Chapter 1

At the annual company gala, my husband transferred a nine-million-dollar bonus to his mistress in front of more than 200 people.

I said, "Go ahead and make the transfer. Starting tomorrow, BrightPath Group will no longer belong to the Grant family."

The entire room burst into laughter. My mother-in-law pointed at my face and cursed me out, while even the intern serving drinks was secretly snickering.

Three minutes later, the door was pushed open.

Six men in black suits walked in. The man leading them bent down and called out to me, "Ms. Winters."

In an instant, not a single person in the room could laugh anymore.

*****

"This year's performance is the best since BrightPath Group was founded ten years ago," Andrew said.

He stood at the head of the table, his suit buttoned up perfectly, clutching a report with a gold-embossed cover.

"Especially the marketing department. Contract value is up sixty percent year-over-year."

He paused.

Every eye in the room snapped to his right.

Sophia Monroe dipped her head, casually tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and flashed a smile that was just the right mix of charm and professionalism.

"That's all thanks to Mr. Grant's guidance," she said.

Andrew nodded and pulled out a sheet of paper from the folder.

He announced, "The board has decided to give Ms. Monroe this year's Special Contribution Award, nine million dollars, after tax."

Someone sucked in a sharp breath.

Nine million dollars. The number dropped into the room like a stone sinking in a silent lake.

A few of the old shareholders shot each other looks, lips pressed tight, but nobody said a word.

Andrew owned 51% of the company. When he spoke, it was a done deal.

Sophia stood up and raised her glass. "Thank you, Mr. Grant, for your trust, and thank you all for your kindness," she said.

As she spoke, her eyes glided over the rim of her glass, coming to rest lightly at the far end of the table.

That was my seat, Laura Winters.

I was wearing a knit cardigan that had been washed so many times it was practically threadbare, with a glass of water in front of me. I hadn't even glanced at the stack of papers in front of me the whole time.

"That's not how it's done," I said. My voice wasn't loud, but the laughter in the conference room stopped cold.

Andrew looked up at me, his brows furrowed. "What did you just say?"

I repeated, "I said that's not how things work. A special bonus changes the pay structure.

"It has to go through the compensation committee and get a vote from all the shareholders. You can't just make the call by yourself."

A quick laugh came from the left.

CEO Henry Carson pushed up his glasses and leaned back in his chair.

He said, "Mrs. Grant, you might not be familiar with our company policies. As the controlling shareholder, Mr. Grant has ultimate authority over any special expenses under 50 million dollars. It's all there in Article 16, plain as day."

I replied, "That's for operating expenses. Bonuses are paid from the payroll, not from operating costs."

Henry's hand froze mid-air for a split second.

Andrew set his pen down, the tip tapping sharply against the table. "Laura, this isn't your concern," he said.

I said, "I'm just reminding you that money won't be transferred."

He laughed. "Can't be transferred?"

I knew that laugh all too well. He always used it when he thought I was being ridiculous.

Andrew said, "I'm the chairman of BrightPath Group. My signature makes it official. Who are you?"

He paused, giving me a quick once-over. "You're a figurehead director, making 2,700 dollars a month, without even your own office. What makes you think you can stop me?"

A few executives pretended to scroll through their phones, shoulders shaking as they tried not to laugh.

Someone in the corner muttered, "Is Mrs. Grant totally clueless or what?"

Sophia sat back down, swirling her wine. She gave me a slow, amused smile.

I didn't look at her and said, "I'll say this one last time. If you hit that confirm button, BrightPath Group won't have your name on it tomorrow."

For two seconds, the room went dead silent.

Then the whole place erupted.

Laughter burst out from every corner. Some people were slapping the table. Others were coughing from laughing so hard.

Henry was laughing so hard his glasses went crooked. "Mrs. Grant, are you talking about that tiny bit of stock you have?

"Wasn't that just for show, courtesy of Mr. Grant back in the day? Barely three percent, if that. Who do you think you're fooling with this talk about pulling out?"

"You can't even come up with nine thousand dollars, let alone nine million!"

I couldn't tell who said it. The voice was quiet, but I caught every word.

Andrew shook his head with a laugh, like he was watching a kid who didn't get it.

