The moment I stepped outside, a black Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled up silently. The door opened, and a man in a tailored suit stepped out, bowing slightly. "Ms. Kensington. I'm Daniel, your head of security. The board sent me." I glanced back at Marcus's house, the lights warm and golden through the windows. I could see Jade already rearranging the living room, tossing my things into trash bags. "Daniel," I said, climbing into the car, "I need you to do something for me." "Anything, ma'am." "Find out everything about a woman named Jade Holloway. Where she came from. What she wants. And how she met my husband." "Ex-husband," Daniel corrected gently. I exhaled. "Right. Ex-husband." The car glided through the city. I leaned back against the leather seat and closed my eyes. Three years. Three years of pretending to be ordinary. Of cooking meals that Marcus never thanked me for. Of enduring his mother, Helen, who once dumped a bowl of soup on my head because it "wasn't hot enough." I had taken it all because my grandfather made me promise. *"The wolves in the boardroom will tear you apart if they know you're young and untested. Live quietly. Learn people. Learn who to trust. When the time comes, you'll know."* He died six months ago. The lawyers needed time to verify the will, authenticate documents, and dismantle the temporary board that had been running things. Tomorrow, it would all be official. My phone rang. The caller ID read: **Helen Ashford** — Marcus's mother. I answered. "Vivienne!" Her voice was shrill, triumphant. "Marcus told me the good news. Finally, you're gone! I always knew you were just a gold-digger clinging to my son." I held the phone away from my ear, letting her rant. "And don't you dare come crawling back! Jade is a real woman, from a real family. Her father owns three restaurants. THREE. What does your family have? Nothing!" Three restaurants. I almost laughed. The Kensington Group owned 11,000 properties across 40 countries. But sure. Three restaurants. "Are you listening to me?!" Helen screeched. "Yes, Helen. I heard you." "Good. And one more thing—Jade told me you tried to steal the Aston Martin. That car was a gift from Marcus's business partner. If I hear you touched it, I'll have you arrested." I blinked. "That's not true. I bought—" "LIAR!" she screamed. "You never had money for anything! You couldn't even afford decent shoes! Stop embarrassing yourself and disappear!" The line went dead. I sat in silence for a long moment. Daniel watched me through the rearview mirror, his expression carefully neutral. "Ma'am? Should I—" "No," I said. "Let them enjoy tonight. Tomorrow will be... different." Daniel nodded. "The penthouse is ready for you. Top floor of the Kensington Tower. Your grandfather kept it untouched." When we arrived, I stepped into the elevator and rose sixty-two floors. The doors opened to a space that stole my breath, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entire city, white marble, a grand piano, fresh peonies on every surface. On the dining table sat a leather folder. Inside was a single page: *"To my granddaughter Vivienne Kensington. Everything I built is now yours. Every company, every account, every name. Use it wisely. And never let anyone make you feel small again. — Grandpa Edward"* My hands trembled. Not from weakness, from fury. Three years. Three years I had been small for them. I set the letter down and picked up my phone. "Daniel. The gala tomorrow. I want a front-row seat. And make sure Marcus and Jade get their invitation personally. VIP section." "With pleasure, ma'am." I walked to the window, the city glittering below like scattered diamonds. Tomorrow, Marcus would walk into that gala with Jade on his arm, thinking he owned the room. He had no idea he was walking into *my* empire.