“Then take it.” Winter’s declaration held all the authority I was used to commanding. “Seriously, Hill. What better time than after your entire revenge empire closes out and you survive a bit of torture?”
More softly, she added, “You’ve lived most of your life for someone else—to avenge them, to honor them, even to measure up to your aunt’s inheritance expectations—please, take the time.”
I didn’t respond. I had little to say. The future, for the first time in my life, was a looming question mark of unpredictability and possibility, a new game where I didn’t know the rules. I squeezed her as tightly as my bandaged arms would allow before she had to leave me to return to her own life—one she’d fought hard to build with her own men.
My thoughts swirled above our heads as we fell silent, taking comfort in the quiet strength of her company whilewe still had this time together. The boys would be back any minute, and our moment would be lost.
I allowed the faintest prick of resolution to pierce my heart as I mulled over her words. The game had changed. I didn’t know the board or the players involved, but I knew me, and I knew my men. And when you had a royal court, it didn’t matter which game you played, the odds would be in your favor.
After all, I was still the Queen.
Two months later
“Laney … are you sure about this?”
Marty’s dubious expression pulled a laugh from my throat. I’d asked myself the same question many times over these last two months as we’d strategized our next moves. Eventually, I landed on “yes, fundamentally, categorically sure.”
We were seated in my office for likely the last time. Me at my desk in a baby pink cashmere track suit and Louis Vuitton sneakers since my feet were still undergoinga strict rehabilitation regimen, with Marty and Weston seated opposite me, dressed in suits, as usual.
They were perched in front of piles of documents organized by color-coded folders, each reviewing the many sets of directions I’d agonized over. Every detail had been written out with the most explicit instructions of what was to become of my company now I was leaving.
“I just… I can’t believe you’re leaving. How can Lane Enterprises exist without a Lane to run it?” My assistant’s crestfallen face tugged at my heartstrings, but it wouldn’t change my mind.
“I promise you, I have the perfect replacement in mind.” I placed a hand over his and squeezed it lightly, my lips quirking into a placating smile. “But we’ll get to that. Weston?”
Weston shuffled the papers in front of him. “Yes, okay, so first—the endowment.”
He whistled through his teeth, clearly seeing the amount of money put into a secured trust for Roberta’s Foundation. It was the only way I’d accept walking away from the mission that had consumed my life for the better part of a decade. If I wasn’t getting my hands dirty, I could leave a sizable gift to the kind hearts who protected the most vulnerable in our state.
Thankfully, Alvarez and any low-life ties associated with his operations had been completely shut down, and the FBI had dismantled much of Antonio’s illegal businesses even though they hadn’t been able to track him down across three countries. Sequoia citizens were likely the safest they’d ever been from soulless predators, but human nature would continue on, and eventually another evil person no doubt would move in to take their place. I couldn’t single-handedly fight them all.
“Yes, the endowment. I’d like that one to remain anonymous, please. No named buildings or anything likethat. Just make sure they have access to the funds annually to keep up with their needs.”
“Okay…” Marty chewed on his lips but flipped the page to the next item: stock options.
“So, you’re giving one million dollars worth of stock options—yourstock options—to a Gertrude Baker?”
A small grin pinched my cheeks at that request from Lucky. Trust my previously opportunistic, now kind and sappy Irishman to want Gertie to be taken care of for life for her part in Alvarez’s incarceration. I was happy to do it, and had already hired her as a new assistant as one of my final duties. Lane Enterprises was going to need one.
“Yes, and double the amount will be left to Josephine Horton, Winter Wallace, and Noble Wallace—the latter set aside in a trust until he turns twenty-one. Of the rest of my options, I’d like them divided up among all staff in my immediate companies—the details are in there.” I pointed at the yellow folder at the bottom of the pile; Weston pulled it out to see the details for himself.
His deep tone broke through the noisy din of paper rustling after skimming the first page. “That’s over five thousand employees.”
I nodded. “It is, yes. As for Aaron’s company that I inherited after his fake death, the Board has agreed to buy me out entirely. We’ll sell the shares over time to maintain the stock value, but I want them all liquidated before the end of the year. That’s my retirement money.”
Weston dipped his head in acknowledgment and turned his attention back to the folder, his eyebrows raising every few seconds at the figures listed there. Being a billionaire was no joke—and most people couldn’t fathom how much money it actually was. By the time I was done here, I’d have only a fraction of that wealth, but still more than enough to live off of.
My heavy shoulders felt lighter with the release of that burden.
“Retirement,” Marty mumbled as he thumbed through in a mild fugue state. I felt bad I was throwing this all at him at once, but if I knew anything about Martin Williams, he could handle the load.
“Does it say anywhere in here who will be my new boss?” he muttered grumpily. Weston kicked him under the table, and I stifled my snort while waiting patiently for him to flip to the last page.
When the light gray of his stare finally met the blues of my own, eyes widened in shock, I couldn’t help the wide grin from creeping across my face.
“Laney, I—what—really?!” he spluttered. Weston peered over to view the instructions. Another whistle pierced the air, and he placed a large palm on the back of his husband’s shoulder in a congratulatory squeeze.
“Really,” I confirmed, unable to control the light giggle on the tip of my tongue. “I’ve already enrolled you in a CEO mentorship program so you can feel comfortable in this role—but Marty, that’s a formality. You know this business inside and out, and I trust your instincts.”
