THE WOMAN WITH THE BRIEF CASE.

Juliet Hale looked like a ghost no one had invited back.

Her silver hair was tied in a smooth twist at the base of her neck, her long dark coat tailored so sharply it looked like it could slice through glass. She stood in the Vale Holdings lobby like it belonged to her—and maybe, at some point, it almost had.

Anais watched from the security feed, frozen in the hallway.

Julien and Dahlia flanked her like two lieutenants. Too smug. Too confident.

Juliet lifted her chin and handed something to the front desk.

A folder.

Irene whispered beside Anais, “She’s requesting a board room. Immediate access.”

“Under what grounds?”

Irene looked at the screen again. “A clause from the original merger agreement—your father’s company and Vale Holdings.”

Anais’s breath caught.

That clause had been buried years ago. Sealed. Forgotten.

But not erased.

Juliet hadn’t come for a meeting.

She’d come to take the floor.

Cassian entered the hallway a moment later, tension carved into his shoulders.

“She invoked the legacy clause,” Anais said without turning.

“I know.”

“How did she get her hands on it?”

“She helped draft it.”

Anais finally looked at him.

“You didn’t tell me.”

Cassian’s jaw worked silently for a moment before he said, “Because I didn’t want to remember she had that kind of power.”

Anais stepped back. “And now she’s using it.”

“Not just to speak,” Cassian said. “To vote.”

The words felt like a slap.

“She’s reinstating herself on the board?”

He nodded. “It was a dormant clause. If she showed proof of investment and majority family tie to a founding entity, she could reactivate it.”

Anais stared at the screen.

“She brought her shares.”

“No,” Irene cut in. “She brought yours.”

Anais blinked. “What?”

Irene turned the screen. “Juliet has a controlling interest in the shell companies Julien reactivated under your name. She’s here as you.”

Anais went ice cold.

Juliet Hale was attempting a corporate coup—in Anais’s skin.

Twenty minutes later, the boardroom was full.

Juliet stood at the head of the long table, calm as a surgeon.

Cassian entered first.

Anais followed.

The room went still.

Juliet turned slowly.

“Well,” she said, with a warm, dry smile. “I was wondering how long it would take you.”

Anais sat directly across from her. “Let’s not pretend this is cordial.”

“Oh, I don’t pretend,” Juliet said. “I come with facts.”

She slid the briefcase onto the table and opened it.

Inside: documents. Contracts. Asset sheets. Photos. Licenses. Even old emails printed in color and clipped by year.

Julien smirked at the sight.

Dahlia crossed her legs and leaned back, bored.

Juliet tapped the papers once.

“These holdings,” she said clearly, “were activated using the name Anais Wren Vale. Legally tied to her personal trust, formed under Hale-Wren Family Investments. That makes me a guardian signatory.”

Anais cut in. “Without consent, it’s fraud.”

“Not if you were deemed incapacitated during the signatory period.”

Anais froze.

That was the loophole. The pain meds. The trauma. The staged incompetence Julien had built years ago under false medical claims.

Juliet had simply picked up the thread and spun it into a noose.

One she was tightening now.

Cassian stepped forward. “If you’re suggesting Anais was mentally unfit—”

“I’m not suggesting,” Juliet said. “I’m proving. With affidavits. Doctor’s reports. All signed by your board-certified specialists, Cassian.”

His mouth pressed into a grim line.

“I knew you’d try this,” Anais said quietly.

“Then you should’ve come prepared,” Juliet replied.

The vote began twenty minutes later.

Juliet presented her case: misuse of trust. Unstable leadership. Diminished market performance under Anais’s influence.

Anais countered: documented sabotage. Fraud. Identity manipulation.

The board was split.

Four voted to side with Juliet.

Three sided with Anais.

The last two abstained.

The vote stalled.

A recess was called.

In the hallway, Anais turned to Cassian.

“If this goes to arbitration, she’ll twist the narrative.”

“She already is.”

Anais looked at Irene. “Find me anything—anything Juliet Hale has ever buried.”

Irene was already dialing.

Cassian watched her for a moment. “There may be something.”

Anais turned sharply. “What?”

“Fifteen years ago, Juliet helped shut down a factory in Belarus. Environmental scandal. She funneled it through a partner company.”

“You didn’t tell me that either?”

He hesitated. “I thought it was irrelevant.”

Anais laughed once, bitter. “You thought she was irrelevant?”

“I thought she was loyal.”

Anais shook her head and walked away.

That night, Anais didn’t go home.

She went to her mother’s old apartment.

It hadn’t been touched in years.

Dust settled over everything. The air was stale and sweet, like old flowers.

She found an old lockbox under the bed.

Inside: letters.

From Juliet.

To her mother.

And one, addressed to Anais.

She opened it with shaking hands.

It was short. Cold.

“If you’re reading this, I’ve failed to protect you from yourself. Don’t be ungrateful. Everything I did was to keep you from becoming a woman who breaks under pressure. Don’t disappoint me.”

Anais sat back.

The woman hadn’t come to destroy her.

She’d come to finish shaping her.

The next morning, Irene found something.

A former accountant of Juliet’s—Nadia Vex—had been quietly paying hush money to cover up a foreign tax evasion ring. Tied directly to Juliet’s shell companies.

Irene slid the files across Anais’s desk.

“It’s enough to get her indicted.”

Anais stared down at them.

“If we leak this,” Irene said, “she loses control of the narrative.”

“And if I keep it?”

“Then she might win the board.”

Anais closed the folder.

“Tell no one. Not even Cassian.”

Irene blinked. “Why?”

“Because I want her to think she’s already won.”

Later that week, Juliet summoned Anais for a private meeting.

They met at a penthouse rooftop overlooking the city.

Juliet wore black again. A drink in hand. Unbothered.

“You should walk away,” she said calmly.

Anais stood by the railing, quiet.

“Let Cassian rot with his secrets. Take your payout. Start fresh.”

Anais looked at her. “Why are you so invested in this?”

Juliet’s expression hardened. “Because I built everything Cassian’s sitting on. And I built you, too.”

Anais stepped closer.

“No,” she said. “You groomed me. Lied to me. Used me.”

“I prepared you,” Juliet corrected. “And look how strong you’ve become.”

Anais didn’t flinch.

She reached into her purse and dropped the folder of tax records onto the table.

Juliet didn’t touch it.

Anais smiled.

“I didn’t come to negotiate.”

Juliet’s jaw ticked.

“You won’t win,” she said flatly.

Anais turned to leave.

“I already have.”

Back at Vale Holdings, Anais stood before the board again.

No makeup. No theatrics.

Just the folder in her hands.

She laid it down.

“This is not just about me,” she said. “It’s about a woman who’s spent her life controlling others and hiding what doesn’t serve her.”

She turned slowly.

“And I’m not the one who needs to be removed.”

Juliet tried to speak.

But Anais cut her off with a single look.

“This isn’t legacy,” she said. “It’s theft.”

The board voted again.

This time—six to three, with one abstention.

Anais stayed.

Juliet was removed.

Julien and Dahlia disappeared that night.

Not a trace.

Not a call.

Not even a whisper of where they went.

Cassian stood by the window in the penthouse the next morning, watching the sunrise.

Anais entered behind him, quiet.

He turned.

“Is it over?” he asked.

Anais looked out at the horizon.

“No.”

Then she looked at him.

“But now I know how to end it.”