Chapter 6 Ultimate Revenge, Indulging in Sweetness

# Chapter 6: Ultimate Revenge, Indulging in Sweetness

"Are you ready for this?" Martin asked, adjusting his tie in the mirror of our shared hotel suite.

Six months had passed since the dramatic confrontation that revealed my true identity and brought the Wei empire crumbling down. Six months of depositions, evidence reviews, medical recovery, and family reconnection.

Six months of Martin and I navigating our complicated relationship—cousins by blood who had developed feelings that were decidedly un-cousinly before discovering our connection.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I replied, smoothing down my cream Chanel suit—authentic, of course. "Though I still think the press conference is excessive."

"Nothing excessive about public accountability," Martin countered. "Victoria and Eleanor Wei didn't just harm our family—they committed securities fraud, identity theft, conspiracy, and attempted murder. The world deserves to know the truth."

He had a point. The story had already leaked in fragments—tech billionaire's father returns from the dead; socialite arrested for decades-old murder plot; fake heiress revealed as kidnapped Chen family heir. The tabloids were having a field day with headlines like "COUNTERFEIT QUEEN TURNS GENUINE HEIRESS."

What remained private, however, was the most shocking revelation of all—one that had rewritten even my newly discovered identity.

DNA testing had confirmed that Martin and I were not biological cousins after all.

My mother, Elizabeth Chen, had adopted me as an infant—a fact documented in records Victoria Wei had suppressed. My biological parentage remained unknown, but one thing was certain: there was no blood connection between Martin and me.

This discovery had unlocked a door neither of us had dared acknowledge existed.

"Your father is waiting downstairs," I reminded Martin, deliberately changing the subject from our personal complications. "He's eager to make his grand re-entry into society."

Joseph Chen's return from presumed death had been the twist no one saw coming—not even Martin. After surviving Victoria's assassination attempt twenty years ago, he had gone into deep hiding, gathering evidence against the Wei family from the shadows, always searching for his missing sister and her adopted daughter.

"He's enjoying the dramatic aspect a bit too much," Martin observed dryly. "Two decades in hiding apparently builds up a flair for the theatrical."

I laughed, the sound still somewhat foreign after months of tension. "Must run in the family."

Martin caught my eye in the mirror, his expression softening. "We need to talk about us, Cassandra. After this is over."

My heart skipped. "I know."

A knock at the door saved me from elaborating. Joseph Chen entered, resplendent in a tailored suit, his resemblance to Martin striking despite the silver threading his hair.

"The cars are ready," he announced. "Victoria and Eleanor have arrived at the courthouse with their attorneys."

Today was sentencing day—the culmination of the Wei family's spectacular fall from grace. Victoria had been convicted of attempted murder, fraud, and conspiracy related to the original attempt on Joseph's life. Eleanor, while avoiding the most serious charges through a plea deal, had been found guilty of fraud and evidence tampering.

The Chen family would be making a statement on the courthouse steps afterward, publicly reclaiming our company and announcing the new leadership structure—with me taking my rightful place as a Chen executive.

"Let's not keep justice waiting," I said, gathering my purse.

The courthouse steps were a sea of reporters and cameras. Victoria and Eleanor had arrived minutes earlier, their designer outfits replaced by subdued courtroom attire, their once-imperious expressions now carefully constructed masks of contrition.

As we emerged from our vehicles, the press surged forward. Joseph raised a hand for quiet—a gesture that commanded immediate respect.

"We'll make our statement after the proceedings," he announced. "For now, we ask for privacy as justice takes its course."

Inside the courtroom, I took my seat in the front row beside Martin and Joseph. Victoria and Eleanor sat at the defendant's table, their backs rigid with tension. When Victoria turned and our eyes met, I saw something I never expected—fear.

The woman who had controlled my life, who had discarded me when I was no longer useful, was afraid of me now.

The sentencing was swift and severe. Victoria Wei: eighteen years for her crimes—symbolic justice for the eighteen years she had kept me from my true family. Eleanor: five years with possibility of parole, her cooperation having earned her leniency.