"Laura, I know you want to look good, but don't make a scene here," he said.

He turned around and picked up his tablet.

The transfer screen was already open.

Recipient: Sophia Monroe.

Amount: 9,000,000.00.

Note: Annual Special Contribution Award.

Andrew turned the screen toward me.

He said, "The password's in. Just one tap and it's done. Is there anything you can do besides sitting here and saying stuff nobody gives a damn about?"

I looked at him. "You really going to do it?"

"Watch closely," he said.

He pressed it. The fingerprint scanner flashed green.

The screen changed: [Transfer in progress.]

Sophia raised her glass. "Thanks, Mr. Grant."

"You earned it," Andrew said with a smile.

Then he turned his head, locking eyes with me, waiting to see what I'd do next.

I didn't let him down. I didn't even flinch.

I just picked up my phone and checked the time. It was 19:41:17.

Then I set my phone face down on the table.

"Three minutes," I said.

"Three minutes for what?" Andrew asked.

"Large transfers take about three minutes to process. You can still cancel it before it's done."

Andrew waved me off, clearly annoyed. "I'm not going to cancel it."

"I know. That's why I'm waiting three minutes."

They probably thought I was talking nonsense.

Andrew didn't even bother with me. He turned to Sophia and started chatting about next week's chamber of commerce dinner.

The others immediately crowded around them.

"Ms. Monroe, you're really something at such a young age!"

"Looks like half of BrightPath Group's future is in your hands now!"

"Nine million dollars? I wouldn't even dare to dream of that in my whole life!"

Glasses clinked, and laughter piled on top of laughter.

Not a single person spared me a glance. I sat there, like I was just another piece of furniture in the conference room.

My phone lay on the table, screen dark.

One minute passed.

Henry sauntered over with his wine glass, a lingering smirk still plastered on his face.

He said, "Mrs. Grant, no need to make things so hard for yourself. Come on, have a drink. After all, you still have a director's seat. Might as well keep up appearances, right?"

I didn't move.

Two minutes passed.

Andrew and Sophia clinked their glasses, the red wine swirling and catching the light.

"Cheers to a successful partnership," Andrew said.

"Cheers," Sophia replied.

Two minutes and thirty seconds.

Sophia's phone buzzed. She glanced down, then looked up, her voice a notch higher with excitement. "It's here! Mr. Grant, the money's in!"

The bank notification popped up on her screen, the amount right there for everyone to see. [9,000,000.00 dollars received.]

She held up her phone, spinning it around so everyone could see.

"It's really here!"

"Congratulations!"

"We have to celebrate tonight!"

The cheers nearly blew the roof off.

Andrew looked at me, looking smug, like he'd already won. He was waiting for me to crack.

I stood up. The chair legs scraped across the floor with a sharp, abrupt sound.

The chatter died down instantly.

"Had your fun?" I said.

I looked around, waiting for a response. No one said a word.

"So, the money's in. Feeling good?" I asked again.

Sophia put her phone away, her smile still lingering. "Mrs. Grant, business is about skill, not status. If you can't handle that—"

She never finished her sentence because the door rang.

This wasn't a gentle knock. Someone shoved it from outside. The door slammed into the wall so hard that the whole room shook.

Six men stood in the doorway. They were in black suits, white shirts, and dark ties, each one standing ramrod straight.

The leader looked to be in his early fifties, hair perfectly trimmed, holding a black briefcase.

Two young men flanked him like iron pillars, one on each side.

Behind them, three men in bank uniforms, their badges glinting under the lights.

The whole room went dead silent, like someone had just pulled the plug.

Andrew's face darkened. "Who are you? Who let you in?"

The leader didn't even spare him a glance. His gaze swept across the room, finally settling on me.

He strode straight toward me. His leather shoes echoed against the floor, step by step. It was the only sound left in the hall.

He stopped right in front of me and bowed low. He said, "Ms. Winters."

Everyone in the room was stunned by his action.

Before the door could even close, another person walked in.

It was Helen Grant, my mother-in-law.

She was wearing a dark green dress. The moment she stepped inside and saw the six men in black suits, she paused for a second, but quickly kept moving.