The Company’s Meeting.
Zyrah’s Point Of View.
The air in my office was cold, deliberate, like everything else in my life now.
I sat behind my desk, posture relaxed, but my pulse was a slow, steady drumbeat beneath my skin. The chair which once belonged to my father, still smelled faintly of his aftershave, vetiver and oak, a scent that reminded me of con- trol, of strategy, of legacy, everything Ronan tried to erase.
The sunlight bled through the tall windows, softening the obsidian polish of the floor, but the warmth didn’t reach me, not here, or today.
My fingers moved over the edge of the folder in front of me, even though I’d read it three times already. I wasn’t reading it anymore, I was watching the headlines in my mind play out like prophecy.
“Who is Zyrah?”
“The city justice system is ruined.”
“How did she get released from jail?”
The headline read and there were thousands of comments and reposts.
I smirked reading intensively, suddenly, the door of my office flung open and Darius walked in, Darius never knocked.
He pushed the door open and stepped in like he owned the air around him. Black suit, no tie, wristwatch gleaming, understated, and unbothered. I watched him as he closed the door behind him with a soft click, and I caught the faint scent of his cologne, clean, sharp, like steel before the swing.
“It’s out,” he said.
I didn’t look up. “That didn’t take long.”
“Front page, name, face, and the works. ‘Zyrah Lancaster Released After Fraud Conviction Overturned.””
I raised an eyebrow, flipping another page just to keep my hands busy. “Still using his last name.”
“Until we bury him,” he said flatly. “Then we burn the name too.”
I looked up and met his eyes. “What’s the tone?”
Darius smirked. “Confusion, and deep curiosity. The press loves a good phoenix story, but Ronan? He’s not curious, he’s spiraling, right about now, he’s asking himself how the hell you got out of jail without him hearing a whisper.”
I leaned back in the chair and exhaled slowly. “Good.”
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The Company’s Meeting.
Ronan had always loved control. He needed to know everything, predict everything. He used to tell me I was a beau- tiful variable, his little chaos to tame.
How poetic.
He built a lie around me, framed me to protect himself, and thought I’d break when the world turned its back.
But he never asked who I really was.
He never once thought to ask why a girl with no pedigree could quote international finance law better than his lawyers. Why I knew the structure of his company better than his board, he just assumed I was lucky, decorative, and disposable.
Let him wonder now.
Darius crossed the room and dropped into the leather seat across from me, his expression shifted, still sharp, but heav- ier now. “Zyrah, we need to be clear. This media chaos, It’s not our move, not yet. It’s smoke just enough to rattle him, not enough to push him into defense.”
“I know,” I said. “He doesn’t even know who he’s playing against yet.”
“Exactly, and we keep it that way, for now.”
I nodded, but Darius leaned forward, voice lower, colder.
“We haven’t started, not really.”
“I’m aware,” I said softly.
“This isn’t just about embarrassment, this is war. We’re not here to make noise, Zyrah, we’re here to take everything.”
I stared at him, the weight of what he said pressing down on my ribs. “We’re not here to humiliate him,” I echoed. “We’re here to hollow him out.”
Darius held my gaze. “You’ve been quiet for too long. You let him parade you like a prize while he gutted your name, you let him bury you alive.”
“He thought I’d stay buried.”
“But now?” He paused. “Now he’s scared. He won’t show it, not yet, but trust me, I’ve seen men like him unravel, the moment he realizes you’re not just free, but powerful, the panic will set in.”
A silence settled between us, deep and sharp.
Then he added, voice like ice: “We finish what we start, no second thoughts, or hesitation, neither mercy.”
I looked him in the eye, something in my chest tightening, not fear, not regret. Something cleaner, and sharper.
“There’s no going back,” I said.
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The Company’s Meoung.
Darius nodded once. “Then let’s get ready to burn him down.”
Before either of us could say another word, there was a knock at the door, firm and professional.
“Come in,” I said.
Sienna stepped inside, tablet in hand, glasses perched neatly on her nose. “Apologies for the interruption, the board- room is prepared, and the guests have arrived.”
Perfect timing.
Darius stood, straightened his jacket, and glanced toward the door. “Then let’s go.”
I rose slowly, adjusting my blazer, smoothing my expression into the calm mask I’d perfected.
This wasn’t the time for fire.
It was the time for precision.
I walked to the door and Darius followed, his footsteps quiet behind me.
I could feel it now, humming under my skin, the beginning, the edge of everything, and the calm before I strike.
