Chapter 1

                                                                        Sera Kaine

People say the view from the top is beautiful.

They forget to mention how lonely it is.

I've been told I run Kaine Corp with an iron fist. They're wrong. Iron is too soft. I run it with diamond edges--unbreakable, sharp, and guaranteed to leave a mark.

"Ms. Kaine, the board is waiting," my assistant stammers from the doorway, clutching a tablet like it's a holy book that might save her life. Poor thing. She's new. They always are.

I don't bother looking up from the contract I'm signing. "Then let them wait, Ava. Patience is a virtue they clearly lack."

Her shoes squeak against the marble floor as she hesitates. "Y-yes, ma'am."

I smirk. That's the thing about power—people either respect it or fear it. I prefer both.

The pen clicks shut, echoing in my glass-walled office. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the skyline of Italy, all glitter and noise, but in here? Silence. Controlled, deliberate silence. It's how I like it.

My phone buzzes. Three missed calls from Dad. Two texts from Mom. I swipe them away. I'm busy running the empire they once said I couldn't handle. Now they just send polite reminders and pretend they never doubted me.

"Send in the board," I say finally.

Ava exhales like I just pardoned her from execution. "Right away, ma'am."

I fix my blazer and check my reflection in the dark glass. Power suit? Perfect. Hair? Immaculate. Expression? Ice-cold. No one needs to know I barely slept last night, staring at hospital monitors instead of spreadsheets.

The door opens, and the board members shuffle in—seven middle-aged men and one woman who looks like she aged twenty years trying to keep up with them. They sit around the long conference table, murmuring until I step in.

"Good morning," I say sweetly.

It's the kind of 'sweet' that makes them sit straighter. Like they can sense sugar's not the main ingredient.

"Ms. Kaine, we were just discussing the quarterly-"

"Then you were wasting your breath," I cut in, sliding the file across the table. "Because the numbers speak louder than any of you ever could."

One of them, Mr. Bolat, clears his throat. "With due respect, the marketing budget you approved—"

"Is already yielding results," I finish for him. "Next objection?"

He blinks. "I wasn't objecting, I was just—"

"Good. Then don't start now."

A few of them exchange looks. The woman, Mrs. Guilia, hides a smirk. She likes me. Probably because I'm the reason this company hasn't sunk like her last one.

The meeting continues, predictable as ever—men explaining to me what I already know, and me pretending to listen while mentally planning who's getting replaced next quarter.

But then it happens—like every day at exactly 11:30 a.m.

That flicker.

My gaze drifts to the photo on my desk. Two girls—one laughing, one pretending not to. Both too young, too free. One of them is me. The other is lying in a hospital bed, frozen in time.

The smile fades before I can stop it.

Five years.

Five damn years since that accident stole her from everything. From us.

I straighten, mask sliding back into place. "Meeting adjourned. Send me the updated report by EOD."

"But, Ms. Kaine—"

"Do I look like I stuttered, Mr. Bolat?"

He swallows hard. "N-no, ma'am."

"Good. Then don't make me repeat myself."

I stand, heels clicking against the marble—every step a reminder that the girl I once was died the day my sister didn't wake up.

Back in my office, Ava pokes her head in again. "Your coffee, ma'am."

"Triple espresso, no sugar?"

She nods. "Just how you like it."

"Finally, someone in this building who can follow instructions."

She smiles nervously and leaves. I take a sip. Bitter. Perfect. Exactly how mornings should taste.

There's a knock. My father walks in without waiting for permission—because of course he does.

"Still as dramatic as ever," he says, looking around. "You've redecorated."

"And you're still as uninvited as ever," I reply smoothly. "To what do I owe the displeasure?"

He sighs, loosening his tie. "Sera, you can drop the act when it's just us."

I raise an eyebrow. "Act? You mean the one that built this empire while your precious board tried to tear it down? That act?"

His jaw tightens. "I'm worried about your sister."

I set the cup down with a soft clink. "You always are. But worrying doesn't wake her up."

"That's not fair."

"Neither is life," I say simply, standing and turning toward the window. The city stretches endlessly, glittering beneath the noon sun. "You taught me that, remember?"

There's silence, heavy and awkward. He eventually mutters something about dinner at home. I tell him I'll try-knowing full well I won't.

When he leaves, the office feels too quiet again.

Too big. Too empty.

I sink back into my chair, glance at the photo again, and whisper, "You'd laugh if you saw me now, huh? Running Kaine Corp like a tyrant."

My reflection in the glass window smirks back.

Maybe that's all I am now-a tyrant with good lipstick and worse insomnia.

By the time the clock hits 8:00 p.m., the rest of the office looks like a ghost town.

The interns flee by six, the managers by seven, and the weak by sunset. I'm still here--because empires don't build themselves, and broken girls don't heal by sleeping.

My reflection in the glass looks intimidating: sleek bun, smudged eyeliner, and exhaustion dressed in Chanel.

Lovely.

If success had a face, it would look a lot like someone one meltdown away from world domination.

"Heading out, ma'am?" Ava's voice trembles from the doorway again, clutching her purse.

"Yes," I reply, shutting my laptop with a satisfying snap. "And Ava?"

"Y-yes, Ms. Kaine?"

