The world watched Elira Quinn burn the Blackwood legacy down with nothing but her truth and the daughter in her arms.
Clips of her testimony looped through news cycles. Her soft voice, unshaken even when recalling chains and blindfolds, captivated a global audience. She didn’t cry. Didn’t flinch. She stood in that tribunal like a storm wearing a smile.
And in that moment, power changed hands.
From old money to a new mother.
From corrupt dynasties to broken survivors.
Some called her brave.
Others called her dangerous.
Loretta Blackwood called her an inconvenience.
In her private Monte Carlo lounge, Loretta’s fingers tightened around a diamond-stemmed wine glass as she watched the broadcast. Her lawyer stood stiffly behind her, pale and sweating.
“We underestimated her,” he muttere
