Stolen Legacy
Elena’s POV:
We rushed to the office to meet Mr Harrington.The moment Mr. Harrington walked out of the room, it was as though he carried all the air with him.The office suddenly felt suffocating,the walls pressing in around me. His polite apologies still rang in my ears.
I can’t risk Ethan’s wrath. I hope you understand.
I understood.
I understood too well.
I understood that fear had become Ethan’s currency, more powerful than gold. That loyalty could be bought, broken, or traded if the right name whispered in the dark. And that mine, no matter how hard I fought, was the name no one wanted to protect anymore.
Damien’s gaze lingered on me. Not pitying, not cruel. Measuring. He had that look he wore in negotiations—the one that stripped everything bare. For once, I wished he’d look away.
Instead, he slid a thick folder across the polished desk. The scrape of it against the wood cut through the silence like a blade.
“Open it,” he said.
My hands trembled as I reached for it. The folder was heavier than I expected. I flipped it open and froze.
Names. Dozens of names.
Investors. Business partners. Family friends. People who had toasted champagne at my birthday. Who had sent gifts on holidays. Who had clasped my hand warmly at society galas and sworn allegiance to the Mendez family.
Every single one of them was crossed out.
And next to each line was another: Redirected to Ethan Vale.
I blinked, unable to process it. “This can’t… this can’t be right.”
Damien leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “It’s not only right—it’s deliberate.”
My mouth went dry. “Deliberate?”
He tapped the page with a finger. “Your father gave him the list, Elena. Hand-delivered every contact. Every ally. Every lifeline.”
The words hit harder than any betrayal Ethan or Selena had thrown at me.
“My father…” I whispered, as though saying the word might summon him to deny it.
But the truth was already unraveling inside me. Memories I had buried began stitching themselves into a cruel tapestry.
Victor Mendez, teaching me that love was conditional, doled out only when I played the perfect daughter.
And when I failed—when I chose Ethan—he hadn’t hesitated to disown me.
Now, he had gone further.
He had handed my legacy—my blood—to the very man who shoved me off a cliff.
The crown I was born to inherit… poisoned in Ethan’s grasp.
The folder slipped from my hands, scattering pages across the desk. My vision blurred, not from tears—I refused to give Victor that satisfaction—but from rage so raw it felt like fire in my veins.
Damien stood slowly, gathering the papers with deliberate calm. His silence was louder than any scolding.
Finally, he set them in front of me again. His voice was low, sharp. “He made his choice. Now make yours.”
I looked up at him. “You don’t understand. He’s my father—”
“No.” Damien’s tone cracked like thunder. “He was your father. Now he’s Ethan’s weapon. Accept it, or you’ll drown under it.”
The truth of it stung worse than the betrayal. I wanted to scream. To deny. To cling to the fragile hope that Victor Mendez might still care about his daughter. But the evidence lay in front of me, page after damning page.
I closed the folder with trembling fingers. “So that’s it. He didn’t just abandon me—he sold me out.”
The silence stretched again. For a moment, I thought Damien would offer comfort. Instead, he tilted his head, studying me with that predatory patience of his.
“Then poison what he gave away,” he said finally.
I frowned. “What?”
His lips curved into something between a smile and a warning. “Your father handed Ethan the crown. Fine. Let Ethan choke on it.”
The words lit something inside me—dark, dangerous, alive.
Because he was right
Free to fight. Free to destroy. Free to poison Ethan’s crown with my own hands.
The daughter who longed for her father’s acceptance was gone. What remained was sharper, hungrier.
“Fine,” I said, my voice steady though my heart raced. “Let Ethan have the crown. I’ll make sure it destroys him.”
Damien’s eyes darkened, approval flickering beneath the surface. “Good girl.”
I bristled. Not because of the words, but because of the way they twisted something inside me—part anger, part satisfaction. I wasn’t his girl. Not Ethan’s, not Victor’s, not anyone’s.
I was Elena Mendez.
And tonight, I had declared war on my own blood.
The storm outside had quieted, but inside me it raged fiercer than ever. I left Damien’s office with the folder clutched against my chest, the poisoned crown heavy in my arms.
I didn’t know how long this war would take. Or how much I would lose before the end.
But one thing was certain: Ethan and Victor wouldn’t see me coming.