Chapter 25
May 30, 2025
Celene’s POV
The second I stepped into the boardroom, the temperature dropped ten degrees. Not physically. Emotionally. Like the walls were holding their breath. Like everyone inside knew this wasn’t going to be a meeting. It was going to be a reckoning.
My heels echoed across the marble floor with the kind of rhythm you don’t interrupt. I didn’t wait to be seated. I didn’t smile. I owned that room before I said a word.
Damon was already there, arms folded, face unreadable. Rhys, too, stone-faced, watching everyone like he was counting betrayals in real time. And across the long mahogany table? Vivian and Bianca. Perfectly polished. Poison-tipped. They didn’t rise when I walked in. They didn’t need to. Their smirks said everything.
The chairman cleared his throat. “This emergency session has been called to address the motion for immediate impeachment of Acting CEO Celene Monroe-”
“Oh, spare us the formality,” Vivian cut in, voice all silk and sharpness. “We’re here because Ms. Monroe has put the company in jeopardy. And frankly, we’ve tolerated the… illusion of leadership long enough.”
Bianca leaned forward, smiling like a knife. “You were a PR stunt, Celene. Nothing more. The ‘modern face’ of Monroe, just long enough to distract investors while the rest of us handled the real work.”
Vivian nodded, eyes cold. “We trusted you with legacy. And what did you do? You embarrassed this company. You lied. You leaked.”
They were loud. Calculated. Convincing- if I hadn’t come prepared. I didn’t flinch. I just sat down, crossed one leg over the other, and smiled. “You’re right,” I said. “I did leak something.” They blinked. “And what I leaked… was you.” I clicked the remote, and the screen behind me came to life.
First: A full audit trail. IP addresses. Log timestamps. Edits to internal documents from Bianca’s credentials, then masked behind a faulty VPN reroute.
Then: A second slide. Vivian’s proxy alias. Used in two backdoor system accesses. Both linked to the metadata of the files that appeared in the media.
The board shifted. Some frowned. Others froze. I stood slowly, voice clear. “You want to talk about trust? Let’s start there. You tried to burn me at the stake with forged documents and a digital trail you thought I wouldn’t trace.”
“You have no proof,” Vivian said sharply, eyes narrowing. “Anyone could’ve fabricated-”
“Oh, don’t worry,” I said, clicking again. “You’ll recognize your own voice.” And there it was. Crystal clear. Audio from The Whitney Club’s private lounge.
Vivian: “She needs to remember where she came from.”
Bianca: “Let’s see how golden she is when she’s fired.”
Warren Cain: “Just make sure it traces back to her.”
Dead silence. Then shifting chairs. Guilty eyes. General counsel rose from her seat. “This evidence is admissible. I recommend immediate suspension pending a full investigation of Mrs. Vivian and Mrs. Bianca Carrington.”
Vanessa bolted up, knocking her chair back. “This is a setup- she framed us-” Security entered the room.
“No- don’t touch me! I’m-” They were already cuffing her. She screamed.
Lydia stood too, sputtering, grasping at nothing. “This company belongs to me. I built it- this is my legacy-” Then she stopped. One hand to her chest. Her breath caught, sharp and shallow. Then- collapse.
Gasps. A thud. But no one rushed to her side. Not even Bianca. Not even Rhys. Because this? This wasn’t my fall. This was theirs. And I’d waited too damn long to apologize for standing tall.
