Just like the song said—secretaries really did come and go in a flash. One appeared, dropped off a thick stack of documents, and vanished again. Moira instructed Thea to take them upstairs and read carefully.
Obedient to her mother's orders, Thea carried the hefty binders back to her room.
This was her future foundation, the very root of her survival. She had to study it seriously. Pulling out a notebook, she began recording the names and résumés of the key executives, adding quick notes on their personalities and work styles. Who knew which of them she might be assigned under tomorrow? Better to be prepared.
What? Why only the executives—what if she got sent to some minor department, like security? Impossible. She was the sole heir. There was no way her own mother would make her a guard. This wasn't a return-of-the-mercenary novel; it was a transmigration one!
Carefully analyzing Queen Consolidated's current state, Thea saw that the company had over thirty thousand employees and branches worldwide. Its main business was steel refining and non-ferrous metal mining—controlling 7% of the U.S. market and 4.1% globally. That put it among the major players in the steel industry.
At the same time, the company was heavily diversified, with significant investments in weapons development and biotech research. Some progress had been made, but no clear conversion of research into profit yet—meaning the heavy R&D funding was becoming a financial burden.
Flipping through report after report and comparing them to last year's data, she noticed the company had been throwing massive amounts of capital into real estate. Cash flow, once abundant, was visibly tightening. This wasn't a healthy sign. Cross-referencing with a Star City map, Thea quickly realized all the purchased land was in the slum districts.
That triggered a memory—wasn't this something her "late father," Robert Queen, had asked Moira to do? To prevent Malcolm from using the earthquake device to destroy the Glades, he'd quietly bought up the properties there. What kind of logic was that?
Robert had known Malcolm for years and still hadn't seen that the man had no moral bottom line. Did he really think, If I own all the land, my friend won't blow it up? Please. Malcolm didn't destroy the land—he killed Robert instead. Thea couldn't help rolling her eyes. The notebook Robert left Oliver didn't even list Malcolm; he'd died never realizing his "friend" would stab him in the back. If he'd warned Oliver beforehand, Season 1 could've ended in one episode—Oliver would've just gone "whoosh" from afar and nailed him with an arrow. No need for twenty-three episodes.
Looking at the endless stack of land deeds, Thea's head ached. Six years from now, Malcolm would try to pull a "Whitebeard vs. Marineford" reenactment, shaking the entire Glades to rubble. And all that land? Now owned by them.
Star City truly was cursed. Year one: Malcolm's earthquake machine killed over 500 people—including his own son, Tommy. Year two: Deathstroke brought hundreds of super-soldiers to fight a live-action DOTA match in the streets, rivers of blood everywhere. Year three: Ra's al Ghul launched his "Resident Evil" virus drill. Year four: some magic guy showed up with fifteen thousand nukes as Christmas gifts. In a city like this, trying to make money off real estate was delusional.
Chewing on her pen, Thea sank deeper into despair. The acquisitions hadn't stopped after Robert's death—just in the two weeks since she'd arrived, the company had bought three more plots.
Apparently, Moira was faithfully carrying out her late husband's will. But this path led only one way—straight down. Queen Consolidated would keep dumping money into a bottomless pit for years. She winced at the thought; if she still had certain organs, this would definitely make them hurt.
No wonder Ray Palmer managed to buy Queen Consolidated so easily in Season 3. The company had been bleeding itself dry for nearly eight years—and somehow still stood. That was impressive in its own twisted way. But all that waste came from her future inheritance! For the sake of Oliver not having to mooch off his girlfriends, and for the sake of her not ending up as a security guard with a "promising career," she had to turn things around.
Easier said than done. She had no authority yet—she couldn't just tell people that her "future dad" would one day quake the city into dust. No one would believe her. All she could do was work her way up and change policy once she had power. As for stopping Malcolm's future actions—she'd thought about that too. Maybe she could prevent the first-year crisis, given their relationship. But the second? The third? Too many variables. She wasn't invincible yet. Five years until the story began… she'd just have to take it one step at a time.
…
The next morning, Thea got up early and put on light makeup. Thankfully, the original soul remained dominant—skills like grooming and dressing hadn't vanished. Looking at the clothes laid out, she hesitated. It was her first day at work; she needed to look professional. She picked a beige cropped blazer with a navy pencil skirt that ended just below the knees—short enough to be stylish, long enough to be proper. The look made her seem less girlish and more competent.
She chose black heels under five centimeters, walked a few steps to test them—steady enough. The awkwardness from before had mostly faded. Her original body's instincts were taking over. Satisfied with the mirror's reflection, she nodded. This will do.
Downstairs, Moira was already waiting. She knew her daughter well—Thea's temperament could be called "changeable" if you were generous, "stubborn" if you weren't. The more you told her not to do something, the more determined she'd be to do it.
Moira had braced herself for resistance, even rehearsing how she'd persuade her daughter. But seeing Thea come down calm and composed in a business outfit—no scissors, no Molotovs—she realized Thea was actually cooperating. That alone lifted her spirits.
They got in the car. On the way, Thea kept asking about the company's inner workings—things that wouldn't show up in written reports. Moira grew happier by the minute. What did that mean? It meant her daughter had really read the materials. If she'd asked Oliver, he probably wouldn't even know which direction the company gates faced.
Wanting to make up for how cold she'd been during her recent "performance," Thea was extra warm toward her mother today. By the time they reached the company, Moira was overjoyed. Her two children had made her miserable for twenty years—one constantly in trouble, the other distant and indifferent—but now, finally, it felt like the clouds had parted. Her son might be gone, but her daughter had grown up. That was comfort enough.
In high spirits, Moira looked forward even more to the upcoming "contest of abilities" between their two families. Taking Thea by the hand, she led her through the doors of Queen Consolidated.