Все главы His Choice Wasn't Me: Глава 41 - Глава 50

Three weeks had passed since Julia Augustine’s passing, yet the world still felt hollow to Sarah.Every morning, she woke to the same quiet emptiness that followed loss — the silence of a house once filled with Julia’s voice, her laughter, her firm but gentle presence.Now, that warmth was gone.The day of the burial arrived beneath a dull, gray sky that threatened rain. London had turned out in full to honor its fallen icon.Streets were lined with black cars, and the air carried a low murmur of grief mixed with curiosity.Reporters crowded discreetly outside St. William’s Cathedral, where the funeral mass was held, whispering about the life and empire of the woman they called The Iron Matriarch of Business.Inside the cathedral, chandeliers glimmered softly over a sea of dark suits and veiled faces. Business magnates, government officials, and foreign delegates filled the pews.Some were there out of respect, others out of political correctness. But for Sarah, this wasn’t a public c

The morning after the will reading, the world woke to a storm of headlines. “Sarah Williams Inherits the Transcorp Empire!”“From Protégé to Powerhouse: The Rise of Sarah Williams.” “Julia Augustine’s Shocking Will Leaves Fortune to Her Mentee.”Every news channel ran it on loop. The internet buzzed. Bloggers speculated, stock analysts debated, and rival companies scrambled to understand what it meant for the balance of power.Julia Augustine’s death had already been a global story but now, Sarah was the face of a new era, whether she wanted it or not.At Transcorp headquarters, reporters gathered outside the gates, their cameras flashing, their microphones raised high. Security guards struggled to keep the growing crowd away.Inside, the atmosphere was tense. Every corridor hummed with whispers.Some employees smiled when they saw Sarah, bowing slightly in respect, but others avoided her gaze.Jealousy and uncertainty mixed with admiration. Everyone knew that the empire now belonge

The afternoon sun was still heavy behind a misty sky when Sarah’s jet descended smoothly onto the private runway in New York.The silver wings glistened against the soft light, slicing through the clouds like a promise fulfilled. As soon as the plane came to a halt, a convoy of six black SUVs lined up neatly on the tarmac, their engines humming low but steady.Twelve bodyguards stepped out simultaneously, each dressed in black, sunglasses concealing their eyes.The moment Sarah appeared at the jet’s door, they all bowed slightly — a practiced gesture of respect that spoke of loyalty and discipline. Her assistant, Eva, followed closely behind, clutching her tablet nervously.The lead guard opened the car door, his voice calm but firm. “Welcome back, ma’am.”Sarah nodded lightly and stepped into the second SUV. Her presence carried quiet command — graceful but firm.The others got in immediately, and within seconds, the convoy rolled out, tires whispering against the asphalt as they lef

The morning started like any other — at least until chaos found its way into the Striker mansion. The sun had barely climbed over the roofs when Clara jolted awake, realizing she’d overslept.The house was unusually quiet, save for the ticking of the golden wall clock in her small room.“Oh my God,” she gasped, jumping out of bed. James always liked his breakfast hot before heading to the office, and she had barely twenty minutes left.She hurried to the kitchen, not even noticing that she was still in her thin nightgown — the one Tiana had earlier complained was “too revealing for a maid.”In her haste, she fried the eggs, brewed the coffee, and arranged the toast exactly how James preferred.As she carried the tray out, James had just descended the staircase, adjusting his wristwatch and glancing at the time.“Good morning, sir,” she greeted quickly, lowering her head as she set the tray before him.James gave a tired nod and reached for his cup. But as she leaned forward, the sunli

The new week arrived with a restless hum inside Transcorp headquarters. Ever since Sarah’s thunderous return to the boardroom, the air around her had changed — firmer, sharper, untouchable.The same men and women who once whispered behind her back now straightened their postures whenever she passed. But power, as she knew, always attracted new storms.She stood before the massive digital screen in her office, a cup of black coffee in her hand. The screen displayed maps — New York, London, Shanghai, Johannesburg — all dotted with red markers.Lines connected them like a web.This was her next move.“The Global Integration Project,” she said softly to herself.Ella, her assistant, stepped in quietly. “The press release draft is ready, ma,” she said, placing a file on the table.Sarah nodded. “Good. The sooner we announce, the better. It’s time the world knows where Transcorp is heading.”Ella hesitated, then asked, “Do you think the board will agree, ma? You already know some of them ar