After leaving the hospital, I made a promise to myself:
*The only way to beat the rich… is to become richer.*
I published my books.
And I joined *Ben's rivals*.
Ben's Book—that's the name of my husband's precious company. The same man who ruined my life.
Turns out, a lot of people hated Ben.
So when producers noticed my writing, I used my network.
I had been Ben's wife for a decade—I knew the industry, the players, the power brokers.
I didn't just write.
*I built.*
I became a producer.
Founded my own company: *Royal Books.*
I used a pen name—*Royal*. No one knew it was me.
We weren't as big as Ben's Book… *yet*.
But I made a vow—to free the world of rapists, in honor of my daughter.
And with *Mia* and *Ema*—my twisted sisters—we became a storm.
Every predator that crossed our path?
*Eliminated.*
***
I rushed into the conference room.
"You're late. Again," *Ema* snapped.
"Come on, I'm sorry, okay? Traffic."
"We all know you're lying," *Mia* said without looking up from her tablet.
"Where is everyone?" I asked.
"They left an hour ago," Mia replied flatly
"It won't happen again," I said, pulling off my coat.
"Sure it won't," Ema muttered.
I smiled. "Spa day. On me."
"We don't have time for that," Mia cut in.
"She's right," Ema added. "Ben's Book ratings are through the roof. If we want to beat them, we have to be ready."
"The BEPA—Best Publishers Award—is in nine months," Mia said, standing now. "It's time to get pregnant with ideas."
"Find new writers. Discover hidden talent. Birth excellence," Ema chimed in. "No distractions."
"We need a plan, Kira," Mia said, looking me dead in the eye.
"I've got one," I replied, confident.
"I'm working on a story called *The Hive*.
It's going to be Ben's Book's worst nightmare."
"We should start scouting new voices too," I added. "Fresh stories. Authentic pain. It's the future."
"But first," I said, standing, "we need to handle something."
I pulled a folder from my bag.
"New target. The court let him go—lack of evidence, of course."
Mia's eyes darkened.
Ema cracked her knuckles.
"Tonight then?" Ema asked.
"*Tonight, at King's Bar,*" I said.
"And this time, we don't miss."
At the kings bar
Toby tipped the last of his beer down his throat, the glass clinking as he set it on the table.
He leaned back with a satisfied grin. "Victory tastes sweet."
"Congratulations, bro. We won!" Noble raised his bottle with a cheer.
But then he leaned in, lowering his voice. "But real talk—what did you even see in that six-year-old that made you… you know… do what you did?"
Toby shrugged, smirking. "Bro, she seduced me. Women will be women—age or size doesn't change that."
They both burst into laughter.
"You're sick," Noble said, half-laughing, half-shocked.
That's when she appeared.
A woman—slim, poised, masked—stepped up to their table.
"Hey, boys," she said with a soft, sultry tone. "Mind if I join you?"
"Not at all," Toby said, eyes scanning her up and down.
"What's your name, pretty?" Noble asked, clearly intrigued.
She smiled beneath the mask. "*Death*, baby boy."