Chapter 2

The fourteen-hour flight from Singapore to San Francisco was a blur of controlled rage. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat, I just stared out the window at the endless expanse of clouds, my mind a churning vortex of betrayal and vengeance. Every image from the live stream played on a loop: Tiffany in Lily' s dress, Sarah at the microphone, Mark' s hollow excuses, and Lily, my precious Lily, picking up broken glass. The flight attendants gave me a wide berth, sensing the storm brewing within me.

The moment the plane touched down at SFO, I was the first one off. I bypassed customs with my Global Entry, moving with a speed and purpose that made people get out of my way. I didn't bother with luggage, I only had my carry-on. Everything I needed was waiting for me.

I got into a taxi and gave the driver the address to the Innovate Solutions headquarters downtown, the glass tower that was a testament to my life's work. My company. My legacy.

As the taxi pulled up to the gleaming entrance, a cold knot of apprehension tightened in my stomach. The lobby looked different. The familiar, friendly faces of the security team I had hired were gone. In their place stood two large, unfamiliar men in sharp new uniforms.

I pushed through the revolving doors, my heels clicking purposefully on the marble floor. One of the new guards immediately stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

"Can I help you, ma' am?" he asked, his tone professional but dismissive.

"I' m here to see Mark Peterson," I said, my voice steady. "I' m Chloe Davis."

He looked at me with a blank expression, then checked a list on a tablet he was holding. "I don' t have a Chloe Davis on the visitor list. Do you have an appointment?"

A humorless laugh escaped my lips. "An appointment? I don' t need an appointment. I own this building. I own this company. Now get out of my way."

The guard' s expression hardened. "Ma' am, I' m going to have to ask you to calm down. Our CEO is Ms. Sarah Miller, and she' s in a meeting with Mr. Peterson. They've left strict instructions not to be disturbed."

Sarah Miller. The name was like poison on his tongue. So the charade from the party was real. They were truly trying to steal everything.

"I am the founder and majority shareholder of this company," I said, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. "You are on my property, and you are being paid with my money. I' m going to give you one last chance to step aside."

The guard exchanged a look with his partner. He was starting to look uncertain, but his orders were clear. "Ma' am, if you don' t leave the premises, we' ll have to call the police."

"Go ahead," I dared him.

Just then, a familiar voice cut through the tension. "Chloe? Is that really you?"

I turned to see David Chen, my lead engineer and one of my very first hires, standing by the elevators. His face was a mixture of shock and relief. He was one of the few people I trusted implicitly.

"David," I said, the relief evident in my own voice.

He rushed over, ignoring the bewildered guards. "We thought… Mark told everyone you weren' t coming back. That you' d stepped down."

"Mark lied," I said simply. "I need to get to my office. Now."

David nodded, his jaw set. He looked at the guards. "She' s with me. She has Level Ten clearance." He swiped his own master keycard at a side entrance, and a gate clicked open. The guards looked at each other, confused, but didn' t dare to challenge the company' s top engineer.

"Thank you, David," I said as we walked swiftly towards the executive elevators.

"What' s going on, Chloe?" he asked, his voice low. "This place has been a nightmare for the past few months. This Sarah woman came in and started changing everything. Firing loyal staff, promoting her own people."

"I' m here to fix it," I promised. "Where are they?"

"Your office," he said, his expression grim. "They' ve been using your office."

The elevator ride to the top floor was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. When the doors opened, I strode out, my steps echoing in the hushed corridor. The plaque on the door that used to say "Chloe Davis, Founder & CEO" now read "Sarah Miller, Co-CEO."

I didn' t knock.

I shoved the heavy oak door open and walked in.

The scene that greeted me stopped me in my tracks. It was my office, my custom-built desk, my view of the San Francisco Bay. But my husband, Mark, was standing behind the desk, his arms wrapped around Sarah Miller. They were locked in a passionate kiss, oblivious to my presence. Sarah was leaning back against my desk, her hands tangled in Mark' s hair, a triumphant smirk on her face even as they kissed.

The air crackled. The world seemed to slow down. The sound of my own breathing was loud in my ears.

They broke apart, startled by the sound of the door swinging shut behind me. Mark' s eyes widened in pure, unadulterated shock. Sarah' s expression shifted from triumph to a strange mix of fear and defiance.

"Chloe," Mark stammered, his face draining of all color. He pushed Sarah away from him, a pathetic, reflexive gesture that was far too late.

"Hello, Mark," I said, my voice deceptively calm. I let my eyes drift from his terrified face to the woman standing beside him, the woman who had put on a show for the world while my daughter was being humiliated. "And you must be Sarah."

The confrontation had begun.