Maeve’s POV
The morning edition of the city’s arts and commerce section was a fücking masterpiece of public humiliation. Clara Vance-Vane had gone for the throat. The front page screamed with a striking photo of me standing tall in the raw recital hall, backed by a brutal headline: A Legacy Strangled by Corporate Greed: Is the Vance Monopoly Intimidated by the Ashford Comeback?
By nine o’clock, the entire art district was buzzing. The article was everywhere; phones, gossip, and even the stock tickers reacting. The Vance board was in full panic mode, scrambling to protect their precious share prices.
I sat on an upturned wooden crate in the middle of the stage, sipping my coffee and reading the column for the third time with a satisfied smirk. The roar of heavy engines outside told me th
