Reclamation

Reclamation
POV Sage Winters

The secretary stared at Ronan with her mouth slightly open, shock written across every line of her face as she watched him scramble up from the floor in nothing but his underwear.

"Mr... you..." She half-rose from her chair, one hand reaching out uncertainly. "Do you need me to call an ambulance?"

Ronan's head snapped toward her with such venom that she flinched back against the wall. His face was still flushed dark red, whether from humiliation or rage I couldn't tell, and sweat continued to trickle down his temples.

I watched him with clinical detachment as he snatched his pants from the floor, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. His fingers fumbled with the fabric, struggling to get his legs through the openings while maintaining some shred of dignity.

Thorne remained perfectly still throughout Ronan's struggles, his posture relaxed but his presence filling the room like a physical weight. When Ronan finally managed to zip his pants and button his shirt with shaking hands, my mate moved smoothly to position himself beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed. The contact sent warmth through my body, steadying me.

Ronan stumbled back to his desk and collapsed into the chair across from us, his breathing still uneven. His expensive shirt was wrinkled and misbuttoned, hanging askew on his frame. He looked like he'd aged a decade in the last fifteen minutes, his skin gray beneath the flush, his eyes hollow.

"You really want to be this heartless?" The words came out raw and bitter, his gaze fixed on me with something that might have been genuine pain if I didn't know him better. "I'm your uncle, Sage. Your mother's brother."

"My mother trusted you," I said, keeping my voice level even as fury burned in my chest. "She left you in charge of her legacy, believing you would protect it until I came of age. Instead, you tried to steal it."

Ronan's jaw worked, but he said nothing. His hands gripped the edge of the desk hard enough to make his knuckles white.

"I have a proposal," he said finally, leaning forward with what might have been meant as a conciliatory expression. "Let me keep managing the company. I have years of experience, connections throughout the industry. You're young, still learning. I could hold your shares in trust, make sure everything runs smoothly while you focus on your medical career."

The audacity of it nearly made me laugh. Here he sat, stripped of his dignity and his power, still trying to manipulate me into giving him control. Still thinking I was naive enough to fall for the same tricks that had worked on my mother.

"No," I said simply, reaching for the folder Thorne had prepared. "You're going to sign over the shares you stole. All forty percent. Right now."

I slid the transfer documents across the desk, watching his face drain of what little color it had left. His eyes tracked over the pages, taking in the legal language that would strip him of everything he'd built on my mother's foundation. His hands trembled as he picked up the expensive fountain pen from its stand.

"Sage." His voice cracked. "Please. Don't do this."

"Sign it," Thorne said quietly, and there was steel beneath the calm words. "Or we can continue the medical examination. I'm sure the secretary would be fascinated to learn exactly what techniques emergency medicine employs."

The pen scratched across the first page. Then the second. Then the third. Ronan's signature grew increasingly shaky with each stroke, his breathing harsh in the quiet office. I watched every movement, making sure he didn't try to alter anything, didn't leave any loopholes he could exploit later.

When he finished the last page, Thorne gathered the documents with swift efficiency, checking each signature with the thoroughness of someone who'd spent years reviewing contracts. He nodded once, satisfied, before tucking the folder under his arm.

The secretary had been pressed against the wall throughout the entire exchange, but I could see the wheels turning behind her eyes as she processed what had just happened. The power structure in this office had shifted completely in the span of twenty minutes, and she was smart enough to recognize it.

Smart enough to be dangerous if I didn't handle this correctly.

I turned to face her fully, studying the way she held herself, the calculation in her expression beneath the shock. "What's your name?"

She straightened slightly, smoothing her skirt with one hand. "Gloria Mitchell."

"Gloria." I let the name settle between us. "I need you to do something for me. Contact every shareholder and executive. Tell them there's an emergency board meeting in two hours."

Her eyes flicked to Ronan, then back to me. I saw the decision forming, watched her weigh her options and choose self-preservation. "Of course, Miss Winters. Right away."

"The way I see it, Gloria, you just witnessed your employer fake a medical emergency to avoid a legal obligation." I kept my voice pleasant, but let enough edge creep in that she couldn't miss the threat. "That puts you in a difficult position. Either you're complicit in his fraud, or you were too incompetent to recognize the signs. Neither looks good for your career."

Her face went pale. "I didn't know—"

"I'm giving you a chance," I interrupted. "A chance to prove you're smarter than your former boss. That you can recognize when the winds have changed and adjust accordingly. Do you understand?"

Gloria swallowed hard, her throat working. "I understand, Miss Winters."

"Ms. Winters will be fine," I corrected. "And for the record, the title is CEO now, not Miss."

"Yes, Ms. Winters." She pulled out her phone with shaking hands. "I'll send the notices immediately."

Ronan had slumped back in his chair during our exchange, his eyes vacant, staring at nothing. He looked broken, hollowed out, like a puppet with its strings cut. Part of me—the part that still remembered him bringing me candy when I was small, before everything fell apart—felt a flicker of something that might have been pity.

But then I remembered my mother's face in the few photos I had. Remembered the years spent learning medicine from Elara because I had nowhere else to go. Remembered every night I'd wondered if my family would ever want me back.

The pity died before it could fully form.

"We're done here," I said, gathering my bag. "Gloria will show us to the conference room when it's time for the meeting."

Thorne's hand settled at the small of my back as we moved toward the door, warm and steady through the fabric of my dress. I could feel his pride through our bond, mixing with my own turbulent emotions into something almost overwhelming.

As we stepped into the hallway, leaving Ronan alone with his defeat, I felt my hands start to shake. The adrenaline that had carried me through the confrontation was fading, leaving exhaustion and something dangerously close to tears in its wake.

"Sage." Thorne's voice was soft, concerned. "Are you alright?"

I shook my head, not trusting my voice yet. He guided me down the hall to a small alcove near the elevators, away from prying eyes, and pulled me against his chest. His arms came around me, solid and warm, and I buried my face in his shirt.

"Fourteen years," I whispered, my voice muffled against the fabric. "Fourteen years, Thorne. And it's finally mine. Finally."

His hand stroked through my hair, gentle and soothing. "Your mother would be so proud of you. I know I am."

The tears came then, hot and silent against his chest. Not tears of sadness but of relief, of vindication, of grief for everything I'd lost and everything I'd finally reclaimed. Thorne held me through it all, his presence anchoring me, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.

When I finally pulled back, my face felt hot and my eyes burned, but I felt clearer somehow. Lighter. Like I'd set down a weight I'd been carrying for so long I'd forgotten it was there.

Thorne cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tear tracks on my cheeks. His eyes were warm, the gold completely overtaking the gray, and the look he gave me made my breath catch.

"Ready for the next part?" he asked softly.

I nodded, straightening my spine and squaring my shoulders. The next part meant facing the board, convincing them to accept me as CEO despite my age and inexperience. It meant stepping fully into my role as my mother's heir, as the rightful owner of Silverpine Global.

"Ready," I said, and meant it.