Chapter 22 22

Chapter 22 22

Author's POV

A glimpse into Shaniah and Emily's Story 6 years ago.

“What are you doing here? What the fuck is this?”

“Careful with the language, darling,” Janette Delano said in a sleek voice, dropping her custom-made Birkin bag on the table. “You’re in a professional setting, if you know what that is.”

Emily Collins looked at Janette, then at the ocean of faces surrounding the long glass table. Something was terribly off. There was no way this could be right. Her father would never entrust his company to a woman like Janette Delano—a manipulative mistress who had warmed his bed for years. A woman so vain and selfish that she once refused to donate blood to him at the beginning of his illness. Her excuse? She was planning to get a new BBL and couldn’t afford to lose blood.

Janette Delano had been in Emily’s life since she was ten years old. Emily could vividly remember the times the woman would visit their home, pretending to be a nurturing stepmother—making sandwiches for her and her twin sister, Shaniah washing their hair, and taking them to school. Of course, all of it had been a performance—a façade to appear like a loving stepmother and win their father’s approval. But Emily’s father had never been blinded enough to marry her.

As a regular mistress, Janette’s influence over him was limited. She accompanied him to parties, posed with him at red carpet events, and occasionally joined him for interviews. But never the official outings. At the time, Emily’s father was the mayor of their town, and Janette was never presented as his mayoress. She held no political power or benefits. She was also never allowed to attend his confidential mafia meetings, nor did she gain access to his debit cards. Janette only ever possessed credit cards with a fixed spending limit.

Yet, despite everything, she had always wanted more. She constantly spoke about how Emily’s father needed a male heir to inherit his empire. Her obsession with being the legitimate wife had made her dangerous—so dangerous that she once became a direct threat to Emily’s life.

Emily had never been able to prove it, but she had always believed Janette was behind the “accident” that nearly crippled her. When Emily was twelve, someone had greased the stairway to her room. She slipped, broke her ankle, and spent the rest of that year in a wheelchair.

Her father, on the other hand, had loved Janette—enough, but not too deeply. The kind of love that was comfortable, convenient, but never complete. He had only ever truly opened his heart to one woman: the twins' late mother.

At the age of forty-two, Janette Delano still looked breathtaking—Latina, with deep brown hair, caramel skin, and sharp hazel eyes that sparkled with vanity. She seemed to age backwards, and that, Emily knew, had always been her father’s weakness—beauty.

“I’m not here to dilly-dally, Janette,” Emily said, reclining deeper into the large leather chair at the head of the table. “All of this belongs to me—or have you managed to squeeze your name into my father’s will?”

She added a dry laugh to the end, and she watched Janette’s face tighten, her smooth skin blanching with rage. Her father’s will was sacred territory; he had made provisions for Janette’s future, but there was not a single inheritance under her name.

“You will talk to me with respect, Emily, and you will vacate that seat for me,” Janette hissed, her voice cracking with compressed anger. “Your father might not have included me in his will, but he has assigned the affairs of these companies to me. You’d do well to ask him yourself. Now get up—or I shall dismiss this meeting.”

“You have no right to do that,” Emily shot back. “And no employee here will obey your command. Moreover, my father is not stupid, so your lies don’t work on me.”

“Are you really saying that to me?” Janette leaned forward, her hazel eyes gleaming with the intent to intimidate. But Emily had seen worse. Janette had a reputation for carrying firearms and flirting with gang members, but Emily was far from afraid.

“Yes, Janette,” Emily said, standing up, squaring her shoulders. “If you’re looking for something to busy yourself with, why don’t you retrace your steps back to the boutiques you spent money at? Who knows—some of the expensive dresses and jewellery you bought might still be refundable.”

Several employees at the table began to snicker, but one harsh glare from Janette silenced them. Heads lowered in fear.

“I have been in charge of your father’s company since he became bedridden,” Janette declared. “You can ask that man over there.” She pointed toward Joshua Gregor. “He made me a shareholder.”

“A share what?” Emily demanded.

