Chapter 13 - The Ghost of the Past
By the end of the first week, the newly rebranded *Vance-Sterling Holdings*—having dropped the 'Cole' entirely—was operating with a clean, efficient rhythm. The toxic culture that Marcus had cultivated for years was being systematically purged, replaced by transparency, meritocracy, and ethical compliance.
Yet, despite the professional victory, the personal scars remained fresh.
Late one evening, long after the rest of the thirty-fifth floor had cleared out, I stood by the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of my corner office, looking down at the glittering sprawl of the city below. The tiny headlights of cars moved in orderly lines along the avenue where, just two weeks ago, I had stood in the rain, clutching a single cardboard box containing my meager personal belongings.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.
The door opened just a crack, and Sarah, my loyal former assistant who had been fired alongside me on the night of the gala, stepped hesitantly into the room. She was holding a steaming cup of chamomile tea.
"You're still here, Elena—uh, Madam Chairperson," Sarah corrected herself quickly, looking slightly nervous.
I turned away from the window and smiled warmly, stepping across the room to take the cup from her hands. "Stop with the formal titles when it's just the two of us, Sarah. And thank you for the tea."
Sarah walked over to one of the leather armchairs and sat down, letting out a long breath. "I still can't believe any of this is real. Two weeks ago, we were being escorted out by rented thugs. Today, my new office is twice the size, and half the executives who ignored us at the gala are asking me to schedule meetings with you."
"Power is a very fickle thing, Sarah," I said, sipping the warm tea. "It looks permanent until someone pulls the plug. Marcus thought he owned the world because he held the microphone. He forgot that the microphone was plugged into a generator I built."
"Have you heard anything about him?" Sarah asked hesitantly. "From what I heard, his friends have all vanished. His new fiancée broke off the engagement the moment his accounts were frozen, and he's facing up to ten years on federal wire fraud and embezzlement charges."
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"Let him reap what he sowed," I replied, my voice calm. "I spent years trying to save him from his own reckless ambition, covering for his mistakes, smoothing over his financial blunders. I'm done being his safety net."
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