I sat at the head of the conference table for the first time in years.

“Prepare a board packet,” I said. “Full ownership structure. Financial irregularities. Breach of fiduciary duty. Unauthorized transfers. Data exposure. Include screenshots of Brooke’s announcement.”

Nolan’s fingers moved quickly across the tablet.

“Miriam,” I said, “file the emergency injunction at 7 a.m.”

A faint smile touched her lips. “Already drafted.”

I nearly laughed.

My father had chosen wisely.

At 12:30 a.m., I removed my wedding ring and placed it beside the company seal.

The diamond looked smaller than I remembered.

Maybe because I had finally stopped mistaking it for a promise.

“Ethan thinks tomorrow morning will be about damage control,” Nolan said.

“No,” I replied. “Tomorrow morning is about ownership.”

I looked one last time at my father’s photograph, at the man who had taught me never to mistake silence for surrender.

Then I signed the activation order.

Emergency Protocol Whitmore was no longer a contingency.

It was war.

PART 3

At 6:05 the following morning, Ethan called me seventeen times.