"If anyone emails me after nine, they'd better have invented a cure for stupidity."

Her lips twitch into a nervous smile. "Understood."

"Good. Go home before I start assigning you extra work."

She practically runs out. I smirk. The poor thing still thinks I'm joking.

I grab my coat and step into the elevator, the city's neon lights stretching far below like a grid of burning stars. The doors close, trapping my reflection with me—queen of glass towers, heir to loneliness.

By the time I reach the ground floor, my heels have already announced my arrival like a royal decree. The guards nod respectfully as I step into the night.

My car--a sleek black Aston Martin--waits by the curb. The driver opens the door. "Evening, ma'am."

"Hospital," I say curtly.

He nods. He doesn't ask which one. He knows. Everyone who's worked for me longer than a week knows.

The drive is silent except for the city's heartbeat outside--horns, rain, and restless ambition. I scroll through my phone--emails, reports, one unread text from Mom:

Your sister's condition hasn't changed. The doctor wants to talk tomorrow.

I sigh. Same words, different day. The script hasn't changed in five years.

When the car stops, I step out into the hospital parking lot, instantly hit by that familiar sterile chill. Hospitals smell like false hope and disinfectant--two things I've had enough of.

The nurse at the reception nods when she sees me. "Good evening, Ms. Kaine. Same room?"

I nod once and head for the elevator, ignoring the stares.

People always look at me differently here. Like I'm not the same woman who terrifies half of Italy's corporate boardrooms. Maybe I'm not. Maybe this is the only place I'm allowed to be human.

Room 407.

My sister's name is still on the door—Vivenne Kaine.

The same way it's been since that night.

I push the door open quietly. The monitors beep in their endless rhythm, the only sign that she's still here--somewhere between life and whatever comes after it.

"Hey, sleepyhead," I whisper, setting down a bouquet of white lilies. "You'd hate these flowers. You always said they looked like funeral decor."

The irony isn't lost on me.

I sit beside her bed, fingers brushing the edge of the sheets. "The board tried to challenge me again today. You'd have loved watching me roast them alive."

A humorless laugh escapes my lips. "Remember how you used to say I'd end up running the company or ruining it? Congratulations, I'm doing both."

The room hums with machines, but there's no response. There never is.

Five years, and I still talk to her like she's just pretending. Like she's waiting for the right moment to jump up and say, Gotcha.

"She'd be twenty-three now," I whisper, staring at her still face. "You're supposed to be studying abroad, dating some musician, annoying me on weekends. Not..." My voice trails off.

I clench my jaw. Crying doesn't suit me. It ruins the mascara, and worse--it proves I still care.

A soft knock pulls me back. It's Mom. "You're here late again," she says gently.

"Work ran long."

She steps closer, eyes softening when she looks at Vivenne. "You're overworking yourself."

"I'm running your company," I remind her flatly.

"Our company," she corrects.

I don't argue. There's no point.

Mom still calls it ours like she's part of the empire anymore, but she retired years ago. I took her throne, filled her office, even inherited her favorite assistant. The only thing I didn't inherit was her softness.

"How's she?" I ask.

"The same," Mom murmurs. "Doctor says we'll review her meds tomorrow."

"Right," I say, glancing at my watch. "Let me know if anything changes."

She looks at me for a long second. "You can stay, you know. Just... for a while."

I nod but don't answer. Staying means feeling, and I'm not ready for that. Not tonight.

On the way out, the nurse stops me. "Ms. Kaine, we noticed an irregularity in your sister's heartbeat earlier today. It stabilized, but you might want to--"

"She's stable now?" I interrupt.

"Yes."

"Then call me if she's not."

My tone is sharper than intended, but softness feels dangerous lately.

In the car, I exhale, finally letting the mask slip for a second. Just one.

I lean back against the leather seat, eyes closed. For five seconds, I'm not Sera Kaine the CEO. I'm just Sera—the sister who didn't protect her, the daughter who hides behind sarcasm, the girl who stopped believing in second chances.

Then the phone buzzes.

A calendar reminder: 9:00 AM -- Meeting with Board.

I open my eyes, exhale once, and slide the armor back on.

"Home," I tell the driver.

He nods.

As the city rushes by in a blur of gold and rain, I catch my reflection in the car window—same cold eyes, same calm smirk.

The Ice Queen is back.

And tomorrow, she'll burn the world again—smiling.

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Author's Note

Hey, you. Yes, you--reading this instead of doing literally anything productive. First off, congratulations. You've officially stumbled into my chaotic little world of billion-dollar empires, icy CEOs, and messy feelings (mostly mine... sometimes Sera's).

I just wanted to say: thank you. For clicking, for scrolling, for pretending to care about grown adults making terrible decisions while looking fabulous. You're basically family now... the kind I let drink coffee with me at 2 a.m. while plotting world domination.

This story? It's messy. It's dramatic. It's got sass, heartbreak, revenge, and probably way too much high-heels-and-boardroom energy. But it's also my little love letter to anyone who's ever wanted power, passion, or just a perfectly timed sarcastic remark in their life.

So buckle up. Laugh, cry, throw your phone in frustration, and maybe--just maybe--root for the people who make your life feel like a boardroom of chaos.

Stay fabulous, stay savage,

-Arfiya 💅

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