Chapter 2The Lazy Queen Reclaims Her Throne

Arthur Prescott was a shark. He was one of the most ruthless, high-tier corporate litigators on the East Coast.

Ten years ago, the moment I decided to check out of reality, I put him on retainer.

Back then, I had just inherited the company after my father’s sudden fatal heart attack. The firm wasn't massive, but it was bleeding cash, drowning in liabilities, and teetering on the edge of Chapter 11 bankruptcy.

My father’s dying wish, whispered through an oxygen mask, was for me to save his legacy.

But I was exhausted. I was grieving. And I possessed exactly zero business acumen.

Harley was just a hungry, aggressive junior executive back then. He had nothing to his name but a cheap suit and a burning, desperate ambition. He pursued me relentlessly. He treated me like a queen.

But I wasn't stupid. I saw the raw, starving greed in his eyes.

I needed a workhorse to save my father's legacy. He needed a ladder to climb out of his tax bracket.

We made a quiet, unspoken pact.

Before the wedding, I made Harley sit down in Arthur's mahogany-paneled office.

Arthur drafted a prenuptial agreement so draconian it was practically medieval, alongside an ironclad Corporate Proxy Agreement. The paperwork explicitly stated that ownership of Crestview Holdings remained entirely mine. Harley was granted operational control. As my husband and proxy, he could run the day-to-day, but any structural changes, major acquisitions, or equity transfers required my physical signature.

His base salary and performance-based equity phantom shares were laid out in black and white.

Blinded by the zeroes on the page and the illusion of power, Harley signed everything without blinking.

He honestly believed that once the ring was on my finger, I—and my empire—would ultimately belong to him.

He was remarkably naive.

I didn't believe in the fairy tale of marriage. I believed in legally binding contracts.

For ten years, I played the fool. I stayed home, baked sourdough, and read novels. But every single quarter, Arthur’s couriers dropped a sealed box of financial audits and board minutes at my door.

I knew about every book Harley cooked. I knew about every board member he bought off with luxury vacations. I knew exactly how he and Camilla were slowly trying to dilute my power.

I even knew about the shell companies registered in Delaware under Camilla’s cousin’s name, where they were quietly siphoning off liquid capital.

I knew all of it. I just didn't move.

I was waiting. Waiting for them to inflate the balloon to its absolute maximum capacity. Waiting for them to feel utterly invincible. And then, I was going to take it all back, with interest.

The timer just went off.

"Arthur, they tried to buy me out for ten million," I stated flatly over the Bluetooth connection.

Arthur let out a low, dry chuckle. "It appears they’ve suffered a severe bout of amnesia regarding their actual tax bracket."

"They forgot who owns the house. Let's remind them."

"Give me the green light, Betty."

"Phase one: Serve the papers. Notify the Board of Directors and the SEC that I am permanently revoking Harley's proxy privileges. All corporate seals, financial authorizations, and signatory rights are frozen immediately, pending a full audit."

"Phase two: File the injunctions. Freeze every single personal and business bank account tied to Harley, Camilla, and their Delaware LLCs."

"Phase three: I want a formal complaint filed with the federal authorities. Wire fraud, embezzlement, and corporate malfeasance against the current acting CEO."

I rattled off the orders with clinical precision.

I could hear Arthur typing frantically. "Copy that. Betty, you still have the original Founder's Charter in your possession?"

"I do."

It was my nuclear code.

It was the original founding document my father had drafted decades ago. Buried deep in the legalese was a 'Golden Share' clause: The Founder, or her direct heir, retains an absolute veto over any and all Board resolutions. This clause exists in perpetuity and cannot be diluted, amended, or bypassed.

Harley and his cronies thought my power began and ended with my 100% equity, which they had been trying to maneuver around.

They had no idea I held the kill switch.

I pulled into the driveway of the sprawling estate Harley and I had shared for a decade.

He wouldn't be coming home tonight. Good. I didn't want the smell of his cologne in the foyer.

I walked straight into my walk-in closet, spun the dial on the wall safe, and pulled out a heavy, fireproof document bag.

I ran my thumb over the old wax seal. My chest tightened.

Dad, I didn't let it burn.

I'm keeping what's ours. And I'm going to ruin anyone who tries to take it.

By 9:00 AM the next morning, Arthur’s firm executed a bloodbath.

Cease-and-desist letters and proxy-revocation notices slammed into the inboxes of every single board member at Crestview Holdings.

Simultaneously, federal court summons and asset-freeze mandates were hand-delivered to Harley and Camilla’s desks.

I could only imagine the sheer terror on their faces when the process servers walked in.

My phone started ringing. It didn't stop.

Numbers I didn't recognize. Harley. Camilla.

I swiped them all to voicemail.

I took a long shower, put on a silk blouse and a pair of tailored slacks, and drove downtown to Sylvia’s art gallery.

She was in the middle of critiquing a student’s canvas when she saw me. She dropped her arms, her jaw hitting the floor.

"Well, look who decided to join the land of the living. Did hell freeze over? You're out of sweatpants."

I smiled, dropping onto the velvet sofa in her office.

"I have some news."

"Spill."

"I'm going back to work."

The paintbrush in Sylvia’s hand snapped in two.

She stared at me like I had just grown a second head.

"You? Work? Are you having a stroke?"

"No stroke." I picked up a glass of sparkling water from her desk and took a sip. "Harley and Camilla tried to force me out of the company."

Sylvia’s face darkened instantly. She always knew that bastard was a snake. "How the hell did they think they could pull that off?"

"They thought because I was quiet, I was stupid." I set the glass down. The laziness that had defined my posture for a decade evaporated, replaced by cold steel.

"So, I decided I'm done resting."

"I'm taking my empire back. And I'm throwing them out on the street with absolutely nothing."