Chapter 163 Epilogue 5: The Last Two.

Chapter 163 Epilogue 5: The Last Two.
Epilogue 5: The Last Two.

Lawrence Clayborne sat alone on a weathered park bench, his fingers trembling as he lit a cigarette. The lighter clicked twice before the flame finally caught.

He drew in a shaky breath and exhaled toward the cloudless sky.

He still wasn't sure why he'd called Qiara.

Part of him already knew how this would end.

Still...

He had to try.

His gaze wandered across the park. Families gathered around barbecue grills. Couples laughed as they walked hand-in-hand along winding pathways. Children chased one another through open fields without a care in the world.

Peace.

Simple, ordinary peace.

Something he'd spent years chasing and somehow managed to destroy every time it came close.

His stomach twisted.

When did everything fall apart?

When did I lose them?

What would have happened if I'd just—

"Lawrence."

The sound of her voice cut through his thoughts.

Lawrence looked up.

His chest immediately tightened.

Qiara stood a few feet away.

Julius Pierre stood beside her.

For a brief moment, disappointment gave way to something darker.

She hadn't come alone.

She didn't trust him enough to be alone with him.

"Qiara," he said stiffly.

His eyes shifted to Julius.

"I'm glad you decided to meet me."

A pause.

"Though I wasn't aware there would be an audience."

Julius let out a humorless laugh.

"Did you really think I'd allow my fiancée to be alone with you?"

Lawrence's jaw clenched.

"I'm her father."

The words came out harsher than intended.

Julius' expression didn't change.

"Father?"

He shook his head.

"You're joking, right?"

Silence.

"You've never been a father to her."

The words landed like blows.

"You're a liar. A thief. An abuser. That's all you've ever been."

Lawrence felt his face pale.

Julius stepped forward slightly.

"The only reason you're still standing here is because Qiara deserves peace."

For the first time, Lawrence flinched.

Not because Julius raised his voice.

But because he didn't.

Every word sounded absolute.

Every word sounded true.

Julius folded his arms.

"Now Qiara agreed to hear whatever nonsense you dragged us out here for."

His eyes hardened.

"So talk."

Lawrence glanced toward Qiara.

Some small, pathetic part of him hoped she'd tell Julius to stop.

Defend him.

Say something.

Instead, she simply stood beside her fiancé.

Calm.

Comfortable.

Certain.

The look she gave Julius carried quiet admiration.

And in that instant Lawrence knew.

He'd already lost.

"Fine."

He swallowed.

"I'll keep this brief."

He gestured weakly to the bench.

"Please, have a seat—"

"I'll stand."

Qiara's voice was flat.

"What do you want, Lawrence?"

Not Dad.

Not Father.

Lawrence.

The cigarette suddenly tasted bitter.

He dropped it and crushed it beneath his shoe.

"I assume you've heard about ICOH."

Qiara didn't respond.

"The board voted Christian in as CEO."

His voice trembled.

"And now he plans on selling the company."

Still no reaction.

Lawrence's heartbeat quickened.

"You knew."

"Yes."

The single word nearly deflated him.

"And?" Qiara asked. "What does that have to do with me?"

Lawrence hesitated.

He'd rehearsed this speech a dozen times.

Now it sounded ridiculous even to him.

"It's our family's legacy."

Qiara's expression remained unchanged.

"No."

The response was immediate.

"That's your legacy."

Lawrence pushed forward anyway.

"Qiara, I know you've become close with Christian lately."

The words tasted sour.

"I was hoping you could talk to him."

She stared.

"Talk to him about what?"

His desperation finally broke through.

"Convince him not to sell."

A pause.

Then—

"Convince him to keep it in the family."

Qiara simply looked at him.

The silence stretched.

Long enough for him to realize she'd already figured out what he truly meant.

"You want him to give it back to you."

Lawrence's eyes dropped.

"...Yes."

Qiara actually laughed.

Not loudly.

Not cruelly.

Just disbelieving.

"You're serious."

"Of course I'm serious!"

His voice rose.

"That's two hundred years of Clayborne history!"

His hands trembled.

"Generations built that company!"

"And you destroyed it."

The words stopped him cold.

Qiara took a step closer.

"Don't stand here and talk to me about history."

Her voice lowered.

