By the morning, the office was in chaos.
My sister's failed frame had left cracks—small, fragile—but visible to everyone.
The board noticed.
Executives whispered in corners.
Even my husband moved cautiously, as if stepping on ice.
Perfect.
I arrived calmly, in a simple black dress, hair tied back, face serene.
"Good morning," I said, as if nothing had happened.
Whispers died immediately.
Eyes followed me.
Some avoided mine entirely.
Because they already knew—I was in control.
The chairman called the meeting to order.
"Madam," he said, voice steady, "the situation with the files has been… enlightening. Can you clarify the events for us?"
I opened my tablet, placing it on the table.
"Certainly," I said softly. "As you've noticed, unauthorized access was attempted. The logs clearly show the source."
I tapped a few buttons.
Emails, timestamps, access records—all aligned perfectly.
"And as you can see," I continued, "the person responsible tried to manipulate evidence to implicate another."
All eyes turned to my sister.
Her face paled.
Her hands clenched.
"Do you… deny this?" I asked sweetly.
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
I let the silence stretch.
"Very well," I said. "Then it's settled. The board will review the logs independently, and appropriate action will be taken."
Whispers flared.
My husband's face darkened.
But I stayed calm, smiling just enough to make them uncomfortable.
After the meeting, my ally called.
"They're scrambling," he said. "Your sister can't explain herself. Your husband is furious. The board is leaning your way."
"Good," I replied. "Let them watch themselves crumble before me."
By evening, the first consequences appeared.
Board members who had tried to manipulate decisions behind the scenes were suddenly under scrutiny.
Internal communications revealed lies, omissions, and collusion.
And my sister's name was at the center of it.
She tried to fight back, but the web she had spun only tightened around her.
I stood by the window, glass of wine in hand, city lights stretching below.
"They never learn," I murmured.
And I didn't just let them stumble.
I guided them.
Every panic. Every misstep.
Every desperate attempt to cover themselves only made the fall inevitable.