CHAPTER SIX:
"Ma'am—your spa appointment—"
"Cancel it," Nicole said to the new maid she hired. smoothing the cuffs of her white blazer. "And tell the driver to take me to Harrington & Burke."
The law firm.
---
The Blake family lawyer, Mr. Thatcher, was old, sharp, and too smart to waste words. When Nicole stepped into his office, he looked up from his desk and studied her. "You look like your father today," he muttered. "That's a compliment... and a warning."
"I need the clause," she said simply. "The one he added. In case of betrayal."He didn't ask who betrayed her because didn't need to in this obvious state.
He opened a private drawer, withdrew a sealed envelope from the firm's archive, and set it gently on the desk.
Her father's handwriting stretched across the front:
Use only when they mistake you for something fragile.She opened it.
Inside: a clause granting Nicole full legal authority to reclaim Blake Industries in the event of spousal or corporate betrayal—if she had verifiable evidence.
She folded it with care, lips twitching—not from humor but recognition.They thought they could bury her in elegance. But she'd always known how to turn funerals into coronations.
She didn't tell Camille...not yet.
Camille would panic. Camille would throw things.
Nicole didn't need panic right now.
She needed precision control and stillness. So she began with her wardrobe.
The soft florals disappeared.
In came structure. Deep tones. Razor-sharp tailoring, gold earrings shaped like daggers. Lips painted bold, eyes left bare.
People whispered when she walked in, She entered rooms like she still owned them. Because soon, she would again.
---
Her first call was the most dangerous.
Carmen Ainsley, a former rival. Once publicly defeated by Nicole in a hostile boardroom takeover.
Carmen had every reason to hate her. But hate was a currency. And loyalty was cheap. Carmen answered the phone with a bite. "Why are you calling me?"
"I need someone brilliant and vindictive to help me unmake a man," Nicole said. "I figured you'd enjoy that."
A pause, then laughter."I should let you drown, Blake."
"You could," Nicole said smoothly. "But where's the fun in that—when you could help me burn the whole boat instead?"
"Send the files. ...
Let's play."
---
Julian noticed the change.
He came home late. The house was spotless, quiet. Nicole sat in the reading lounge, flipping through a magazine in a navy silk robe that molded to her like second skin. Legs crossed and eyes distant.
He leaned against the doorframe. "You look elegant tonight." She looked up and smiled
"Do I?" she said. "I wasn't trying." Something flickered in his eyes. Recognition? Caution? He crossed the room, leaned in to kiss her cheek and she let him but her eyes didn't soften.
"You've been quiet lately," he said.
"I've had a lot on my mind."
He smiled and walked away like it didn't bother him..but it did.
---
Each morning after he left, she opened her laptop. She reached out to her old publicist. To her father's retired CFO. To the assistant who left Blake Industries after a silent severance.
She didn't ask for favors. She offered opportunities.People respected power,but they returned to their legacy.
In two weeks, Nicole had six quiet allies.In three weeks, she'd have ten. ---
Camille found her in the garden.
"You're dressing like you're going to war," she said.Nicole looked up from the roses, eyes calm. "War is such a strong word."
"You haven't cried," Camille said. "Haven't screamed. You didn't even throw your wine glass like last time."
"You always feel things out loud."
Nicole stood, wiping her gloves clean,her voice was soft and precise.
"I'm not still, Camille.
I'm being quiet and it's different."
She kissed her sister's cheek and walked back inside. Camille didn't move. She just stared after her.
---
Blake Industries hadn't changed.
Same polished concrete lobby. Same orchid by the front desk. Same mirrored elevator walls.
But when Nicole stepped onto the penthouse floor, the air shifted. Like the throne had been left cold too long.
Like the legacy was waiting to be reclaimed.
She walked through the hallway—heels gliding over the rug she had chosen four years ago. She paused by the corner office.
It was her office.
The one they stripped from her like she was some intern on a trial run.
She stepped inside and sat in the chair. Leaned back. Moments later, the new CEO walked in. Stumbled to a stop.
"N-Nicole," he stammered. "I didn't expect—uh—"
She turned, and smiled
"Don't worry," she said. "I'm just visiting." Her gaze drifted across the skyline. Then back to him.
"For now''