Chapter 143: Power Shift

Chapter 143: Power Shift
Chapter 143: Power Shift

ANNA SERRANO

I stood in front of my full-length mirror, meticulously checking every detail of my outfit with the critical eye of someone who understood that appearance was armor, that presentation was power.

The reflection staring back at me was exactly what I wanted to project: professional, formidable, untouchable.

I wore a crisp blue pantsuit, the jacket tailored perfectly to my frame, accentuating my shoulders and waist, the matching trousers falling in clean lines that spoke of expensive fabric and expert tailoring. Underneath, a pristine white shirt provided contrast, the collar sharp and perfectly pressed.

I'd styled my hair in loose waves, letting them fall on both sides of my face to soften what might otherwise be too severe a look. The waves caught the light as I turned my head, adding movement and femininity to the otherwise commanding outfit.

But it was the makeup that really completed the transformation. I'd applied black eyeliner with precision, creating a dramatic cat-eye that made my gaze sharp and intense. The smoky effect gave my eyes a dangerous look—the look of someone who wasn't to be trifled with, someone who could destroy you with a word and enjoy doing it.

I smiled at my reflection, genuinely pleased with what I saw. I looked chic and powerful and completely in control. I looked like someone who was winning.

This was Anna Serrano—fashion mogul, business woman, force to be reckoned with.

I picked up my coordinating handbag—expensive leather in a shade that perfectly matched the blue of my suit—and slipped my feet into black heels that added three inches to my height and made a satisfying click against the marble floor when I walked.

I stepped out of my bedroom feeling like I was wearing battle armor, ready to face whatever the day might bring.

I hadn't actually planned to go into the office today. I'd originally intended to work from home, to handle things remotely while I processed everything that had happened over the past few days.

But plans changed. And sometimes you needed to be physically present to send the right message, to show strength, to remind people exactly who they were dealing with.

My company had already released an official statement yesterday, carefully worded, legally reviewed, absolutely definitive. The statement declared the rumors circulating online to be completely false, clarifying that I had no relationship whatsoever with Abel Donovan and had never been in any romantic or marital relationship with Abel Donovan.

Never. That was the key word. We were rewriting history, erasing our marriage from the official record, making it as though those years had never existed.

Even though Abel had refused to help me, had mocked me and dismissed me and hung up on me with cruel laughter—I simply didn't care anymore. He hadn't helped, wouldn't help, and I'd moved forward without him anyway.

I didn't need Abel Donovan for anything. Not his cooperation, not his statement, not his validation. I could handle this myself, and I'd proven it.

Now I would be doing a live video interview later this morning, speaking directly to the public, personally disclaiming the rumors with the full authority of my position and the Serrano name behind me. That's why I was going to the Serrano company headquarters today rather than working from home.

Live video required the right setting, the right lighting, the right impression. And nothing said "legitimate business leader" quite like the executive offices of one of the city's most powerful companies.

I was actually looking forward to it. Looking forward to controlling the narrative, to presenting my version of events to the world, to watching people believe me because I had credibility and resources and an image that contradicted the trashy rumors being spread.

I got into my car—a sleek luxury vehicle that was both practical and status-symbol—and drove toward the city center where the Serrano company tower dominated the skyline.

As I drove, I couldn't help but smile at how everything was unfolding.

The Serrano company had cut all ties and business relationships with Donovan Industries. Every single contract, every collaboration, every partnership—terminated. Effective immediately.

My mother had approved the decision without hesitation, without even asking for detailed justification. She'd simply trusted my judgment, signed off on the terminations, and let me handle it however I saw fit.

Alexander had been equally supportive, understanding that sometimes business decisions were also personal decisions, that the two couldn't always be completely separated.

They trusted me. Completely. And that trust gave me the freedom to act.

I knew—intellectually, objectively—that I was doing this purely based on revenge. This wasn't a sound business decision made after careful analysis of profit margins and market conditions. This was personal, vindictive, designed to hurt Abel in the way that would wound him most: his pride, his company, his public image.

