The morning sun struck the Vale Corporation tower like a blade, cutting through the skyline with gleaming steel.
Inside, Damien Vale stood in his office, arms crossed, staring at the city below. He rarely did this — rarely paused. But Elara Voss had disrupted that routine.
She was only sixteen. Yet the girl had traces of brilliance that shouldn't exist in someone so young. Her trades, her investments, her audacity — and worst of all, her charm. Something about her reminded him of a memory he didn't have… or perhaps wished he could forget.
His assistant, Harper, cleared her throat. "Sir, you have another message. Same sender — Miss Voss."
Damien didn't respond immediately. Finally, he said, "Show me."
The screen lit up:
Elara: I assume you were the one tracing my trades.
Damien: Observing. Only fools underestimate the market.
Elara: I never underestimate anything — except betrayal.
Damien: That's rich, coming from someone your age.
Damien frowned. He had to know: was she merely precocious… or something else entirely?
Elara: Consider this a warning: don't try to control what you don't understand.
He shut the screen.
Something about the girl unsettled him. Not fear. Not irritation. Something deeper — like watching a storm forming, one that could drown or cleanse everything in its path.
_____
Meanwhile, across the city, Elara's day had begun at the St. Clarion Academy with an efficiency that would have impressed any adult CEO.
Her first stop: the academy's finance club.
The club, full of aspiring young magnates, had once been a place of idle chatter. Today, it became her laboratory. She handed out faux stock tips, guiding students through trades she already knew would succeed.
One by one, she observed results: small gains, confidence growing in her followers. Each success was a lesson, each lesson a step toward the empire she would build.
"Miss Voss," whispered a boy named Julian, "how do you always know which trades to pick?"
Elara smiled faintly. "Luck, mostly. But luck favors preparation."
He nodded, taking notes.
_____
Later that afternoon, she attended a luncheon hosted by Lyra, her stepsister, ostensibly a social call. In reality, it was an opportunity to gather intelligence.
Lyra's friends laughed loudly, sipping champagne and gossiping.
Elara's gaze swept the room, noting financial advisors, politicians, and tech investors — all potential allies or obstacles.
"You're quiet today," Lyra teased. "Not plotting, I hope?"
Elara's smile was angelic. "I only plot kindness, sister."
Lyra snorted. "Be careful. The world isn't kind to women who think too much."
Elara's thoughts flickered to Damien Vale. Yes, the world wasn't kind. But she had other plans now — plans that included a young man who could see through steel walls and a stepsister who didn't yet know she was doomed.
_____
As the day waned, Elara returned home. Her father was in his study again, reviewing merger documents.
"Father," she began, carefully neutral, "about the ValeCorp merger…"
Adrian looked up. "Yes?"
"I think we should delay," she said. "They're hiding liabilities. Small, but dangerous."
Her father raised a brow. "Do you have proof?"
"Not yet," she said smoothly. "But I intend to find it."
Her father sighed, rubbing his forehead. "You're a persistent one, aren't you?"
"Yes," she said softly. "Because our family deserves protection."
He studied her, something unspoken passing in his gaze. "Be careful, Elara. The world will try to chew you up."
"I've already learned how to fight," she said, almost whispering.
____
Night came, and with it, a quiet storm.
Elara's journal lay open on her desk, alongside Finn's reports on ValeCorp's subsidiaries. Every day, she refined her plan: investments, alliances, manipulations. And every day, Damien Vale hovered somewhere in the background, a shadow she couldn't yet reach — and a danger she could not ignore.
She typed a message to Finn:
Elara: Prepare the analysis for ValeCorp. We'll need a strategy before anyone notices.
Finn replied almost instantly:
Finn: Already on it. This girl… you? You're insane.
Elara smiled. Good. Insanity and ambition were often twins.
____
Meanwhile, at ValeCorp headquarters, Damien's curiosity had turned to obsession.
He had asked his team to review Voss family investments, looking for patterns, anomalies — anything unusual in the young girl's trading history.
The results were… alarming.
Her trades weren't just accurate — they were predictive with a precision that suggested insider knowledge, but the girl had no access.
Damien frowned. He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the polished desk.
"She's dangerous," he muttered. "Not because of age, not because of skill… but because she knows too much. She might already know about me."
He paused, staring out the window at the city. The wind whipped against the glass.
And for the first time in years, Damien Vale considered a child a legitimate threat.
____
Back at the Voss estate, Elara sat at her balcony, the city lights sparkling below. She traced a finger along the railing, thinking of Damien Vale, of her stepsister, of the empire she was building one move at a time.
A thought occurred — one that made her pulse quicken.
She had survived death once.
And now, she had knowledge of ten years.
Every ally, every enemy, every obstacle — she could anticipate them all.
Damien Vale might be the only variable she couldn't fully control.
And yet… there was a thrill in that. A storm forming on the horizon, ready to test her.
She whispered to herself, voice steady, eyes bright with resolve:
"I will rise.
I will conquer.
And I will make him remember me."
The game had begun — and the first pieces were already in motion.