"Don't talk to me about legacy."

Her eyes darkened.

"Christian owns ICOH."

"Whatever decision he makes regarding that company is his decision alone."

Lawrence's breathing quickened.

"Qiara—"

"And under absolutely no circumstances would I encourage him to hand you a damn thing."

Silence.

His face twisted with anger.

"You're a Clayborne, for God's sake!"

The outburst echoed through the park.

Several nearby families turned toward them.

Lawrence pointed at her.

"How can you just stand there and let our family's legacy die?"

Qiara stared at him.

For a long moment she said nothing.

Then:

"I'm a Stone."

The world seemed to stop.

Lawrence blinked.

"What?"

"I'm a Stone."

She stepped closer.

The conviction in her voice was absolute.

"I stopped being a Clayborne a long time ago."

The words hit harder than any insult.

Harder than any accusation.

Because she meant them.

Every syllable.

He stared as if she'd struck him.

She continued.

"Christian doesn't owe you ICOH."

"I don't owe you loyalty."

"And I certainly don't owe you help."

Lawrence's hands curled into fists.

"You claim to care about music." His voice shook with rage. "But you'll let hundreds of artists and employees lose their jobs?"

"Oh."

Julius smiled.

"I forgot to mention that part."

Everyone turned to him.

Lawrence felt dread settle in his stomach.

Julius slipped one hand into his pocket.

"The company wasn't shut down."

Lawrence frowned.

"What?"

"Christian sold it."

A beat.

"To me."

The color drained from Lawrence's face.

"No."

Julius nodded.

"HOC is expanding."

"No."

"We acquired ICOH."

"No."

"Operations stay in place. Employees keep their jobs."

Lawrence staggered backward.

It felt like the ground had vanished beneath him.

Years of scheming.

Manipulation.

Control.

Gone.

Just gone.

"You planned this."

His voice cracked.

"You planned this together."

"No."

Julius shrugged.

"Christian made the decision himself."

"You're lying!"

Lawrence lunged forward.

"You stole my company!"

Before he could take another step, Julius grabbed the front of his shirt.

Everything stopped.

Lawrence froze.

Nearby conversations died.

People were openly staring now.

Julius slowly pulled him closer.

His voice remained calm.

Dangerously calm.

"Do you think I care about witnesses, Clayborne?"

Fear instantly replaced anger.

Lawrence swallowed.

Julius released him with a shove.

He stumbled backward and collapsed onto the bench.

Breathing hard.

Humiliated.

Broken.

Qiara looked down at him.

"For the record," she said, "Christian made this decision on his own."

Lawrence shook his head.

"T-That's impossible."

"It isn't."

"He loves music."

Qiara nodded.

"He does."

A sad smile touched her lips.

"But he hates what you turned it into."

Lawrence froze.

"And after everything you've done to him..." she continued, "...he wanted out."

Tears began forming in Lawrence's eyes.

"You've forgiven him."

The accusation sounded weak.

Qiara took a long breath.

"No."

She shook her head.

"Not yet; but I understand him."

A meaningful difference.

"And now he's finally free."

The words crushed whatever hope remained.

Qiara turned away.

Then paused.

One last glance over her shoulder.

"If I were you, Lawrence..."

Her voice was cold.

"...I'd spend more time worrying about your upcoming court dates than ICOH."

Silence.

"ICOH is gone."

She reached for Julius' hand.

He took it immediately.

Together they walked away.

Leaving Lawrence alone on the bench.

Alone with staring strangers.

Alone with the consequences of every choice he'd ever made.

His broken cries followed them across the park.

Neither looked back.

After a while, Julius glanced at Qiara.

"So."

He squeezed her hand.

"Chapter finally closed?"

Qiara looked ahead.

Toward the setting sun.

Toward whatever came next.

"Not yet."

A faint smile touched her lips.

"I have one more stop to make."

\-------

Angelina stared at Qiara through the glass, her eyes blazing with fury.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she snapped. "Come to gloat? Come to see what's left of me?"

For a moment, Qiara said nothing. Her gaze drifted downward, locking onto Angelina's swollen belly. Her eyes widened despite herself.

"Is... is the baby…who’s the father—"

"It's Desmond's."

Qiara froze.

"How do you know?"

