Chapter 3 The Fall of the King

# Chapter 3: The Fall of the King

The aftermath of a bomb is always eerily quiet. Three days after the wedding disaster, I sit in Alaric's sleek downtown office, watching Corwin's empire crumble in real-time across multiple news channels. The financial networks can't get enough of the scandal—Blake Industries stock in freefall, board members calling emergency meetings, investors fleeing like rats from a sinking ship.

"Blake Industries shares dropped another fifteen percent at opening bell," announces the CNBC anchor, barely concealing her excitement at the drama. "Sources close to the board indicate an emergency session has been called to discuss CEO Corwin Blake's future with the company following allegations of financial impropriety and the... unusual events at his wedding this weekend."

I mute the television and turn to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Manhattan sprawls before me, indifferent to the destruction of one man's kingdom.

"Having second thoughts?" Alaric asks, entering with two cups of coffee. Unlike Corwin, who preferred his office sterile and impersonal, Alaric's space reflects the man—modern yet comfortable, with carefully selected art and books that aren't just for show.

"Not about exposing him," I reply, accepting the coffee. "But about what comes next."

Alaric settles into the chair across from me, studying my face with those penetrating blue eyes. "Revenge is a powerful motivator, but it's a terrible compass. You need to decide what you actually want, Marcelline."

What I want. For so long, all I wanted was Corwin—to be acknowledged, to be chosen. Now that I've freed myself from that particular delusion, I feel strangely untethered.

"I want what he took from me," I finally say. "My dignity. My career. Ten years of opportunities I missed because I was too busy cleaning up his messes and waiting for a future that was never coming."

Alaric nods slowly. "Then that's what we'll get you."

My phone buzzes—Rebecca, still technically Corwin's executive assistant, though I suspect not for much longer.

"He's going ballistic," she says without preamble. "The Montgomery family pulled their eight-figure investment, two board members have resigned, and the SEC just arrived with subpoenas. He fired three people this morning for 'disloyalty,' including me."

"I'm sorry, Rebecca," I say, genuinely meaning it. She was always kind to me, even when she didn't understand my role in Corwin's life.

"Don't be. I've already accepted Mr. Donovan's offer," she replies, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "Just thought you'd want to know—Elysia's here. And she looks ready for war."

After she hangs up, I relay the information to Alaric, who raises an eyebrow. "Elysia Montgomery isn't someone to underestimate. She comes from political royalty—they don't raise their daughters to forgive and forget."

"Good," I say, surprising myself with the vehemence in my voice. "He deserves everything coming to him."

Alaric studies me for a moment. "You loved him for a long time."

It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "I thought I did. Now I realize I loved a version of him that never existed."

His phone chimes with a message. "The Blake Industries board meeting is in an hour. Our source says they're likely to suspend Corwin pending investigation." He stands, straightening his impeccable suit. "Care to watch a king fall from his throne?"

We take his private car to a restaurant across from Blake Industries headquarters. From our table by the window, we have a perfect view of the gleaming tower that bears Corwin's family name—a name that might not remain on the building much longer.

"You've been planning this for a while," I observe as Alaric orders champagne. Not a question.

"Corwin Blake has been my competitor for fifteen years," he says, his expression unreadable. "But my interest became personal when I discovered how he treated you."

This surprises me. "You hardly knew me six months ago."

A slight smile touches his lips. "I knew of you. The brilliant strategist behind his success. The woman who should have been running that company instead of covering for his incompetence."

The champagne arrives, and Alaric raises his glass. "To new beginnings."

Before I can respond, my phone lights up with breaking news alerts. Across the street, a flurry of activity erupts at the building entrance as reporters gather.

"It's happening," I murmur, opening the live feed.

The scene unfolds like something from a movie—Corwin exiting the building, surrounded by security, his face a mask of barely controlled rage as reporters shout questions. The crawl at the bottom of the screen reads: "BLAKE INDUSTRIES CEO TEMPORARILY STEPS DOWN AMID SCANDAL."

"Temporarily," Alaric scoffs. "They're just softening the blow for the shareholders. He's done."

I should feel triumphant. This is what I wanted—to watch him lose everything, just as I once feared losing everything for him. Instead, I feel oddly hollow, as though I'm watching a stranger's downfall.

My contemplation is interrupted when the restaurant door flies open, and Elysia Montgomery storms in, her gaze laser-focused on our table. Gone is the perfect society bride; in her place stands a woman transformed by fury, elegant even in her rage.

"You," she says, stopping at our table. "You destroyed my wedding, humiliated me in front of everyone who matters in this city, and now you're celebrating?"

I meet her eyes steadily. "I didn't destroy your wedding, Elysia. Corwin did that when he lied to both of us."

"You could have told me privately," she hisses. "Woman to woman. Instead, you chose public destruction."

"Would you have believed me?" I ask quietly. "Or would you have dismissed me as a jealous nobody trying to ruin your perfect match?"

Something flickers in her eyes—recognition, perhaps. She glances at Alaric, then back to me.

"You think you've won," she says, her voice lowered but no less intense. "But Corwin isn't the only one with resources and connections. You made an enemy of the Montgomery family. Remember that."

As she turns to leave, I call after her, "He would have made you miserable, Elysia. I did you a favor."

She pauses, her back to me. "That wasn't your decision to make."

After she's gone, Alaric watches me carefully. "Are you alright?"

"She has every right to be angry," I admit. "I didn't just expose Corwin; I exposed her to ridicule too."

"Collateral damage," Alaric says, though not unkindly. "In war, there are always innocent casualties."

My phone buzzes again—this time with a call from Corwin himself. I stare at his name on the screen, memories flooding back of all the times I'd drop everything to answer his call.

"Are you going to take it?" Alaric asks.

I silence the phone. "He has nothing I want to hear."

Across the street, the media frenzy intensifies as more executives exit the building. The news ticker updates: "BLAKE INDUSTRIES ANNOUNCES INTERNAL INVESTIGATION; SHARES CONTINUE TO PLUMMET."

"What happens now?" I ask, turning back to Alaric.

"Now," he says, his eyes gleaming with something that might be admiration, "we move to phase two. Blake Industries will need new leadership once the dust settles. Someone who understands the company's workings but wasn't part of Corwin's inner circle."

"You want to take over his company?" I ask, surprised by the ambition.

Alaric shakes his head slowly. "Not me. You."

The champagne glass nearly slips from my fingers. "Me? That's impossible. The board would never—"

"The board is desperate," he interrupts. "Half of them knew about Corwin's indiscretions—both professional and personal—and looked the other way. They need someone clean but knowledgeable to right the ship." He leans forward, his intensity magnetic. "Who better than the woman who exposed the corruption? The brilliant strategist who worked in the shadows while Corwin took the credit?"

For a moment, I allow myself to imagine it—sitting in Corwin's chair, making the decisions, no longer the silent partner but the visible leader.

"Why would you help me claim your competitor's company?" I ask, still skeptical.

"Because," Alaric says with a small smile, "I'd rather have you as an ally than an enemy. And because watching you take what Corwin valued most would be the perfect final act of this particular drama."

My phone lights up again—another call from Corwin, then immediately a text: *Please, Marcelline. We need to talk. I can explain everything.*

I turn the phone face down on the table and raise my champagne glass to Alaric. "To the fall of the king," I say, my voice steadier than I feel.

As our glasses clink, I catch my reflection in the window—a woman I'm just beginning to recognize, emerging from a decade of shadows into her own light.