Morning light fractures through floor-to-ceiling windows, throwing knife-edged shadows across the mahogany table. Thea Queen stands at the head, one hand resting on the empty CEO's chair. The air smells of expensive aftershave and nervous sweat. Board members fidget with Montblanc pens and untouched glasses of mineral water.
Sanderson, the silver-haired lead director, leans forward, his suit straining at the shoulders. "Let's stop pretending," he says, voice like gravel in a tumbler. "Without Robert's controlling stake, this company needs real leadership. Not sentimental attachments."
Thea doesn't flinch. She's wearing a fitted black blazer worn open over a low-cut satin camisole that catches the light with every movement. High-waisted tailored trousers hug her hips with a subtle sheen, elongating her frame. Her stiletto heels strike the marble floor with measured precision, each step a quiet statement of control. Delicate gold necklaces rest just above the neckline, catching the boardroom's sterile lighting like trophies.
"Since we're being honest," she says, tapping her tablet. The screen lights up with a shareholding breakdown. "Let's discuss what real control looks like."
The numbers glow in the dimmed lights:
PRE-DEATH OWNERSHIP
Robert Queen: 40% (controlling)
Moira Queen: 10%
Oliver Queen: 5%
Thea Queen: 5%
Others: 40%
Sanderson smirks. "Exactly my point. With Robert gone—"
"With my father intestate," Thea interrupts, swiping to a new slide, "his estate splits under Delaware law." The numbers reconfigure:
CURRENT HOLDINGS
Moira Queen: 30% (10% + 20% inheritance)
Oliver Queen: 15% (5% + 10%) - FROZEN
Thea Queen: 15% (5% + 10%) - IN TRUST
Others: 40%
Director Cho, her razor-cut bob swinging, frowns at the screen. "Oliver's shares can't be voted without a death certificate."
"Correct." Thea's nails tap against the table. A French manicure today - deceptively soft. "And my shares are held in trust until I turn eighteen." She pauses. "Which happens to be three weeks before the next shareholder meeting."
Sanderson's pen stills. "Moira controls your voting rights."
Thea smiles. It doesn't reach her eyes. She swipes again. The screen shows a notarized document - TEMPORARY PROXY TRANSFER. "Mother was kind enough to grant me voting authority last week. A birthday present, of sorts."
A murmur ripples through the room. Sanderson's face darkens. "That gives you—"
"Forty-five percent effective control," Thea finishes. "Enough to block any hostile motions." She leans forward, bracing her palms on the table. "But we're not here to talk about blocking. We're here to affirm Walter's leadership."
Sanderson recovers quickly. "Even with your shares, you don't have majority control. The board could—"
"Appoint someone else?" Thea laughs. It's a cold, sharp sound. She taps her tablet. The screen changes to a Bloomberg terminal display - QC stock performance under Walter's interim leadership. "While we've grown twelve percent year-over-year? While we've secured the military contract?" Her voice drops. "While Stagg Industries is circling like vultures?"
Sanderson's jaw tightens. Thea doesn't blink.
Director Kane clears his throat. "Thea makes a compelling case for continuity."
"I'll make it simpler." Thea straightens, adjusting her cuffs. "Vote for Walter, and we maintain stability. Vote against him..." She meets Sanderson's eyes. "And I'll have no choice but to call an extraordinary shareholder meeting the day I turn eighteen. Where I will personally explain to our investors why certain directors have been shorting our stock while negotiating with competitors."
The silence is absolute. Even the air conditioning seems to hold its breath.
Sanderson's pen snaps.
Thea doesn't smile. She simply taps her tablet one final time. The screen displays a single word in bold font: VOTE.
Hands rise - some immediately, others after visible hesitation. Sanderson is last, his nod so slight it's nearly imperceptible.
The doors open. Walter enters to subdued applause. Thea steps away from the CEO's chair, but not before brushing her fingers along its back. A silent claim.
As Walter takes his seat, Thea moves to the window. The city sprawls below, a kingdom in miniature. Her reflection smiles - the first genuine expression she's shown all morning.
Thea sat alone in the dim glow of the bar's neon sign, spinning her untouched whiskey glass between her fingers. The ice had long since melted. She didn't look up when the door opened, didn't react to the footsteps approaching—but she knew.
The booth creaked as Emiko slid in across from her, her leather jacket smelling like rain and something faintly metallic—gun oil. She didn't bother with greetings.
Emiko's fingers tapped once on the table. "You said you wanted to give me justice. And my 'birthright.' Explain."
Thea lifted her gaze. Emiko's eyes were dark, unreadable. "My father cheated on my mother. That's on him." She leaned forward. "But Moira forcing him to abandon you? Erasing you like you never existed? That's what I'm fixing."
Emiko's jaw tightened. "You can't."
"I can." Thea pulled out a folded document, sliding it across the table. "Original shareholder records. Robert listed you as a beneficiary in Queen Consolidated the year before he died. Moira had it scrubbed, but the backups don't lie."
Emiko didn't touch the paper. "I don't want his money."
"It's not about the money." She held Emiko's stare. "It's about your name. Your place. The fact that you exist."
