Chapter 10 - The Queen Reclaims Her Throne
The heavy, iron doors of the federal penitentiary slammed violently shut behind Chelsea Vanguard, completely sealing her fate for the rest of her natural life.
Her father, Richard, was completely ruined by the massive financial hack and was currently sitting in a different federal lockup awaiting trial for massive corporate fraud.
Grant Hart was officially stripped of his prestigious medical license, publicly disgraced, and entirely abandoned by everyone who had once worshipped him.
He was currently sweeping the dirty floors of a rural, underfunded free clinic, completely broken and serving out his heavily reduced probation sentence.
I did not feel a single ounce of pity for any of the people who had foolishly tried to completely destroy my father's beautiful legacy.
I returned to Harbor Grace Medical Center exactly one month later, walking proudly through the grand, sunlit lobby as the sole, undisputed CEO and owner.
The doctors, nurses, and powerful board members bowed their heads respectfully as I passed, fully realizing the sheer, terrifying magnitude of my absolute power.
I ordered fresh, vibrant white lilies for every single nurses' station in the entire hospital, completely restoring the beautiful, living smell my father had always loved.
I walked into the massive, luxurious corner office that Grant had once arrogantly claimed as his own personal kingdom.
The skyline of Chicago glittered beautifully through the pristine glass, and the expensive clock ticked perfectly above the grand mahogany desk.
I sat down in the heavy leather chair, feeling a profound, overwhelming sense of absolute victory and complete, enduring peace.
The brutal nightmare was officially over, and my family's legacy was finally safe, prosperous, and entirely secure for future generations.
I smiled warmly, opening the bottom drawer of my desk to carefully place the scratched wooden box safely back inside its proper resting place.
My smile instantly vanished, and my blood ran completely cold as I stared into the dark shadows of the open drawer.
Resting neatly on top of the old wood was a glossy, high-resolution photograph of me and Sheikh Omar Al-Rashid meeting in absolute secret.
Lying directly across the photograph was a brand-new, incredibly sharp surgical scalpel completely covered in fresh, dripping blood.
May you like
Written across the back of the photograph in dark, smeared crimson ink was a terrifying, handwritten message.
"He is not who you think he is, Mara, and I am finally coming for you both."
