Elena had thought the hardest part was over. She had found the truth. She had exposed Lucas. She had stepped into the light after living in the shadows for so long.
But in the world of the Moreaus, truth was never a sword—it was bait.
The media firestorm had made her infamous overnight. Headlines painted her as both victim and avenger. Her inbox was flooded with interview requests, book deals, even documentary offers. The public was hungry for drama, and Elena had unwittingly become a character in the very saga she had hoped to escape.
But Lucas had not retaliated publicly. He had gone silent. That terrified her more than any press attack would have.
"He's planning something," Elena told Camille as they walked through the university courtyard.
Camille, ever the pragmatic best friend, nodded. "Lucas isn't the kind of man to surrender. He's recalibrating. You struck first. Now he'll aim to end it."
"I don't want a war," Elena whispered.
"You're in one. Whether you want it or not."
Elena looked at her hands. "It's not just about me anymore. It's about Adrien. And my mother. They were both destroyed by him."
Camille squeezed her arm. "Then it's time you stop fighting like a scared girl. Start thinking like a Moreau."
---
Elena's next move was bold.
She arranged a meeting with the board of the Moreau Foundation—a meeting Lucas had missed for the first time in a decade.
She walked into the grand conference room dressed in her mother's vintage cream coat, flanked by Villeneuve and a new legal aide. The room, a blend of walnut wood and glass, felt like a cathedral of money. Twelve board members sat around the oval table, all older, all male.
Except one.
An elegant woman with silver-streaked hair and shrewd eyes watched Elena with quiet curiosity. Juliette Fournier—the late Adrien's closest advisor. Rumors once whispered she had been more than that.
"Elena Laurent," the chairman began, glancing at the file in front of him. "Your petition is… unusual."
"I'm not here to request power," Elena said. "I'm here to reclaim what was stolen."
Juliette tilted her head. "And you have proof?"
Elena placed the contract on the table, followed by a printed transcript of Adrien's video.
One by one, they read. Some scoffed. Some frowned. A few leaned forward.
When they finished, Elena said, "Adrien Moreau named me his daughter. Lucas Moreau buried that truth for his benefit. Now I'm asking this board to consider removing him as acting president until an independent inquiry can be completed."
Silence.
Then Juliette said, "I always suspected Lucas forged that addendum. Adrien was too careful to entrust him without safeguards."
The chairman cleared his throat. "This is not a court, Miss Laurent. But we cannot ignore the evidence. We'll vote in 48 hours. You'll be notified."
Elena nodded. "Thank you."
As she turned to leave, Juliette called out softly, "Your mother would be proud."
---
That night, Elena returned to her apartment to find the door unlocked.
She froze.
No lights on. No noise.
Slowly, she stepped inside, her fingers brushing her phone, ready to dial.
But she wasn't alone.
A figure stood near the window, silhouetted against the city lights.
"Adrien?" she gasped.
He turned.
It wasn't Adrien.
It was Lucas.
"Security is weaker than I expected," he said calmly. "Then again, you've never been good at watching your back."
"Get out," she snapped, heart racing.
"I came to talk," he said, holding up his hands. "Just talk."
Elena didn't move. "You broke into my home."
"I built this empire," he said, stepping forward. "And you're tearing it down on the word of a dead man."
"Your brother."
Lucas's face tightened. "Adrien had vision, but no discipline. He'd have burned this family to the ground for a cause."
"Maybe that's what it needs."
He chuckled dryly. "You really think the board will vote me out? You think a contract and a sentiment-laced video are enough?"
Elena looked him in the eye. "It's already happening, Lucas. You're losing control."
He smiled faintly. "Control is never lost. It's traded."
Before she could ask what he meant, he reached into his coat and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
"What's that?"
He placed it on her table. "A copy of the letter your mother wrote to me. The night before she died."
Elena unfolded it.
The handwriting was unmistakably Amara's. The letter was brief, but haunting:
"Lucas—protect her. Not because you have to, but because she is more than Adrien's child. She is the future of the family you're trying to save from itself. If anything happens to me, keep her safe. Keep her strong."
It wasn't legal. But it was… real.
"She trusted me," Lucas said softly. "In her final days. And I honored that, even if it meant making enemies of ghosts."
"You also made me your pawn," Elena replied. "That ends now."
Lucas picked up his coat. "You've declared war. Just remember—war doesn't end when you win. It ends when you lose what matters most."
And with that, he left.
---
The next morning, Elena received an encrypted message from an anonymous email.
It contained two files.
One: A security log of visits to Adrien's last known location—a private cabin in the Alps.
Two: A flight log showing Lucas had visited the area three months after Adrien was declared dead.
She forwarded the files to Villeneuve.
Within an hour, he called her.
"Elena… we need to talk. Now."
---
They met in his office.
Villeneuve slammed the files onto the desk. "This isn't just about a contract anymore. It's about conspiracy."
"You think Adrien was alive until recently?"
"I think Lucas knew. And possibly… ensured he stayed gone."
Elena felt a cold wave sweep over her. "You think Lucas had him killed?"
Villeneuve didn't answer directly.
He just said, "We need to find the cabin. If there's any proof Adrien was alive recently, it could turn the tide permanently."
---
Two days later, Elena boarded a flight to Switzerland with Camille and Villeneuve.
They reached the cabin after six hours of winding roads and snow-covered hills. It was isolated, hidden, and pristine.
Inside, the furniture was intact. The fireplace cold. But the logs still held soot—someone had used it in recent months.
On the desk lay a journal.
Elena opened it. Adrien's handwriting covered the pages—notes, thoughts, sketches.
The last entry was dated just four months ago.
"She's close. I feel it. Lucas will know soon. I only hope Elena finds the truth before he does."
Tears slipped down Elena's cheeks.
He had been alive.
And now, he was gone. For real this time.
Outside, Camille's voice called out, "Elena—you need to see this!"
She rushed out. Camille pointed to a tree near the cabin. Carved into its bark, fresh and deep, were the initials:
A + A
Amara and Adrien.
Elena touched the carving.
"They never stopped loving each other," she whispered.
"And now," Villeneuve said gently, "it's your turn to carry that love forward. Not just in memory. But in justice."
---
Back in Paris, the board vote was cast.
Lucas was suspended pending investigation.
Elena was offered a provisional seat—as Adrien's heir.
As she sat in her father's old chair, looking over the vast city below, she knew the war wasn't over.
But for the first time, she wasn't hiding.
She was leading.
And the world would finally hear her voice.