The sun hadn't even risen before the world began to unravel.
Phones rang.
Servers crashed.
The media exploded.
And for the first time in decades, the Windsors lost control of the narrative.
Sophia's name trended globally.
Clips of her speech were translated into six languages within hours.
And by 7:00 a.m., Interpol issued preliminary warrants for five names tied directly to the Redwood cover-up.
At the top of the list?
> Johnathan Windsor
Cameron Rhodes
Senator Harold Quinn
Dr. Lydia Meyers
Chief Justice Glen Rowe
Each name was tied to documented corruption.
Each one had buried a part of Sophia's past.
And each one — was now wanted.
---
I watched the live report from James's penthouse safe room — every screen showing a different station, every anchor echoing the same line:
> "This changes everything."
But change doesn't come without consequence.
"Have you seen this?" James said, holding up a tablet.
It was an encrypted message from an unknown source.
But the signature was unmistakable.
JW.
Johnathan Windsor.
The message read:
> You think you've won? You think a ghost's confession erases legacy?
I built this world. And I still own it.
Enjoy your moment, Amelia. It will be your last.
My stomach twisted.
"This isn't over," I whispered.
James nodded grimly. "He won't run. Men like Johnathan don't hide — they retaliate."
---
An hour later, Miles arrived with a bulletproof case tucked under his arm.
Inside were red folders labeled Windsor Legacy Holdings, Black Fund, and a sealed envelope addressed to Sophia Moore.
"Where did this come from?" I asked.
"It was retrieved from an old deposit box in Switzerland — under your mother's maiden name," Miles said. "Richard Hale must've planted it there before disappearing."
James opened the first file — his eyes scanned quickly, then stopped.
"This isn't just about Redwood," he said. "This is about political engineering. He's been installing allies into power positions across the UK and Europe for years."
My blood ran cold. "Why?"
"Because he was building something much bigger," Sophia said, stepping into the room. "A dynasty. One where his name could never be removed from history — not by truth, not by law, not even by time."
She opened the envelope with trembling fingers.
Inside… was a photograph.
My heart nearly stopped.
It was of me.
As a child. In a hospital bed. With two men standing over me.
One was Richard.
The other?
> Johnathan Windsor.
"He held you," Sophia whispered. "He looked into your eyes and promised he'd never let you live long enough to speak."
I swallowed hard, bile rising in my throat.
James gripped my shoulder tightly. "He's obsessed."
"No," I said. "He's afraid."
Sophia met my gaze. "You have something he'll never have, Amelia. A name people believe in now."
---
That night, James and I sat together on the rooftop, silence wrapped between us like a storm on pause.
"You did it," he said gently. "You brought the truth into the light."
"We did it," I corrected.
He looked at me, tired but still so devastatingly steady.
"I'd burn it all again," he said, brushing a thumb along my jaw. "For you."
My eyes stung with tears. "What now?"
"Now?" he said.
"We don't stop."