A harsh, bitter laugh escaped Angelina's lips.

"Melinda came to the prison and ordered a paternity test. She and Marina will be raising the child once I have it."

Qiara stared at her.

Pregnant.

Angelina Clayborne was pregnant.

The irony was almost too much.

"So what the hell do you want, Qiara?" Angelina demanded. "I'm not in the mood for your games."

Qiara rolled her eyes. Even now—even after losing everything—Angelina still carried herself like she was above everyone else.

Shaking her head, she gave a dry laugh.

"For God's sake, Angelina. Even after everything that's happened, you still haven't learned a damn thing. Tell me, was any of it worth it?"

"Oh, fuck you, Qiara!"

Angelina slammed her hand against the table.

"I'm so fucking sick of that self-righteous act! The wise woman routine! The victim who rose above it all!" Her breathing grew heavier. "You destroyed my life, you bitch! And don't pretend otherwise. You enjoyed every second of it. So spare me the bullshit about life lessons, growth, and regret! You played us all like some got damn puppet master you bitch!"

She moved closer to the glass, her face twisted with rage.

"The only thing I regret..." she hissed, "...is deciding too late to kill you."

Qiara remained silent.

For a brief moment, old memories crept into her mind. Another life. Another ending.

Then a smirk slowly curled across her lips.

"Well," she said softly, "maybe in another life you succeeded."

Angelina stilled.

"Unfortunately for you... this isn't that life."

Qiara's smile widened.

"And you're right. I did enjoy it."

The admission hit Angelina like a slap.

"I enjoyed watching you destroy yourself."

Qiara leaned back comfortably in her chair.

"Every lie you told. Every scheme you hatched. Every bridge you burned. You were so convinced you were the smartest person in every room."

Her grin sharpened.

"And all I had to do was step aside and let you run headfirst into your own disasters."

Angelina's jaw tightened.

Qiara continued mercilessly.

"You call me a puppet master? Maybe I am. But what made it so easy was how predictable you were. Every move. Every tantrum. Every jealous little obsession. I barely had to push."

She laughed softly.

"You spent years believing the world revolved around you, Angie. Watching reality finally correct that mistake has been incredibly satisfying."

Angelina's eyes widened with a mixture of hatred and horror.

Qiara folded her arms.

"I never claimed to be a saint, Angelina."

"No?" Angelina spat.

"No." Qiara shrugged. "I simply chose not to poison everything I touched. I chose to live clean. That's the difference between us."

Angelina scoffed.

"Clean? Please. You had no problem stealing my li—"

"It wasn't your life."

The words were calm but absolute.

"It was never your life."

Angelina froze.

"The sooner you accept that," Qiara continued, "the sooner you'll stop torturing yourself and find some kind of peace in all of this."

For a second there was silence.

Then Angelina burst into hysterical laughter.

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Peace?" she shouted. "PEACE?!"

Her voice echoed through the visitation room.

"I was sentenced to forty-seven fucking years! Forty-seven years! That ADA bitch played me from the start! You think there's peace at the end of that?"

Qiara didn't flinch.

"Honestly?" she said. "That sentence seems fair considering everything you've done."

"Fuck you!"

Angelina's voice cracked.

"Fuck you, you smug bitch!"

She pointed a shaking finger at Qiara.

"You did this to me! You ruined everything!"

"No, Angelina," Qiara replied coldly. "You did."

"I swear to the gods," Angelina growled, "if I ever get another chance—another life, another timeline, another anything—the first thing I'm doing is getting rid of you."

For the first time, Qiara laughed openly.

Not nervously.

Not politely.

Mockingly.

Then she slowly rose from her chair.

"Then I suppose I'll be waiting, Angie."

She picked up her handbag.

"And if you somehow come back..."

Her smile turned razor sharp.

"...try harder next time."

Angelina looked ready to launch herself through the glass.

Qiara simply hung up the receiver.

Without another word, she took one final look at the woman sitting across from her.

The former songstress Angelina Clayborne.

Prison had stripped away the beauty, the glamour, the confidence. What remained was a hollow shell fueled by bitterness, rage, and regret.

Qiara's lips curled into a slow, satisfied smirk.

The screen had been a little early with its celebration...

Now… the destruction was complete.