But here was the thing: whether we collaborated with Donovan Industries or not didn't really benefit the Serrano company all that much. We were fine without them. We had dozens of other partners, hundreds of other opportunities. Donovan Industries was a relatively small fish in our very large pond.

But for them? For Abel's company? The Serrano partnership had been crucial. We'd been their largest investor, their most prestigious collaborator, the name that gave them legitimacy and attracted other partners.

Without us, they were in serious trouble.

So yes, I cut them off. Just like that. Not looking back. Don't care about the consequences for them. Won't budge no matter how many calls Abel makes, no matter how desperate he becomes.

The thought made my smile widen as I pulled into the underground parking garage of the Serrano building.

I parked in my designated spot—close to the VIP elevator, marked with my name, one of the many small perks of being family to the Serranos—and took a moment to check my appearance one more time in the rearview mirror.

Perfect. I looked absolutely perfect.

I stepped out of the car and made my way to the VIP elevator, my heels clicking authoritatively against the concrete floor of the garage. The sound echoed in the enclosed space, announcing my presence, my confidence, my power.

The elevator took me directly to the top floor, where my office was located alongside Mother Serrano's and Alexander's.

When the doors opened, I stepped out into the elegantly appointed hallway and was immediately greeted by my employees.

"Good morning, Mrs. Serrano!"

"Good morning, ma'am!"

"You look beautiful today, Mrs. Serrano!"

I smiled at each greeting, nodded acknowledgments, felt genuinely pleased by the deference and respect in their voices and expressions. They weren't just being polite—they genuinely seemed happy to see me, energized by my presence.

I was feeling so great and happy today and I didn't entirely know why. Maybe it was the satisfaction of taking action rather than passively accepting attacks. Maybe it was the anticipation of the live interview where I'd control the narrative. Maybe it was simply the pleasure of knowing that Abel was probably panicking right now, watching his company's stock price plummet, fielding angry calls from investors and partners.

Whatever the reason, I felt lighter than I had in days. Almost giddy.

I entered my office—a spacious corner suite with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a spectacular view of the city—with my secretary following close behind me, her tablet already in hand, her expression professional and efficient.

I sat down in my leather executive chair, and she immediately placed a perfectly prepared cup of coffee on my desk—exactly the right temperature, exactly the right amount of cream and sugar, served in my favorite cup.

"Thank you!" I exclaimed, the words coming out more enthusiastically than I'd intended, a genuine grin spreading across my face.

My secretary's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she smiled back at me, clearly taken aback by my unusually enthusiastic demeanor. I was normally more reserved, more controlled, more carefully measured in my expressions.

But today, I felt like celebrating. Like letting some of that satisfaction show.

"Update on the statement we released yesterday?" I asked, picking up the coffee cup and taking a sip. It was perfect, of course. Everything in my life right now felt perfect.

"Oh, about that!" My secretary opened her tablet and scrolled through the information stored there. "Our statement regarding the rumors was received well by the business community. Most people seem to accept it at face value, especially given the Serrano family's reputation."

She glanced up at me to make sure I was following.

"You'll be doing a live video interview around mid-morning to reinforce the claim directly to the public," she continued. "It's been scheduled for eleven o'clock. The media crew and all the necessary equipment will be set up in the conference room before noon. We've already tested the lighting and sound quality."

I nodded, mentally noting the timeline and making sure I'd have enough time to review my talking points and prepare for potential questions.

"And the termination of our support for Donovan Industries has been officially released as well," my secretary added, her tone becoming slightly more cautious. "We've cut all ties with them, pulled out of every joint project, and left them... well, let's just say they're not in a good position."

She made a clicking sound with her tongue, clearly aware of just how devastating our withdrawal had been.

"They're shocked," she said carefully, "and currently processing the implications. Their stock dropped fifteen percent in the first hour after our announcement went public."

I smiled, taking another sip of coffee to hide just how satisfied that information made me feel. "They'll be fine," I said, the words completely insincere and both of us knowing it. "I'm sure they'll figure something out."