A muscle jumped in Emiko's jaw. The bar's jukebox switched songs—some old rock riff that buzzed through the silence.
Emiko's voice dropped low. "So what's your offer?"
Thea didn't blink. "A seat at the table. Public acknowledgment as Robert Queen's daughter. Your shares reinstated." A pause. "And if you want it... a sister."
Emiko laughed—sharp, humorless. "You think it's that easy?"
"No." She finally took a sip of whiskey, the burn grounding her. "But it's a start."
Emiko studied her for a long moment. Then, slowly, she reached out and took the document.
"We'll see."
Outside, thunder rolled. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed.
Thea smiled.
The document now sat between them like a live wire, Emiko's fingers resting lightly on its edge. The neon glow flickered across her face, catching the tension in her jaw.
Thea softened her voice. "Look, I get it. You don't trust me. You have no reason to." She traced a finger along the rim of her glass. "But if we're going to do this—if you're going to take your place as a Queen—then I'd like to actually know my sister."
Emiko's eyes flicked up, sharp and assessing. "Why? So you can feel better about yourself? So you can check off 'good deed for the year'?"
Thea shook her head, unfazed. "Because I spent my whole life thinking I was alone. Oliver was gone, my parents were... well, my parents. Then I find out I have a sister who's probably more like me than anyone else in this messed up family."
A beat passed. The hum of the bar around them—clinking glasses, murmured conversations—felt suddenly distant.
Emiko's voice was dry. "You might regret that. I don't exactly make good company."
"Try me." Thea grinned, pushing Emiko's untouched glass closer. "Come on, live a little. Unless you're afraid of a little whiskey?"
Emiko's eyes narrowed, but she picked up the glass. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you when you realize how annoying I can be."
"Challenge accepted." Thea leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Let's start easy. Favorite food?"
Emiko blinked. "That's your opening question?"
"What? Food tells you everything about a person. Mine's Indian—the spicier the better. There's this place on 5th that does vindaloo that'll make you cry. In a good way."
Emiko rolled her eyes but answered after a moment's consideration. "Soba. Cold. With extra wasabi."
"Ooh, hardcore." Thea smirked. "Music?"
"Classical. Mainly violin concertos." A pause. "When I'm not working."
Thea's eyes lit up. "Okay, first off—impressive. Second, you have to let me make you a playlist. I know this amazing Japanese violinist who does contemporary covers."
Emiko actually looked intrigued for half a second before schooling her expression. "We'll see."
For the first time, something like a real smile tugged at Emiko's lips—just for a second, gone as quickly as it appeared. "You're insufferable."
"And you're ridiculously stubborn." Thea raised an eyebrow. "Guess we really are sisters."
Emiko shook her head, but the tension in her shoulders had eased noticeably. She took a proper sip of the whiskey this time, her fingers more relaxed around the glass.
"Tell me something real," Emiko said suddenly. "Not the small talk. Why really do this?"
Thea met her gaze steadily. "Because when I look at you, I see the truth about our family. You got erased, I got... a front row seat to all the lies. The perfect Queen family portrait while everything rotted underneath." She leaned forward, her voice dropping. "I spent years watching my parents pretend, and I'm done with pretending. You're my sister. That's the most real thing I've got."
The rain outside intensified, pounding against the windows like a drumroll. Emiko studied Thea for a long moment before lifting her glass slightly.
"We'll see," she said quietly, but there was less edge to it now.
Thea mirrored the gesture, tapping her glass against Emiko's with a soft clink. "To new beginnings. And really terrible family drama."
Against all odds, Emiko's mouth quirked in what might have almost been a smile as she took another sip. Outside, the storm continued to rage, but in the dim glow of the bar, something fragile but hopeful had taken root between them.
"Next time," Emiko said suddenly, "we go to that Indian place. I want to see if you can actually handle the spice you brag about."
Thea's grin could have powered the city lights. "Oh you are so on. But fair warning - I know the owner. He makes special 'mild' versions for tourists, but for me? He brings out the real stuff."
"Then I guess I'll be there to scrape you off the floor when you can't handle it."
"Deal." Thea extended her hand across the table. "Sisters?"
Emiko looked at the offered hand for a long moment before reaching out. Her grip was firm, fingers cool against Thea's. "We'll see." But this time, it almost sounded like a promise.
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**Author's Note:**
First and foremost, I owe you all a massive apology for the long wait between chapters. Life decided to hit me with a whirlwind of events—I traveled to India to visit relatives (which was amazing but chaotic), celebrated my birthday (another year older, hopefully wiser), and then immediately jumped into my high school graduation ceremony (cue the caps and gowns). It's been a wild ride, and while I wouldn't trade any of those experiences, I'm sorry this update took so long.
But hey, we're back now! And what better way to return than with Thea and Emiko finally starting to bridge that gap between them? This chapter was a joy to write—full of tension, quiet revelations, and just a hint of sisterly bonding (with a side of spicy food threats).
Thank you all for your patience and for sticking with this story. Your support means the world, and I promise the next update won't take nearly as long. Now, let's get back to the Queen family drama—because you know it's only going to get messier from here.