Darius and I walked into the boardroom, it felt like a battlefield dressed in velvet.
Floor-to-ceiling windows painted the room in natural light, diffused across polished wood, silver water pitchers, and black leather chairs. The space smelled like paper power, and history, the kind only money and legacy could stitch together.
Darius and I stepped in together, and already, the four men were seated, talking in low tones. As we entered, they all stood out of respect, old habits die hard, especially for men who once bowed to my father’s word like it was law.
I recognized each face immediately, legends in their own right, and titans of the city.
The first man was Julian Crane, CEO of Crane Maritime. Late sixties, with sharp gray eyes and a salt-and-pepper beard that gave him the look of a seasoned admiral. He and my father once split territory along the coast like emper- ors dividing empires.
I smiled at him as I turned to the man who stood next to him, he is Benedict Thorne, founder of Thorne Biotech. Small-framed but ruthless, with a voice that always carried twice its weight. His glasses glinted under the light as he gave me a slow nod.
“Good to see you Zyrah.” He said I nodded with a smile as I turned to the next man.
He was Richard Obasi, chair of Obasi Ventures. Warm brown skin, deep-set eyes, and a thoughtful expression that never quite gave away what he was thinking. He had always been the moral anchor among them, the one my father trusted to speak last, but loudest.
“I am happy to have you here.” I said to him and he nodded slightly with a smile on his face.
I turned to the last man standing, he is Matteo Morelli, the youngest among them, but no less dangerous. Head of
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The Company’s Meeting.
Morelli & Co. Investments. Italian blood, Wall Street teeth. He was dressed like a man who could kill you with a smile and buy your company before your body went cold.
These weren’t just powerful men.
These were the men my father once trusted with his life.
“Gentlemen,” I said with a smile that was all steel beneath the silk. “Thank you for coming.”
“Zyrah.” Julian said first, stepping forward to grip my hand. “You look more and more like your father every year.”
“God rest him,” Benedict muttered, bowing his head. “He’d be proud.”
“Darius,” Matteo added with a nod toward my brother. “Still keeping her out of trouble?”
“Trying.” Darius said dryly, though I could feel the heat of his loyalty like a shield at my side.
After greetings, pleasantries, handshakes, and a few well-timed jokes, we sat. The air shifted the moment we did. Something settled. Purpose.
But the silence didn’t last long.
It was Julian who broke it, his voice low but direct.
“Zyrah,” he said, folding his hands on the table, “Where have you been these last three years? No one’s seen you, there was no word from you, it felt like you disappeared.”
My stomach tightened, not from fear, but from the restraint it took not to let the venom rise too fast.
“I chose love,” I said, my voice even. “Over the company, over logic, and the warnings that were clear enough for me to see. Now I have learnt my lesson in a very hard way.”
They were silent.
I could feel Darius watching me from beside, his presence grounding, bracing me.
“I met someone, his name is Ronan. We met at a private gala in Milan. He was charming, beautiful, really, everything you’d expect in a man you shouldn’t trust, but I didn’t see that then. I fell hard, fast, and I married him within six months of us courting. Though I was building a future with someone who saw me, although I didn’t tell him about my last name, I was so glad that I didn’t.”
I looked up and met their eyes, one by one.
“But Ronan never really saw me at all.”
I leaned back slowly. “After our wedding, everything changed. The charm turned to criticism, the attention turned to cold silence. There was always someone else around, Seline, his ex-girlfriend, she was always whispering, visiting our home and even spending time with him at his office. Most people sometimes mistake her to be his wife, which I don’t blame them because Ronan never took me to a social gathering. Seline was always close, and foolish me, I even made myself befriend her just to keep the peace.”
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The Company’s Meeting.
My voice cracked slightly at the edge, but I didn’t let it break.
“I became smaller and smaller to make room for him, and the more I shrank, the more he stepped on me.” Benedict frowned. “You were off the grid that entire time. We assumed you’d gone into retreat after your father passed.”
“I wish that was all,” I said. “What none of you knew… was that Ronan framed me. There was a fraud scandal at his company, millions of dollars vanished, he pinned it on me, built the paper trail, and got ahead of the headlines. Ronan had me arrested, humiliated in front of the press as I was taken into the cop car still in my nightwear, I was thrown into jail like I meant nothing.”
Julian’s fist clenched against the table, and I watched as Matteo’s jaw tightened.
