Chapter 10 - THE QUEEN'S REIGN
At eight-thirty that evening, the high-floor executive suite of Lombra Global in Midtown Manhattan was quiet.
The floor-to-ceiling glass windows offered a three-hundred-sixty-degree view of the gleaming lights of New York City—a grid of gold, silver, and blue stretching all the way from Central Park to the Financial District.
Eleanor stood by the glass, holding a glass of sparkling water.
Her image was reflected in the dark window pane—poised, elegant, absolute.
A quiet knock sounded at the heavy oak door of her office.
"Come in," she said softly.
Henri stepped inside, followed by Jean-Luc Dubois. The French designer was wearing a sharp velvet blazer and carried a leather-bound sketchbook under his arm.
"Eleanor, my dear!" Dubois beamed, stepping across the silk carpet to kiss both of her cheeks. "The Tokyo show was just covered by Architectural Digest as the most iconic fashion moment of the decade! We have three thousand advance orders for the autumn line!"
"Congratulations, Jean-Luc," Eleanor said with a warm, genuine smile. "I always knew your talent was unmatched when you weren't bound by cheap corporate debt."
"And it is all thanks to you," Dubois said softly, taking a seat on the leather sofa. "You saved my house. You gave me back my voice."
"No," Eleanor corrected him quietly, looking back out at the city lights. "We saved each other. You gave me the stage I needed to end a farce."
Henri pulled a sleek velvet box from his pocket and set it on Eleanor's desk.
"Madame," Henri said. "This arrived from the jeweler in Geneva today."
Eleanor walked over to the desk and flipped open the velvet lid.
Inside rested a pair of cufflinks.
They were cast in pure, brushed white platinum, sculpted into the shape of two delicate, beautifully detailed orchid blossoms. In the center of each flower sat a single, flawless three-carat emerald that burned with a deep, green fire under the office lights.
She picked one up, feeling its cool weight in her palm.
"They are magnificent," Dubois remarked, leaning over to admire them. "A symbol of growth?"
"No," Eleanor said, holding the platinum orchid up to the light of the New York skyline, her green eyes reflecting the city below.
"A symbol of survival."
She closed the velvet box with a firm, satisfying snap.
She didn't need to look back at the past. She didn't need revenge anymore. Alexander Keelin was gone—a tiny, forgotten footnote in the vast, complex algorithm of her life.
She walked to her desk, picked up her leather portfolio, and turned off the main light of her office.
May you like
As the heavy mahogany door clicked shut behind her, the city lights continued to burn bright outside—shining down on an empire that was finally, completely, hers.
THE END
