Chapter 9
600words
"What changed your mind?"
"I'll do anything," she whispered. "Just say yes, and everything I have is yours."
"What if I've changed my terms?"
I took a long drag from my cigarette. Miranda rushed forward, cupping her hands beneath it to catch the ash.
"Here, use my hands," she urged.
The burning ember seared her palm red, but she didn't flinch or make a sound.
"Name your price. Anything."
"I'll take your operation, such as it is," I said coolly. "But you must walk away completely."
"What?"
Her eyes widened in horror.
Walking away meant abandoning everything she'd built over a lifetime.
"Surely we can negotiate this point?"
"Of course. In that case, I'm no longer interested. Find another buyer."
"Security, show Ms. Moore out."
"Wait! I'll do it! I'll walk away!"
She dropped to her knees, frantically massaging my legs like a servant.
The Moore Gang was so damaged that no one else would touch it, and even if they did, they couldn't resurrect it.
If she wanted any part of her legacy to survive, I was her only option.
"Are you certain? The Moore Gang will cease to exist. Your name will be erased from its history."
Pain flashed across her face, but she nodded firmly.
"It doesn't matter. None of it matters anymore."
"Please, just take it."
"I'm begging you."
She pressed her forehead to the floor at my feet.
When I didn't respond, panic overtook her.
"Please! Do whatever you want with me, just don't let everything I built disappear!"
She knocked her head against the floor until blood streamed down her face. Only then did I take the papers from her trembling hands.
She didn't dare show anything but gratitude, though her eyes burned with hatred.
"Thank you," she whispered.
The Moore Gang was officially absorbed into the Johnson Gang. Miranda Moore ceased to exist in our world.
That night, Miranda stood outside her former headquarters until dawn, a ghost at her own funeral.
In a single day, she'd lost everything she'd spent her life building.
Alex was the first to congratulate me on my victory.
"Congratulations."
I deleted his message without replying.
It wasn't until I returned home that I discovered I already had a fiancé.
Grandfather introduced me to Jason Sinclair, whose eyes welled with tears at the sight of me.
I realized then that there had been someone waiting for me all along—someone who had known since childhood we were meant to be together.
"The choice is yours," Grandfather said. "If you want him, the engagement stands. If not, we'll cancel it."
"But since you're unattached now, perhaps you could give him a chance."
Jason stood frozen, staring at me, the tips of his ears burning red as he nervously rubbed his nose.
"I've loved you forever," he said softly. "You can't imagine how it felt watching you fall for Alex, seeing you give him everything."
His words stunned me. I reached out and touched his shoulder gently.
I remembered Jason then—the little boy who had followed me everywhere as a child.
We'd played house together, me as the mother, him as the father.
In the weeks that followed, Jason and I grew closer.
We fit together perfectly. He could read my thoughts from the smallest change in my expression.
Once again, he anticipated my needs before I voiced them.
"It's uncanny how well you know me," I said, genuinely impressed.
"I've been studying you my whole life," he admitted with a shy smile.