“A shareholder, Emily,” Janette replied, curling her lips into a mocking smirk. “Joshua Gregor is your fiancé, isn’t he? Well, ask him. I now possess twenty per cent of the entire enterprise. I can even show you the agreement between us. I’m not someone you can just kick out, Emily. I hate to burst your bubble.”

Emily turned to look at Joshua, but he looked away. She shook her head, trying to clear the confusion. Something was terribly wrong, and she hated that Joshua was in the middle of it all.

“Still, this is my father’s company, and I don’t want you here, Janette,” Emily said firmly. “I may not have full control at the moment, but I make the major decisions.”

“This company is mine as much as it is yours,” Janette shot back stubbornly. She wasn’t going to back down. Emily knew her too well—a greedy woman who could no longer travel the world or chase after wealthy men. Her father’s company was now Janette’s last resort, her financial bedrock.

But not on Emily’s watch. Not when this woman had once tried to take her life and her place.

“You can’t remove me, Emily,” Janette whispered into her ear as she leaned close. “This place belongs to me now. You can cry, rant, or even run around, but I am immune. There is nothing you can do to me.”

“We should go home, Emily,” Joshua's voice interrupted, calm but firm. “Let us leave the meeting for those who have handled it from the beginning.” He stretched out a hand. “Come now, darling, let’s go home.”

“No.”

Emily’s voice was cold and sharp, cutting through the air like glass. She glared at him, and Joshua’s face went pale with fear. How could he betray her like this? Had her father entrusted the company to him only for it to be ruined? Emily knew Janette Delano—she had no genuine plans for the company. She was only after her selfish interest, eager to grab everything she could before her father died.

“We should go home, Emily. You need to rest,” Joshua said again, moving closer and taking her hand. But as he began to drag her away, a thought flashed across Emily’s mind. She snatched her hand from his grip and turned around.

“Who is the head of the accounting department?” she called out. “Who manages the company’s account books?”

“Here, Ma’am.” A small, ferret-looking man with large glasses stood up nervously. “I am Mr Chester Malcolm.”

“Good.” Emily moved toward him, ignoring Janette, who had now taken the head seat. “Give me a rundown of the company’s audit. My father has been incapacitated for six months now. How much has the company generated in income and profit? And how much has it incurred in losses and debts?”

Mr Malcolm adjusted his glasses and opened a thick, brow, hardcover ledger on the table. After scanning its pages for a few seconds, he raised his head and glanced at Janette. His lips trembled, and his eyes were wide with trepidation.

“Your husband has asked you to leave, Emily. What business do you have with this company?” Janette interrupted with a cold smirk.

“I am not talking to you, Janette,” Emily said sharply. “I’m all ears, Mr Malcolm. Give me the numbers. How much does the company owe, and how much has it made since my father’s illness?”

“Uhm…” The man stammered, swallowing hard. “There’s so much to read here, and I—I doubt we have the time to…”

Emily didn’t let him finish. She reached over the table and snatched the account statement from his trembling hands.

“Oh,” he gasped, eyes wide in shock, but Emily ignored him. She turned back toward Janette.

“I’ll go through this statement later,” Emily said, slipping the document into her bag. “Now, Janette Delano, my husband conferred twenty per cent of this company’s shares to your name, didn’t he?”

“What are you doing, Emily?” Joshua’s voice was stern, but she didn’t even look at him.

“Answer the question, Jan.”

“Yes,” Janette said reluctantly.

“Good. Proof of payment, please,” Emily demanded, her eyes narrowing.

A flash of panic crossed Janette’s face before she quickly masked it with feigned confusion. “What payment?” she asked, her tone dripping with false innocence.

“Oh—you mean you didn’t know?” Emily chuckled, taking a deliberate step closer.

“You are not included in my father’s will, Janette. A ten per cent share in this company costs a hundred million dollars. My husband gave you twenty per cent, so you know how much that is. Two hundred million. Tell me, Janette—do you have that kind of money?”

Janette’s lips quivered. “This was not—”

But Emily cut her off coldly.

“You have seven weeks to make a full payment for the twenty per cent shares you’re holding, or you will be arrested and charged in court for theft.”

The room fell silent.