Amara didn’t break her stride. She moved with a serrated edge, her flat shoes clicking a sharp, impatient rhythm against the polished floor. She didn’t bother to look back as she threw the question over her shoulder; she didn’t have to.
The assistant, a woman who had once worked with her and knew Amara’s daily life, who knew her moods as well as her own, faltered. For one heartbeat, she was a statue, caught in the wake of Amara’s montum. Then, the answer spilled out, reflexive and imdiate, born from a muscle mory of service.
"The boardroom." Of course. Amara didn’t say another word. She turned. And walked. The hallway seed shorter than she rembered. Or maybe it was just the way she moved now. Purposeful. Unstoppable. Julian kept pace beside her. Close. Ready.
Jas and the guards followed. The doors to the boardroom lood ahead. Voices filtered through. Tense. Urgent. Desperate. And then. BANG.
The doors flew open. Silence slamd into the room. Every head turned. Executives froze mid-sentence. Papers still in hand. Screens still lit with numbers that scread losses. At the head of the table. Amira stood.
Six months. Six months since they last faced each other. And yet. It felt like no ti had passed at all.
"We are in the middle of a serious eting, Amara," Amira said, rising to her feet, her voice sharp but strained beneath the surface. "You can’t just walk in here." Amara stepped forward. Slow. asured. "Everyone get out." The words weren’t loud. But they carried.
The room shifted. People looked between the sisters. Uncertain. "This is my company," Amira snapped, her composure cracking just slightly. "My boardroom. I give the orders, not you."
Amara let out a short breath. Almost a laugh. But without humor. "Right," she said. "You still call it a company?" She took another step forward.
Her gaze swept briefly across the room at the anxious faces, the scattered reports, the tension hanging like a warning.
"After running it into the ground in six months?" she continued, her voice calm but cutting. "Impressive. Really. Way to go." Amira’s jaw tightened.
"But I didn’t co here to review your failures," Amara added, her tone dropping slightly. "I ca to talk to you." A beat. Then. "You tell your board to step out now..." Her eyes locked onto Amira’s. Unflinching.
"Or this gets ssy." The room went still. No one moved. Because they could feel it. This wasn’t business anymore. This was personal. Deeply. Dangerously. Personal. Amira held her gaze.
Trying to stand her ground. Trying to maintain control. But sothing in Amara’s expression. That’s calm. That certainty. It unsettled her.
A second passed. Then another. Finally. Amira turned slightly. "Everyone out," she said tightly. Chairs scraped. Papers gathered hastily. No one argued. Within monts. The room emptied. Only a few remained. Amara. Julian. Jas. And the guards.
And Amira. The door closed behind the last person. Silence. Heavy Loaded. Amara didn’t waste a second. "Six months," she said quietly. "That’s how long it took you." Amira crossed her arms.
Defensive. "Say what you ca to say." Amira opened her mouth. Ready to push back. To argue. To twist the narrative like she always did.
But then. Julian moved. Just a step. Nothing dramatic. Nothing loud.
Yet the look he gave her. Cold. Unforgiving. It was enough.
"Julian," Amara said quietly, not even looking at him, "you can leave us." A pause. "I want to speak to Mrs. Vance alone." The na landed. Not Amira. Not Pedro. Not sister. Mrs. Vance. A line drawn. Clean. Final.
Julian held Amara’s gaze for a second. Searching. Making sure. Then he nodded. He turned, motioning for Jas and the guards. The door closed behind them. Silence.
Now it was just the two of them. Amira straightened slightly, forcing her shoulders back, rebuilding the image of control she was already losing.
"Well," she said coolly, "now that we’re alone... what do you want?" Amara didn’t sit. Didn’t relax.
"I ca for one thing." Her voice was calm. Too calm. "I know you’re a chronic liar," she continued, her eyes locked onto Amira’s. "So your words don’t an much to ."
A beat. "But I’m still giving you the courtesy of asking." Amira’s jaw tightened. "You said you didn’t speak to my mother the day she supposedly had a heart attack," Amara went on.
She reached into her bag again, pulling out her phone. Tapped once. Then turned the screen toward her. "The footage you tried so hard to destroy..." she said quietly, "managed to catch you." A pause. "Leaving the mansion that night."
