The First Strike.
Zyrah’s Point of View.
The metal bars slide open with a loud, grating clang.
I didn’t move at first.
I sat on the hard cot, my body still, my fingers curled tightly in my lap, my pulse slow and controlled.
But inside, I was burning.
“You’re free to go.” The cop said, the words barely register.
I looked up at him, surprised at how quick it was. It wasn’t up to an hour until I spoke to my brother, and now, I am free.
Free?
Just like that?
I lift my head slowly, my breath steady, my expression blank. On the outside, I look calm and unaffected, but deep down, I know.
Darius did it.
The devil of a brother kept his promise.
I stood, my legs aching from a night of humiliation and betrayal, the guards barely look at me as they escort me out.
They don’t speak.
They don’t have to, because the world outside isn’t the same as it was yesterday, neither am I.
I step through the doors of the detention center just as the first camera flashes go off.
The media is already there.
Reporters, paparazzi, and news anchors. Shouting, screaming, and demanding answers.
“Mrs. Lancaster, how did you walk free?”
“Is it true someone set you up?”
“Who is the culprit?”
“Are you working for someone?”
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The First Strike.
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“How are you able to be released so fast?”
Their questions bored me but I didn’t respond. I kept walking, my head high with a face unreadable, because I knew what they were really asking.
How did she survive?
The answer is simple, I was never meant to break.
By the time I reach the waiting car, the world is already spiraling.
I slide into the sleek black Mercedes, the leather seats cold against my skin. The door shuts, blocking out the scream- ing reporters.
I emerge from the prison gates a different woman.
The weak, naïve wife who once believed in love? She died the moment Ronan sold her out.
The woman who trusted too easily? She shattered the second he walked away.
Now, only Zyrah Callisto Aeternum remains.
A convoy of black luxury cars waits outside, the polished chrome reflecting the morning sun. The second I step for- ward, a team of staff rushes toward me, efficient and silent..
I didn’t say a word and for the first time in hours, a blessed silence.
I got into the car and immediately, I heard a sound, a slow clap.
I didn’t turn beside me to look because I didn’t need to.
I already know who it is.
“You did well, little sister.”
Darius Kael Aeternum sits across from me, his face unreadable, his sharp suit flawless, untouched by the chaos he just unleashed.
I inhale deeply, my hands curling into fists against my lap.
“The charges?” I ask, my voice steady.
“Gone,” he says smoothly, leaning back. “Like they never existed.”
A slow exhale leaves my lips.
I should feel relief and gratitude, but all I felt was rage because I should never have been in that cell, to begin with.
Ronan put me there, and now, he’s going to pay.’
“Tell me,” I say, meeting Darius’s gaze. “Did you leave a mark?”
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The First Strike.
A slow smirk spreads across his face.
“Oh, Zyrah,” he murmurs, “I didn’t just leave a mark, I set the whole thing on fire.”
I smirked, pain radiating from my eyes.
It starts as a whisper.
A tiny, insignificant spark, but by the time I stepped into my mansion, a property I didn’t even know Darius still kept in my name was waiting patiently for me, the fire was already spreading.
The headlines hit the news.
“Zyrah Lancaster Walks Free, all Charges Dropped Mysteriously Overnight.”
“Did Ronan Lancaster Frame His Own Wife?”
“Anonymous Sources Suggest Financial Scandal at Vale Industries.”
I read them, one by one, my fingers tightening around the tablet in my hands.
Ronan wanted me to take the fall.
But now?
He’s the one standing on the edge of destruction.
I glance up, meeting Darius’s gaze across the room.
“What did you do?” I asked quietly.
He smirks, completely at ease.
“I gave them something better to talk about.”
My pulse quickens.
“The media loves a scandal,” he continues, sipping his whiskey. “So I gave them one, a much bigger, juicier one.”
I waited, my heart pounding.
“I flipped the narrative,” he says simply.
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He turns the tablet in my hands to the next article.
And suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.
“Uncovering the Truth, was Ronan Lancaster Involved in Financial Fraud?”
My body went still as I stared at the headline. I couldn’t believe it; it was Ronan’s name, not mine; the accusations were now pointed at him.
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The First Strike.
Oh my God.
I turned to my brother, happiness boiling inside me.
“They wanted a villain,” Darius murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “I simply reminded them who the real one was.”
A slow, shaking breath leaves my lips.
Ronan thought he could bury me, he thought he could walk away untouched.
But now, he’s the one being dragged into the fire, and this time, I’m the one holding the match.
“Go get dressed; we have somewhere to be,” Darius said and without waiting for my response, he walked away, ac- companied by his assistant.
Two maids walked up to me.
“Please come with us, ma’am,” one of them said, and I nodded.
We walked down the luxurious hallway, heading towards the master bedroom.
Inside, a grand welcome was prepared, and waiting for me, racks of designer dresses, tailored suits, and luxury shoes.
My fingers brush over the fine silk of a Valentino gown, then slide over the sharp edges of a custom-made Alexander McQueen suit.
A choice.
A wife’s wardrobe, or a warrior’s armor.
With a nod of approval, I reach for the suit.
Soon, I was dressed in ruthless black, my hair sleek and pinned back, I followed Darius into the waiting car.
The drive was silent, I didn’t bother to ask Darius where we were going because I didn’t mind.
Darius doesn’t speak, and neither did I because there’s nothing left to say.
We both know what comes next.
The Aeternum Enterprises tower looms ahead, its glass structure reflecting the city skyline. The car pulls up to the private entrance, and the moment I step out, my heads turn.
Everyone looked shocked to see me the moment I stepped into the company with Darius beside me.
I heard gaps and whispers.
“Is that…?”
“No way. It’s been years.”
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The First Strike.
“She’s back!”
The voices spoke as everyone’s eyes were fixed on me.
I walk past them, my heels clicking against the polished marble floors, owning the space the way I was always meant
And when I enter the boardroom, the whispers die completely.
The Acternum board is already seated, men and women dressed in impeccable suits, expressions carefully neutral.
But beneath that, shock and uncertainty gloom because to them, I am a ghost, a face they thought they would never see again, not after three years.
The heiress who abandoned her empire for love.
The foolish girl who walked away.
Darius stands at the head of the table, unbothered as always.
“Let’s begin,” he announces, his voice cutting through the silence.
The executives straighten, pulling their focus back.
Then, he gestures toward me.
“I assume you all remember my sister.”
A murmur spreads across the room.
Some nodded, while others exchanged unreadable glances.
I keep my expression blank.
I won’t beg for their approval, neither will I explain myself.
I don’t have to.
Darius leans back in his chair, studying the board like a king watching his court.
“For those who are confused, let me be clear,” he says smoothly. “Zyrah Callisto Aeternum isn’t just back, she’s re- claiming her place.”
There was total silence, heavy, and suffocating.
Then, one of the older executives clears his throat.
“With all due respect, Mr. Aeternum,” he says carefully, “your sister has been absent for three years. She left, and now she’s just… returning?”
Darius smirks.
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He was about to speak but I chose to answer instead. I lift my chin, my voice steady, razor-sharp.
“I didn’t return.” I let the words settle as all eyes stared at me. “I rose from the ashes and I am here to run this compa- ny just the way my father has always wanted me to do.”
The silence was cold as no one dared to say a word.
Then, Darius chuckled, a deep, knowing sound.
“You’re either the luckiest woman alive,” he murmurs, “or the most dangerous.”
I meet his gaze, my lips curving slightly into a smirk.
“I’ll let you decide, brother.”
The boardroom door swings open, and a senior assistant steps inside.
She walks directly to me, her head bowed in deference.
“Welcome back, Ms. Aeternum.” She acknowledged with a bow.
The war has just begun.
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