Part III — Rise of the Phoenix
893 Words
The city of London welcomed me with rain.
Not the gentle drizzle of movies, but the kind that soaked your soul and made you forget the warmth of home. But I didn’t care. I had arrived, and that was all that mattered.
My days at university were nothing like the glamorous film sets or red carpet premieres. I studied finance with a focus sharper than any camera lens. Numbers, charts, and cold logic—finally, a world where emotion had no say.
Every day, I rose early. I ran along the Thames at dawn. I devoured textbooks and aced every exam. I pushed myself to the edge, because I knew—I was building the empire that would bury the past.
Occasionally, I caught glimpses of myself in reflective windows. No longer the foolish girl who cried over Ethan. No longer the sacrificial lamb led to s*******r.
I was Iris Lu, heir of the Lu conglomerate, and soon… I’d be much more.
Back home, Damien and Lena became the perfect public couple. Rumors of their engagement floated across headlines. The media loved it—two beautiful prodigies, united by music, legacy, and power.
What a beautiful lie.
But they forgot one thing.
I was the real Lu heiress.
When I returned three years later, I stepped off the private jet in six-inch heels and a custom-tailored Armani coat. My every move was calculated, refined. I wasn’t here to make peace.
I was here to collect.
The Lu Group’s boardroom fell silent as I entered. My father blinked as though seeing a ghost.
“Y-You… what are you doing here?”
I placed the file on the table—papers that proved his years of shady financial dealings, carefully buried beneath layers of offshore accounts.
“I’m here to take back what’s mine,” I said. “I now hold 37% of the voting shares. Effective immediately, I will assume the role of interim CEO.”
“You’re bluffing,” Damien snapped.
I turned to him slowly, eyes as cold as winter.
“Then go ahead, challenge me. Let’s put it to a vote.”
The board chose me.
Of course they did.
Iris Lu was back. And this time, I held the strings.
Later that evening, I attended the gala. The one where Lena was to perform as the star violinist. The moment I entered, heads turned. Gasps rippled through the crowd.
“Is that… Iris?”
“She’s glowing.”
“I thought she vanished abroad!”
I smiled politely, raising a glass of champagne.
Then I saw them.
Damien, in his tailored black suit, arm-in-arm with Lena in an ivory gown. The picture of aristocratic perfection.
She froze when she saw me.
So did he.
I walked toward them slowly, deliberately. “What a lovely performance, Lena,” I said smoothly. “You always did know how to fake a melody.”
Her jaw clenched.
“Damien,” I added, voice soft, “I hope you’ve been taking good care of your… fiancée.”
He stiffened. I leaned in, whispered against his ear.
“Too bad you couldn’t take care of your sister.”
Then I walked away, leaving them to choke on silence.
From that night on, the war began.
I bought out Lena’s endorsements.
I exposed the under-the-table bribes Damien accepted on behalf of the Jiang Corporation.
I charmed every board member one by one, rebuilt the PR of the Lu Group, and re-entered the film world—not as an actress, but as a silent investor backing the biggest blockbusters of the decade.
Lena tried to smear my name again. She faked a scandal involving me and a director.
It backfired.
She was the one caught seducing the man in hotel surveillance footage.
Damien tried to corner me in the company’s top floor one night, thinking he could still control me like before.
He reached for my wrist.
I slapped his hand away.
“I am not your little sister anymore,” I said. “And the next time you touch me without permission, I will press charges.”
“Iris,” he whispered, “you’re going too far.”
“No,” I replied. “I’m only getting started.”
One by one, the people who betrayed me began to fall.
Ethan? He’d become a washed-up executive in a failing startup. Rumors said he drank himself to sleep each night. Occasionally, I’d receive emails from him—drunk, regretful, broken.
I never replied.
Lena? Her concerts were half-empty now. Her smile no longer glowed beneath the spotlight. Critics whispered of her decline. Sponsorships evaporated.
And Damien?
He sat at board meetings like a ghost, stripped of his voice, watching me lead the company he once thought he controlled.
But none of it brought me peace.
One evening, I stood alone on a balcony overlooking the city lights. The wind was sharp, my champagne untouched.
“What now?” I whispered to no one. “Is this revenge… or emptiness?”
Then behind me, a quiet voice.
“You look like you could use a piano.”
I turned.
A man stood there. Not from my past. Not from my pain.
Just… new.
And in his eyes, no judgment. No greed. Only warmth.
I didn’t smile.
But I didn’t walk away either.
- Writer
