Chapter 26
May 30, 2025
Celene’s POV…
You’d think victory would feel like a roar. But standing in front of the board, watching them prepare for a vote that could either make me or erase me, it felt more like the moment right before a match was struck. Quiet. Tense. One breath away from fire.
I sat at the end of the table in a room lined with tailored suits and decades of legacy. Not one of them was smiling. Not one of them thought this day would come. Except Fernand Monroe. My father stood slowly from his seat at the head of the table, the same one he’d ruled from for over twenty-five years. The room stilled like someone had pulled the air out of it. He looked across the table. Calm. Composed. But there was something different in his face, less of a CEO, more of a man.
“I’ve led this company through expansions, collapses, buyouts, and wars,” he began, voice low but strong. “But I’ve never faced a reckoning like the one we just endured.” Some board members exchanged glances. No one interrupted.
“I built Monroe to outlive me. And I’ve made mistakes, too many to list. But my greatest mistake was assuming legacy was inherited… not earned.” He looked at me. Direct. Unblinking.
“And this woman, my daughter. earned every inch of it.” A hush rippled across the table. He stepped back from his chair.
“As of today,” he said, placing both hands flat on the table, “I am stepping down as acting CEO of Monroe Industries.” Shock. Actual gasps. Whispers broke out like electricity sparking through a wire. Fernand turned to the room one last time.
“And I am formally recommending Celene Monroe as my full successor.” His voice didn’t shake. But mine almost did. Not because I was scared, but because I felt it. The weight of every day I had overlooked. Doubted. All of it rising, and falling away. The vote was unanimous. No dissent. No delays. Just the sound of my name, CEO, being written into the record like it always belonged there.
The boardroom cleared out in waves after the vote. Glasses clinked. Hands were shaken. There was even a toast. But I didn’t move. I just sat there. Staring at the chair that had been his, and was now mine. My hand touched the edge of the table like I was grounding myself. Then I felt someone step beside me. It was Fernand.
He didn’t smile. He didn’t cry. He just reached into his inside pocket and pulled out the old Monroe signet ring, the one I used to steal glances at when I was twelve and stupid enough to believe power was jewelry. He placed it on the table. No flourish.
“You earned this,” he said. “Not with charm. Not with shortcuts. With grit.”
My throat tightened. “Is this where you say I proved you wrong?”
He let out a quiet laugh. “No. It’s where I say… you scared the hell out of me. Because deep down, I knew if you ever really fought for it, no one, not even me, could stop you.”
I swallowed hard. My voice came out quiet. But it carried. “Thanks, Dad.”
He flinched, barely. But I saw it. The first time I’d ever called him that. He didn’t hug me. He didn’t get emotional. He just gave me a look that said everything I’d been trying to earn for years.
“You were never just an heiress,” he said. “You were always the architect.” And then he left. Like a king who knew the throne was finally in the right hands.
Later that night, I stepped out onto the terrace to breathe. The city lights blinked like camera flashes across the skyline. It felt surreal. Like I’d stepped into the kind of life they always said I wasn’t meant to have. And then I saw him. Damon. Leaning against the stone railing, hands in his pockets, like he didn’t just help me win a war.
“You’re not inside?” I asked.
He didn’t turn. “Figured I’d let the real crown holder have her moment.” I walked up beside him.
“Why do you sound like you’re saying goodbye?” He finally looked at me.
“Because I know how this goes. You’re at the top now. And people like me… we’re great at helping people get there. But not staying.”
“Damon-”
“I’ve been beside powerful people before,” he said. “They always trade loyalty for control.” I stepped closer.
“I’m not asking you to follow me,” I said. “I’m asking you to stand with me.”
His jaw tightened. “There’s not room for both.”
“Then we make room.”
He blinked. “You’re serious?”
“Co-CEO,” I said. “You handle infrastructure, I handle people. You handle deals, I handle vision. No spotlight. Just power. Shared.” He stared at me like I had just broken a rule he didn’t know could be rewritten.
“You know that’ll piss off every man on that board.”
“Good,” I smiled. “Let them choke on it.” He laughed. God, it felt good to hear that sound again. Then he stepped closer.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s build the damn empire.” And this time, when I reached for the crown? I didn’t carry it alone. I wore it. And it finally fit.