As Victoria was led away, she paused beside our row. "This isn't over," she whispered.

Martin stood, towering over her. "Yes, Victoria. It is."

Outside, Joseph Chen delivered a powerful statement about justice and corporate responsibility, announcing the formal restoration of the Chen family assets and the establishment of a foundation in my mother Elizabeth's name to help victims of identity theft and fraud.

Then Martin stepped forward, his hand finding mine in a gesture that sent the photographers into a frenzy.

"Today marks not just the end of a criminal enterprise, but the beginning of a new chapter for Chen Industries," he announced. "I'm pleased to introduce Cassandra Chen, my father's rightful successor, who will be joining our executive leadership team effective immediately."

The questions flew fast and furious:

"Ms. Chen, how does it feel to discover your true identity?"

"Mr. Chen, will your engagement continue now that your family connection has been revealed?"

"What happens to the Wei fortune now?"

Martin fielded each question with practiced ease until one reporter asked, "What will happen to the Wei estate? Will you be taking possession?"

A smile spread across my face—the first genuine one I'd shown to the press. "Actually, I already own the property. I purchased it this morning."

The reporters erupted in fresh questions as Martin squeezed my hand, a silent acknowledgment of my power move. The Wei mansion—the home I'd been thrown out of in disgrace—was now mine.

"As for its future use," I continued when the clamor subsided, "I'm converting it into a rehabilitation center for victims of fraud and identity theft—people who, like me, need to reclaim their sense of self after having it stolen."

The headlines the next day would call it the ultimate revenge: Cassandra Chen, once the fake heiress, now owned the very mansion from which she'd been expelled.

Three hours later, exhausted from the media circus, I stood in the grand foyer of what had once been the Wei mansion, now emptied of their possessions. Martin joined me, his footsteps echoing on the marble floor.

"Feeling vindicated?" he asked.

"Not vindicated," I corrected. "Reclaimed. There's a difference."

He nodded understanding. "And now that you've reclaimed your past, what about your future?"

The question hung between us, heavy with possibility. Since discovering we weren't related, we'd maintained a careful professional distance, both of us processing the implications.

"I've been thinking about that," I said, turning to face him fully. "Our contract expired last week."

His expression remained carefully neutral. "So it did."

"Six months of pretending to be engaged," I continued. "Six months of public appearances, shared meals, learning to navigate the world of wealth and power together."

"A business arrangement," he agreed, though his eyes told a different story.

"Except somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like business." I took a step closer. "Even before we knew we weren't cousins, I felt something I shouldn't have."

Martin's composure cracked slightly. "As did I."

"And now?" I asked, my heart racing.

"Now there's nothing stopping us," he said softly. "No contract. No blood relation. No Wei family plotting against us."

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small velvet box. Unlike our staged engagement with its publicity-perfect ring, this was private, real.

"I had this made after the DNA results came back," he said, opening the box to reveal a stunning emerald ring. "Not for show. Not for revenge. Just for us—if that's what you want."

The ring was nothing like the flashy diamond from our fake engagement. This was elegant, unique, personal.

"Are you proposing to your fake fiancée?" I asked, unable to suppress a smile.

"I'm proposing to the woman who sold counterfeit handbags with more integrity than most people sell their souls," he corrected. "The woman who faced down a murderer to save my life. The woman who's shown more courage and adaptability than anyone I've ever known."

He took my hand. "Our beginning may have been built on false pretenses, but what I feel for you now is the most genuine thing in my life."

I looked at the ring, then back at him. "You realize this makes for an extremely complicated family tree to explain to our future children."

His eyes widened slightly. "Children?"

"Eventually," I clarified, enjoying his momentary discomposure. "After I've established myself at Chen Industries and we've had time to properly scandalize New York society with our relationship."

Martin's laugh echoed through the empty mansion—a sound of pure joy I'd never heard from him before. "Is that a yes, then?"

I held out my hand. "It's a yes."

