind walls — but in the thick of it. At the front. Where I should’ve been all along.“Zone Three cleared,” came the voice over the comm. “Luca’s men are retreating toward the eastern trench. No civilians in the perimeter.”“Advance, but spare anyone who surrenders,” I replied coldly. “We end this clean.”My fingers tightened on the earpiece as I surveyed the chaos unfolding below the hill. Mortars rained smoke. Gunfire cracked through the trees. The sounds should have frightened me.Instead, they brought clarity.Luca’s forces were folding faster than expected. I had e
The silence before war is the loudest kind. I stood in the Montrose war room, though I’d long since stopped calling it that out loud - watching the live surveillance feeds flicker on the digital display. Outside these walls, my enemies moved like shadows in the night. Luca’s remaining forces had re-assembled, desperate for a final push to reclaim what they believed was theirs.And I… I was preparing to finish what we started.The air buzzed with electricity; tension thick enough to slice through with a knife. I should have been consumed by strategy, calculating odds, and preparing my final commands. But instead, my mind drifted elsewhere.To him.Damien.I hadn’t seen him since he walked away, his silhouette fading into the mist outside the estate gates, a ghost haunting the edges of my vision. That moment played on repeat in my mind, a loop I couldn’t break free from.I had chosen this life. This war – This empire.But now, as I stood on the edge of victory, the taste was bitter on