Chapter 4 Cancel the Trap

Eleanor stood in the sleek conference room of her father's company, her phone pressed to her ear as she delivered the decisive order. "Cancel the board meeting. Yes, the one tomorrow. No announcements, no explanations-just make it happen." The executive assistant on the other end hesitated, her voice laced with confusion, but Eleanor's tone was firm, unyielding. "Do it now. I'll deal with the consequences."

She ended the call, her pulse racing with a heady mix of defiance and triumph. The board meeting-a high-stakes gathering of the company's top investors and executives-was no ordinary event. In her previous life, it had been the stage where Cedric and Marianne had tightened their grip on her father's empire, publicly questioning her competence and sidelining her influence. By canceling it without warning, she'd derailed their carefully laid plans, sowing chaos that would force them to reveal their weaknesses. Let them fume. Let them scramble. She was done being their pawn.

Her phone lit up with notifications-texts from executives, investors, and, predictably, Cedric, his messages sharp with irritation: What's going on? Call me. She ignored them, slipping the phone into her purse and striding out of the building. The city pulsed around her, unaware of the storm she'd unleashed. For the first time since her rebirth, she felt the scales tipping in her favor, the weight of her past failures easing with each step.

****

By midday, the news had spread like wildfire. Corporate group chats buzzed with speculation, and financial blogs were already dissecting the "abrupt cancellation" of Varnholt Enterprises' critical board meeting. Eleanor sat at a quiet café, sipping an espresso as she scrolled through the chatter on her tablet, a faint smile playing on her lips. Confusion. Outrage. Exactly what she'd intended.

Her moment of calm was interrupted when the café door swung open, and Marianne stormed in, her designer bag swinging, her face a storm of barely concealed anger. "Eleanor, what the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded, stopping at the table, her voice low but dripping with venom. "Canceling the board meeting? Do you realize how this looks? The investors are furious, Cedric's fielding calls from every major shareholder, and I-" She faltered, her eyes narrowing. "You're sabotaging everything."

Eleanor set her cup down, her expression cool, almost amused. "Sabotaging? That's a strong word, Marianne. I'm just... reprioritizing." Her voice was smooth, each syllable laced with quiet confidence. "I'm the acting chair of the board. I don't need to run my decisions by you. Or Cedric."

Marianne's jaw tightened, her composure fraying. "This isn't you," she said, her tone shifting to a practiced softness, the one she'd used for years to manipulate. "You've always been so careful, so dedicated to the company. Why would you throw it all into chaos like this?"

Eleanor's gaze hardened, her mind flashing to the Marianne who'd stood over her dying body, her smile cold and triumphant. That betrayal fueled her now, sharpening her resolve. She leaned forward, her voice a low, cutting whisper.

"Maybe I'm done playing by your rules. Maybe I'm tired of being the convenient stepping stone for you and Cedric. You should get used to it, Marianne. Things are changing."

The words hit their mark. Marianne's eyes widened, a flicker of uncertainty breaking through her facade. She recovered quickly, forcing a tight smile. "Ellie, let's not fight. We can fix this-reschedule the meeting, spin it as a strategic pause-"

"No." Eleanor's voice was a blade, slicing through Marianne's plea. She stood, her tailored coat and sharp heels giving her an air of unshakable authority. "The meeting's off. And if you're wise, you'll stop assuming you know me."

Marianne stared, momentarily speechless, as Eleanor grabbed her purse and walked out, the café door chiming softly behind her. The confrontation had been a gamble, but it felt like a triumph. She'd silenced Marianne, planted a seed of doubt. Let her wonder what Eleanor knew, what she was planning next.

As she stepped into the busy street, a memory surged, pulling her back to the gala from a year ago-the one she'd relived just days ago, on April 17, 2024.

****

The ballroom glittered with chandeliers and champagne flutes, the air thick with ambition. Eleanor had worn a soft lavender dress, chosen to match Cedric's tie, her smile warm as she greeted guests. The Varnholt Foundation's gala was her pride, a showcase of her family's legacy. She'd poured months into it, believing it would strengthen her bond with Cedric, prove her worth as his partner.

But Cedric's speech had shattered her. From the stage, he'd praised her "heart of gold" while subtly mocking her as impractical, his words cloaked in charm. The crowd's laughter had stung, their murmurs cutting deeper: "She's sweet, but not leadership material." "Cedric's the one holding it together." Marianne had been there, radiant at Cedric's side, steering allies away from Eleanor with a smile. That night, the board meeting was announced, setting the stage for her final humiliation-a meeting where Cedric had presented "concerns" about her leadership, sealing her irrelevance.

****

Eleanor blinked, the memory fading as a taxi honked nearby. Her hands clenched, the sting of that betrayal still sharp. The gala had been the first blow, but the board meeting had been the trap that crushed her. In her previous life, she'd walked into it blindly, trusting Cedric's assurances. Not this time. By canceling it, she'd dismantled their platform before they could use it against her.

Her phone buzzed again-Cedric, his text sharper now: This is unacceptable. Where are you? She ignored it, her focus shifting to her next move. The financial files she'd copied from Cedric's server were a weapon, but she needed the perfect moment to wield them. And Julian Kane, the ally she'd contacted, was set to meet her tomorrow. If he joined her, she'd have a partner who knew Cedric's playbook inside out.

As she flagged a cab, her mind raced. The meeting's cancellation would push Cedric and Marianne to react, to slip up. She'd watch, wait, and strike when they were exposed. Every move brought her closer to her vow: I will ruin you both.

The cab pulled away, the city blurring past. Eleanor leaned back, her face calm but her eyes burning with purpose. The trap was gone, and she was rewriting the game.

To be continued...