Chapter 4 The Sister's First Counterattack

The next morning, I woke to urgent knocking. Mother entered without waiting for my response, her face tense.

"Family meeting in the library. Ten minutes." She sat on the edge of my bed. "Charles has called the entire board of directors. Something's happening."

I dressed quickly, choosing a tailored black dress that projected both competence and femininity—armor for whatever battle awaited. Mother and I arrived at the library together, pausing at the heavy wooden doors.

"Whatever happens in there," she whispered, "remember who you are."

The library was imposing—two stories of leather-bound books, a massive fireplace, and a long mahogany table where approximately fifteen people sat in apparent anticipation. Charles occupied the head, Emily at his right hand, looking smugly satisfied. Damien stood by the window, his expression unreadable as our eyes briefly met.

"Ah, Catherine. Vivian. How good of you to join us." Charles's tone suggested the opposite. "Please, sit."

The only available seats were at the far end of the table—physically and symbolically distant from the center of power. I recognized several faces from my tour yesterday, including Sophie, who offered an encouraging smile.

"Now that we're all present," Charles continued, "let's address the matter at hand. As you know, Vivian has returned after fifteen years, which raises certain... questions regarding succession and company leadership."

Emily leaned forward. "Given the circumstances, I believe clarity is essential. The board should understand who truly represents the Hart legacy."

My stomach tightened. This was a calculated move—Emily had orchestrated this meeting to establish dominance.

Charles nodded. "Indeed. While Vivian is technically a Hart by blood, she has been absent during the company's most significant growth period. Emily, meanwhile, has been actively involved in company affairs since childhood."

"With all due respect," Mother interjected, her voice steady, "Vivian's absence was not of her choosing. She was a child when I made the decision to leave."

"A decision precipitated by your own actions, Catherine," Charles replied coldly.

Before Mother could respond, Emily spoke. "The issue isn't about assigning blame for past decisions. It's about determining who is qualified to represent Hart Industries moving forward." She smiled sweetly in my direction. "Vivian has had no exposure to our business operations, our client relationships, or our corporate culture."

"I've studied business and economics at the highest academic levels," I countered calmly. "And yesterday's tour demonstrated that Hart Industries remains fundamentally the company my father helped build."

Emily's smile tightened. "Academic knowledge hardly compares to lived experience, sister dear."

"Enough," Charles interrupted. "The purpose of this meeting is to clarify the current leadership structure for all concerned. Emily has been groomed as my successor since childhood. She understands this company, its values, and its future direction."

Several board members nodded in agreement. I felt the tide turning against me before I'd even had a chance to fight.

"Furthermore," Charles continued, "to solidify the company's future leadership, I am pleased to announce that Emily and Damien are officially engaged to be married."

The statement hit me like a physical blow. I fought to maintain my composure as congratulations erupted around the table. Emily beamed, extending her left hand to display a massive diamond I hadn't noticed earlier. Damien moved to stand behind her chair, his hand on her shoulder, the perfect picture of dynastic union.

Our eyes met briefly across the room. His expression revealed nothing, but I remembered the electricity in the car yesterday—the near-kiss, his warning about Emily. Had that all been manipulation? A test of my vulnerabilities?

"The wedding will take place in three months," Emily announced happily. "Ensuring that Hart Industries transitions smoothly into its next generation of leadership."

Sophie spoke up unexpectedly. "While I congratulate the happy couple, I must remind the board that Alexander Hart's will specifically designated both his daughters as equal heirs to his company shares. Unless that document has been altered, Vivian legally holds twenty-five percent of Hart Industries, regardless of her absence."

A murmur ran through the room. Charles's face darkened. "That is a technical matter that our legal team will address. For practical purposes, Emily will serve as the family representative."

"Actually," I said, finding my voice, "I'd like to exercise my right to attend all board meetings moving forward. As a significant shareholder, I'm entitled to direct involvement in company decisions."

Charles's jaw tightened visibly. This was clearly not part of the script he and Emily had prepared. "You lack the necessary experience—"

"Which I can only gain through active participation," I interrupted smoothly. "Unless you're suggesting my father's will should be disregarded?"

The room fell silent. Challenging Charles directly was unexpected—a power move that disrupted the careful narrative Emily had constructed.

"I believe that's her right," Damien said suddenly. All heads turned toward him. "As legal counsel for Hart Industries, I must advise that preventing a major shareholder from participation could create liability issues."

Emily stared at him in shock, clearly not anticipating his support of my position. Charles's expression could have frozen fire.

"Very well," he conceded reluctantly. "Vivian may observe board proceedings while she... acclimates to company operations. Now, if there's no further business—"

"Actually," Emily interrupted, her composure recovered, "there is one more matter." She nodded to her assistant, who distributed folders to everyone at the table. "In the interest of transparency, I've compiled some information the board should be aware of regarding Vivian's background."