Amira’s expression flickered. Just slightly. "Sa ti window," Amara added. "So tell ..."
She stepped closer. "What did you go there for?" Another step. "What did you talk about?" Silence. "And why did you lie about being ho that night?"
Amira let out a small, disbelieving laugh. "What are you even talking about?" Playing dumb. Of course. Amara’s expression didn’t change. Didn’t crack. "Don’t," she said softly. One word.
Sharp. "Don’t take for a fool." The air shifted. "Sothing happened that night," Amara continued. "And you’re going to tell ." Her voice lowered further. "Or I let the police treat you as a suspect."
That landed. Amira’s eyes narrowed slightly. "I can do that," Amara added, almost casually. "Very easily." She glanced briefly around the room. At the docunts.
The tension. The failing empire. "And considering how you’ve run our father’s company into the ground..." Her gaze returned to Amira.
"A scandal like that?" A faint tilt of her head. "It won’t just hurt you."
"It will finish you." Silence stretched. Heavy. Then.. Amara asked the question. The one that had been sitting in her chest like fire.
"What did you and mother talk about?" she said quietly. A beat. Her eyes didn’t waver. "...Did you kill her?" And just like that. Everything changed. Because this ti. There was no pretending. No softening. No denial of what this really was. This wasn’t a suspicion anymore. This was an accusation.
"Stop...Amara, no." Amira’s voice cracked. Not calculated. Not controlled. Cracked. "I didn’t kill her," she said quickly, shaking her head, panic rising in her chest. "I couldn’t. I..." She swallowed hard.
"Yes... We argued that night," she admitted, her words rushing now. "It was bad. About Leo." A breath. Unsteady.
"But when I left... she was fine," Amira insisted, her voice trembling. "I swear she was fine." Silence.
"I hid it," she added, quieter now. "Because I knew how it would look. Suspicious. Damning." Her eyes lifted to Amara’s. Raw. "But I didn’t kill her." A step forward.
"I love her, Amara." Her voice broke again. "We never agreed on anything... but I would never hurt her."
For a mont. Just a mont. The room held its breath. Amara didn’t speak. Didn’t move. She just looked at her. And in that silence. She did what she had always done best. She read her. Every flicker. Every tremor. Every hesitation. And there it was.
Truth. Not the full story. But not a lie either. Amara knew. Amira wasn’t lying about that. But sothing else. Sothing deeper. Was still missing. And that was worse. Because it ant.
The truth wasn’t simple. "I don’t believe you." The words ca out cold. Flat. Amira flinched like she’d been struck. "And I’ll let the police decide if you’re innocent or not."
Final. Amara reached for her bag. "Amara..." Amira’s voice broke completely now. "I didn’t kill her. I swear I didn’t..." But Amara didn’t stop. Didn’t look back. Didn’t give her the comfort of doubt. Because rcy. Right now. Was not sothing she could afford. The door opened.
Julian and Jas were already there. Waiting. Watching. One look at Amara. And they knew.
Sothing had shifted. They fell into step beside her as she walked out. Through the halls.
Every eye turned. Whispers rose instantly. Staff watched in stunned silence. Trying to piece together what had just happened. Amara didn’t acknowledge any of it.
Her face was calm. But her steps. Sharp. Heavy. Decisive. Behind her. Amira’s quiet sobs echoed faintly from the boardroom. But they didn’t reach her. Not anymore.
Outside. The air hit differently. Cool. Real. Julian walked beside her, close enough to steady her if she needed it. But he didn’t touch her. Not yet. Because he could feel it. The storm inside her. Was far from over. And this. This was only the beginning.
"Stop standing there and get back to work!" Amira’s voice snapped through the hallway, sharp, unraveling. The staff scattered instantly. No one wanted to be caught in the middle of whatever had just happened.
Outside. The car door shut. Silence settled inside. Amara stared ahead for a mont, her thoughts moving faster than she could organize them. Then she turned to Julian. "They argued," she said quietly. "But she didn’t kill her."
Julian didn’t interrupt. "Soone else did," she continued, her voice steady despite everything. "I need you to have the police investigate...quietly."
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