Chapter 4: Crown of Thorns
The courtroom was colder than I expected.
Rows of press, shareholders, and family lawyers filled the gallery. A large banner behind the bench read GRANT CORPORATION: SHAREHOLDER TRANSITION HEARING in gold script.
This wasn't just a court proceeding. It was a coronation in disguise.
Naomi stood beside me, adjusting the lapel of my deep navy blazer. "Remember," she said, her voice crisp and calm. "You don't flinch. You don't bow. You are a Grant."
I nodded, though my palms were slick with sweat.
Lucian stepped into the room moments later, dressed in a sharp black suit, his presence turning heads like a thunderclap.
He moved beside me without a word and reached for my hand.
His grip was steady. Grounding. Warm.
"You ready?" he asked.
I didn't hesitate.
"I was born ready. I just forgot for a while."
---
"Court is now in session," the magistrate announced. "The matter of Ava Grant's status and inheritance will now be formally reviewed."
Gasps echoed through the gallery.
Even after three days of media frenzy, people still hadn't believed it was real.
They thought I was a gold-digger. A placeholder. A well-groomed stand-in for the real Ava Grant.
But I was here to burn that image to ash.
The judge continued. "Based on evidence submitted by Grant Corporation, including hospital records, birth certificates, DNA verification, and first-hand testimony from legal witnesses, this court recognizes Ava Grant as the direct biological heir of Sophia Grant."
Murmurs. Gasps. Phones clicking.
"Effective immediately, Ava Grant will assume all rights and privileges entitled to her as successor to the Grant family holdings."
I didn't breathe.
I didn't move.
Until Lucian turned his head slightly toward me and whispered, "Claim your throne."
---
I stood slowly, heels clicking against the marble floor like war drums.
Then I looked toward the back of the courtroom — and saw them.
The Dawsons.
All of them.
Harold and Evelyn sat stiff in the gallery, white-knuckled, their perfect masks cracking.
Lily sat beside them, pale and wide-eyed, clutching her pearl purse like it was a lifeline.
And Daniel...
He looked like he'd swallowed poison.
I smiled — just slightly.
Then turned away.
Let them watch.
Let them realize I was the one they threw away… and I was now standing where none of them ever could.
---
After the hearing, I walked out into a storm of reporters, cameras flashing like lightning.
"Miss Grant, how does it feel to be recognized as heiress?"
"Is it true you were hidden for 18 years?"
"What's your response to the Dawson family's public statement calling this 'a misunderstanding'?"
I stopped. Lucian glanced at me — a silent question.
Then I turned to the crowd and smiled.
"It feels like justice," I said clearly. "I was hidden. Lied to. Betrayed. But I'm not here to talk about the past. I'm here to build the future."
"And the Dawsons?" someone shouted.
I tilted my head.
"They chose their truth. I'm just living mine."
---
That night, Lucian took me to a rooftop dinner.
It wasn't fancy. No cameras. No staff. Just string lights and two wine glasses catching the city glow.
He poured for me without asking.
"You didn't have to do this," I said, watching him. "The dinner, the rooftop, the... humanity."
"You didn't have to become the Ava Grant I needed," he replied. "But you did."
I looked out over the skyline, pulse still racing from the day.
"I never realized how easy it is to feel powerful," I whispered. "When everyone's finally looking at you like you matter."
Lucian turned toward me, voice low.
"People like us… we don't get handed crowns. We have to steal them, bleed for them, and wear them like they're made of thorns."
"And you think I can do that?"
"I think you already are."
---
We sat in silence for a while.
But even silence had weight when Lucian Grant was nearby.
Then, softly, he asked, "Do you hate them?"
I didn't ask who. He didn't need to specify.
"I thought I did," I said. "I wanted to. But now? I just want them to see me."
Lucian nodded. "That's worse than hate. That's power."
His words stirred something dark and thrilling in me.
I didn't want revenge to feel good.
But it did.
---
Later that night, as I stepped into my suite, Naomi handed me an envelope.
"This came from a courier," she said. "No return address."
I opened it cautiously.
Inside was a single photo.
Old. Faded.
Me, as a child, sitting in a garden I didn't recognize.
Next to a woman who wasn't Evelyn Dawson.
On the back, in looping cursive:
"The garden was always your safe place. Come find it again."
There was no name.
Only an address.
Lucian walked in as I was staring at it.
"Something wrong?" he asked.
I hesitated. "I think someone's trying to help me."
"Or lead you into a trap."
"I need to know."
He studied the photo, then nodded once.
"Then we go together."
---
[End of Chapter 4]