The Next Day*
I was lounging in my penthouse when the phone rang. I picked it up without much interest.
"Speak," I said.
"It's done, Queen," a female voice reported.
"Good job, sister," I replied and ended the call.
I leaned back with a sigh. "All this killing is making me hungry."
The phone rang again. I picked up.
"Speak."
"Queen… we have a problem."
"I'm on my way."
I rose, dressed with sharp precision, and left.
---
*At The Royals Company*
"She's almost here!" someone shouted.
"Make sure everything is perfect—you know how she gets."
The office erupted into controlled chaos. Staff scurried like sparks from a flame, urgency rising like smoke. Then, the unmistakable purr of a Rolls-Royce engine echoed outside.
Tension thickened.
Everyone knew: one mistake meant dismissal. Some who disappointed her were never seen again. No one dared to take that chance.
The glass doors opened.
She entered.
Her presence shifted the air—commanding, electric. Clad in an immaculate Chanel suit that whispered wealth and danger, adorned with subtle but exquisite diamonds, and black heels that echoed with power at every step, she moved like a storm dressed in elegance.
One by one, the staff rose. Heads bowed.
"Welcome, Queen," they said in unison.
Yes… I am the Queen.
They call me Queen not just because I rule, but because I'm the husband of women.
You really think all this money came from publishing?
Don't be naive. The company is just my cover.
I walked straight into my office. Mona served me a glass of wine.
"It's too early, Mona. I said coffee."
Flustered, she tried to swap the glasses, but her hands fumbled—wine spilled across my pristine desk.
She dropped to her knees, trembling. "I'm so sorry, Queen. Please, I didn't mean—"
I didn't even look at her.
"Zola," I said calmly, turning to my assistant, "get rid of this one. She's clumsy."
"Yes, Queen," Zola replied.
Mona's fate was sealed before she stood back up.
*Ema stormed into Kira's office.*
"This is bad, Kira. *Ben's Books* is still holding top 3 on the charts. We're stuck at number 6!"
Kira didn't flinch. "Calm down, Ema. We have a plan."
Ema sighed and softened. "How are you feeling?"
Kira raised an eyebrow. "Why the sudden interest in my feelings?"
"It's the publishers' gala next weekend," Ema said. "You'll be face-to-face with Ben. With *her.* They might even bring your son. Are you sure you can handle that? Can you control the rage you still carry?"
Her words cut deep, but Kira could tell it came from concern, not judgment. She stood and walked to the window, her voice calm, measured.
"Ema, do you know what I've survived? A little grudge won't break me — it fuels me. I won't ruin my plans. If anything, seeing them will remind me why I started this war. Hell would be a safer option than what I've prepared for them. When I'm done, they'll wish they were never born."
Ema smirked. "That's why they call you *the Queen* — husband to women, enemy of tyrants."
"But be careful," she added. "There's a new commissioner in town. I hear he's not so easy to buy."
Kira turned, a wicked smile curling on her lips. "Then he better not get in my way."
--
*"She said nothing more, only rose gracefully, adjusted her suit with poise, and walked out. Every heel click echoed like a verdict. She didn't need to look back — power never does."*