As he slipped the ring onto my finger—a perfect fit, because Martin Chen left nothing to chance—I reflected on the journey that had brought us here. From fake heiress to counterfeit seller to genuine Chen. From business arrangement to real love.

"What are you thinking?" Martin asked, drawing me close.

"That sometimes the most authentic things come from the most unexpected places," I replied, leaning into his embrace.

Three years later, I stood at the entrance of "The Authenticity Project," the foundation I'd established in the former Wei mansion. What had once been a monument to wealth and status was now a center helping people reclaim their identities after fraud, offering legal assistance, counseling, and vocational training.

Beside me, Martin balanced our ten-month-old daughter on his hip. Lily Elizabeth Chen had her father's observant eyes and her mother's determined chin—a perfect blend of our shared stubbornness.

"Ms. Chen?" A staff member approached. "Your eleven o'clock is here."

I nodded, handing my clipboard to Martin. "Can you finish the tour without me? This meeting is important."

"Of course." He kissed me quickly. "We'll meet you for lunch afterward."

In my office—formerly Victoria Wei's private sitting room—I reviewed the file one last time before my visitor was shown in.

Eleanor Wei had been released from prison two weeks ago after serving three years of her five-year sentence. According to her parole officer, she had been a model prisoner, completing therapy and educational programs. Now she needed employment—a condition of her release.

She entered my office with none of her former arrogance, her designer clothes replaced by simple business attire, her once-perfect manicure now plain and practical.

"Cassandra," she greeted me cautiously. "Thank you for seeing me."

"It's Ms. Chen here," I corrected gently. "Please, sit down."

She took the offered chair, eyes darting around the transformed room. "You've done amazing things with this place."

"We help about two hundred people a year," I confirmed. "People who need to rebuild their identities after having them stolen or compromised."

Eleanor nodded, her gaze finally settling on me. "Like you."

"Like me," I agreed. "Though my journey was unusual."

An uncomfortable silence stretched between us until Eleanor spoke again. "I know I have no right to ask for anything from you. What my mother and I did—"

"Was criminal, cruel, and ultimately self-defeating," I finished for her. "But that's not why you're here today."

I slid a folder across the desk to her. "This is a job offer. Entry-level position in our client services department. Minimum wage to start. You'll be working directly with fraud victims, helping them navigate the same system that you and your mother once exploited."

Her eyes widened in shock. "You're offering me a job? Why?"

"Because everyone deserves a second chance to be authentic," I replied. "Even former fake heiresses."

Eleanor's eyes filled with tears—genuine emotion breaking through the Wei façade for perhaps the first time in her life. "I don't deserve your forgiveness."

"This isn't forgiveness," I clarified. "It's opportunity. What you make of it is up to you."

Later that afternoon, I watched from my office window as Eleanor Wei—now Employee #347 at The Authenticity Project—handed out information packets to new clients arriving for orientation. Her mother remained in prison, unrepentant and still occasionally sending threats that her lawyers promptly disavowed.

Martin appeared beside me, sliding an arm around my waist. "Satisfied with your revenge?"

I leaned against him, watching Eleanor patiently explain forms to an elderly victim of identity theft. "This isn't revenge anymore. It's redemption."

"For her or for you?" he asked softly.

"Both, I think." I turned in his embrace. "The fake heiress and the real heiress—both finding our authentic selves in the aftermath."

"Speaking of authenticity," Martin said with a smile, "Lily just tried to purchase a yacht online with my tablet. I think she has your talent for spending money."

I laughed. "And your talent for aiming high. A yacht? Not even a starter speedboat?"

As we walked through the halls of what had once been my prison and was now my purpose, I reflected on the strange journey that had brought me here. From counterfeit to genuine. From revenge to redemption. From isolation to family.

Martin caught my thoughtful expression. "Regrets?"

"Not one," I answered honestly. "Every fake step led me to something real."

Outside, the sign for "The Authenticity Project" caught the afternoon sun, the tagline gleaming beneath it: "Discover Your True Value."

I had certainly discovered mine.