My heart sank as I opened the folder. Inside were printed screenshots of social media posts from my high school years—embarrassing photos from parties, screenshots of teenage arguments, and most damning, an article from the school newspaper about my suspension for helping a friend cheat on an exam.

"I merely want to ensure we all understand who we're considering for a leadership position," Emily said with false concern. "Character matters at Hart Industries."

The room filled with uncomfortable murmurs as board members reviewed the contents. Mother reached for my hand under the table, squeezing it supportively.

"These are from when I was sixteen," I said evenly, refusing to show how deeply Emily's attack had cut. "I made mistakes, as teenagers do. I'm not ashamed of my growth since then."

"Of course not," Emily replied smoothly. "We all make youthful errors. Though helping someone cheat does raise questions about integrity, doesn't it?"

The trap was perfectly laid—respond defensively and appear guilty, or remain silent and seem to accept the characterization. Either way, Emily won.

Unexpectedly, Sophie closed her folder with a sharp slap. "If we're discussing youthful indiscretions, perhaps we should also review the incident at Pembroke Academy when Emily was seventeen? The one that required significant financial contribution from Hart Industries to resolve quietly?"

Emily's face flushed crimson. "That was a misunderstanding."

"Was it?" Sophie challenged mildly. "Because I recall significant property damage and at least one hospitalization."

Charles cleared his throat loudly. "That's quite enough, Dr. Chen. This meeting has veered wildly off-topic." He stood, signaling the discussion was over. "The board will reconvene next week for our regular session. Vivian may attend as an observer only."

As the room emptied, Emily brushed past me, whispering, "Enjoy your small victory. It won't last."

I remained seated, processing what had just occurred. Sophie approached, dropping a supportive hand on my shoulder.

"Well played," she murmured. "But be careful. Emily fights dirty when cornered."

"Thank you for what you said," I replied quietly. "About the Pembroke incident—what happened?"

Sophie glanced around to ensure we weren't overheard. "Let's just say your sister has a vindictive streak when she feels threatened. The girl ended up transferring schools." She squeezed my shoulder. "Watch your back."

As Sophie left, I realized Damien had lingered, apparently reviewing documents but clearly waiting for the room to clear. When we were alone except for Mother, who stood by the fireplace, he approached.

"Congratulations on your engagement," I said coolly, standing to leave.

"Vivian." His voice stopped me. "It's not what you think."

"Isn't it? The diamond suggests otherwise."

He lowered his voice. "The announcement was supposed to happen next month. Emily accelerated it after yesterday."

"After you almost kissed me, you mean?" I challenged quietly.

His eyes darkened. "We need to talk. Privately."

"I don't think your fiancée would approve."

"Tonight. The rose garden at eleven." He glanced toward my mother, then back to me. "There are things you need to know."

Before I could respond, Emily reappeared in the doorway. "Damien? The photographers are waiting for our engagement announcement."

He straightened, professional mask sliding back into place. "Coming."

As they left, Mother joined me, her expression concerned. "Be careful, Vivian. I recognize that look in your eyes—it's the same one I had twenty years ago with your father. Hart men are dangerous enough. The men who serve them are even more so."

I watched through the window as Damien and Emily posed for photographs on the front steps, her diamond catching the sunlight, his arm around her waist. The perfect couple. The future of Hart Industries.

"I know what I'm doing," I told Mother, though I wasn't entirely sure that was true.

Later that afternoon, I found myself alone in the grand foyer when Charles returned from a meeting. He paused when he saw me, studying me with cold calculation.

"You surprised me today," he said finally. "Perhaps there's more Hart in you than I thought."

"I am a Hart," I replied firmly. "Whether you've accepted that or not."

He approached slowly, his imposing presence filling the space between us. "Let me be clear, Vivian. This company, this family, has operated smoothly for fifteen years without you. Emily has been prepared for leadership her entire life. Her marriage to Damien will cement the future I've carefully constructed."

"And where do I fit in this perfect picture?" I asked.

His smile was cold. "You don't. Your mother made her choice when she took you away. There are consequences to choices."

"What if it wasn't her choice?" I challenged. "What if she was protecting me?"

Something flashed in his eyes—anger, perhaps, or fear. "Be careful with accusations you can't substantiate, girl. You've been granted observer status out of legal necessity, nothing more."

He turned to leave, then paused. "One more thing. Whatever game you think you're playing with Damien—end it. He belongs to Emily, and through her, to Hart Industries. Don't make the same mistake your mother did."

As he walked away, my resolve hardened. I would not be erased, would not be the forgotten daughter relegated to the shadows. I squared my shoulders and called after him.

"I am the true daughter of the Hart family," I declared, my voice echoing in the marble foyer. "No one can replace me."

Charles turned slowly, surprise evident on his face. For a moment, something like respect flickered in his eyes before he masked it with indifference. Without responding, he continued up the grand staircase, leaving me alone with my declaration hanging in the air.

The gauntlet was thrown. The real battle had begun.