“And he paid me off,” I added. “One million dollars and a nondisclosure agreement. Thought that would be enough to buy my silence, he thought I was just some foolish girl with no name.”
Richard finally spoke, voice quiet but heavy. “But you weren’t.”
“No,” I said, and this time my voice held fire. “I’m Zyrah Aeternum, daughter of Elias Aeternum. Heiress to the com- pany he tried to destroy without realizing I was born from it.”
“And how did you get out?” Julian asked, still stunned.
I turned my head toward Darius.
“My brother, one phone call. That’s all it took, he cleared the charges overnight, and had a legal team at my cell be- fore Ronan even knew I was gone.”
Darius said nothing, but his silence was louder than a war drum.
There was a beat of stillness.
Then Benedict leaned forward, brows furrowed.
“What’s his name?” he asked. “This man.”
I stared them dead in the eye.
“Ronan Lancaster,” I said. “CEO of Lancaster International.”
The room went still.
Matteo let out a low curse. “That smug bastard.”
“I brought you here,” I continued, “because I’m ready to take everything from him, piece by piece, and I won’t do it quietly. I’ll tear down the company he built with lies and make him watch as it falls into my hands.”
Julian’s voice came first. “And you want our help.”
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288 Vouchers
The Company’s Meeting.
“I need your backing, your connections, and your leverage. I don’t want to just ruin him alone, but to rebuild what comes after. I want Lancaster International, and I want Ronan left with nothing.”
There was silence again.
Then Richard leaned back, nodding slowly. “Your father saved my family once, he invested when no one else would. I owe him everything, and by extension… I owe you.”
Benedict added, “Count me in, this isn’t just revenge. It’s justice.”
Matteo smirked, eyes gleaming. “Let’s destroy him.” And Julian, ever the general, simply said, “Tell us where to strike.”
I breathed in, and for the first time in years, it felt like the ground beneath me wasn’t shaking anymore.
They all got up on their feet.
I stood as the men did, my hands still tingling from the weight of everything I’d just said. My truth was no longer buried in silence, I had exposed the rot, placed the name Ronan Lancaster on the table like a target, and watched four titans nod in agreement.
Their loyalty wasn’t casual. It was carved from memory, my father’s memory, and now, it belonged to me.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, genuinely. “For believing in me, for believing in my father’s legacy.”
Julian gave a short, respectful bow of the head. “You’re your father’s daughter, Zyrah, you carry that name like steel, and this is the least we can do for the sacrifices your father did for us.”
“We follow power,” Benedict said. “And right now? You have it.”
Matteo smiled faintly as he adjusted his cufflinks. “And if you want Ronan in ruins, I’ll make sure his investments crumble before he even sees the strike coming.”
Richard was the last to speak, his eyes steady. “We’re behind you in every step, just say the word.”
I nodded, heart steady now. “You’ll have the plan soon.”
That’s when Darius finally spoke.
He stepped forward with his usual quiet precision, the commander stepping into the light just long enough to issue or- ders.
“Each stage of the operation will be sent to your teams before we execute,” he said. “No surprises, or exposure, you’ll know what’s happening and when, all you need to do is say yes, or stay out of the way.”
The men nodded, all understanding the stakes. This wasn’t business, it was dismantled, a coordinated ruin of a man who had built his castle on lies.
Then, one by one, they extended their hands. I shook each of them firmly, and with every grasp, I felt the storm gath- ering behind me.
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The Company’s Meeting.
Julian, Benedict, Matteo, and Richard.
Names my father trusted, names now bound to me.
288 (Vouchers
As they exited the boardroom, the door slowly closed behind them, muffling their fading voices with a soft click that left the room in weighted silence.
I exhaled, turning to Darius.
He was watching me, arms crossed, expression unreadable, but I knew that smirk. It was barely there, tugging at the corner of his mouth like he was trying to suppress it.
“Well,” he said, voice calm and amused, “looks like Lancaster just got a countdown started.”
I smiled, something sharp flickering behind my ribs. “He has no idea what’s coming.”
Darius chuckled, stepping beside me and leaning casually on the edge of the table. “He thought throwing you in a cell was the end of the story. That you’d stay quiet, stay gone. God, he’s going to be sorry.”
I turned to the window, watching the city move like chess pieces beneath the skyline.
“He should’ve killed me,” I said. “Because now I’m coming for everything.”
Darius’s voice dropped to a whisper behind me. “Then let’s give him something to be afraid of.”
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