Athena found herself surrounded almost imdiately—hands extending toward her, smiles flashing under the warm golden light that stread from the chandelier above.
She had been congratulated before—at ceremonies, conferences, dinners—but this was different. Every handshake carried weight, every congratulatory word seed to press into her skin like a seal.
"Congratulations, Miss Thorne,"
"You deserve it,"
"We’re honored to have you lead us."
The complints ca from every direction. She smiled at them all, her practiced composure never slipping. Well until Ewan ca forward to shake her.
He offered his hand with that familiar confidence of his, and she took it—her fingers fitting easily against his.
"Congratulations, Miss Thorne," he said, voice low enough for only her to hear.
The faintest smile tugged at her lips. "Thank you, Mr. Ewan."
Their handshake lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary. Then ca the wink—quick, almost imperceptible—and that suggestive glint in his eyes that sent heat rising to her cheeks before she could stop it.
She tried to pull her hand back, aware they were the centre of attention, but he held on for a second more, enough for his thumb to brush lightly across her knuckles, before letting go. The mont passed too quickly, leaving her pulse fluttering.
She was still fighting to steady her breath when movent on her left caught her attention. She turned, and saw the other side of her family.
Her grand-aunt, dressed in an elegant gray dress and heavy pearls that glead like frost; her son, Jonathan, whose expression was all forced charm; and Cedric—her cousin, whose eyes flickered with sothing colder than resentnt.
Athena’s blush faded instantly.
She could see through the false smiles plastered across their faces. Every congratulatory gesture they gave was tight, chanical, like a performance rehearsed too many tis.
She mirrored them effortlessly, drawing her own smile—sharp, composed, and with just enough sweetness to make them wonder if it was real.
"Congratulations, dear," her grand-aunt said, voice syrupy but strained.
"Thank you," Athena replied smoothly, shaking her hand. Her gaze didn’t waver.
Jonathan stepped forward next, his smile a little too wide. "It’s good to see that the company stays within the family."
Athena’s answering expression was nothing short of victorious—a smile that bordered on a smirk, daring them to challenge her new position. "It is," she said softly, her tone smooth as glass. "Exactly where it belongs."
Cedric ca last. His handshake was firm but wordless. For a brief second, their eyes locked. There was no warmth there—only a silent acknowledgnt of rivalry, the kind that simred beneath polite civility.
When that was done, Athena stepped back slightly, collecting herself. The room had quieted again, attention turning toward her once more. She knew what was expected of her.
She took a mont, inhaled, and let her eyes sweep across the table, over the faces that now looked to her for direction. Then, with calm precision, she stepped forward.
"Thank you," she began, her voice steady and clear, echoing faintly in the large hall. "I can’t begin to describe how honored I am to stand here today. This company—our company—has been the backbone of innovation, resilience, and unity for many years. It’s more than an organization. It’s a living testant to what vision, dedication, and family can achieve."
A pause. She looked briefly at her grandfather, who was watching her with a faint, approving smile.
"I’ve seen my grandfather handle this empire with unwavering passion," she continued. "I learned that leadership isn’t just about numbers, or profit margins, or expansion. It’s about people. It’s about listening when no one else will. It’s about creating sothing that outlasts us."
Her tone softened slightly, emotion threading through her words. "I don’t take this responsibility lightly. Thorne Industries has stood for decades as a beacon of trust. And as we move forward into a new era, I pledge to honor that trust. I will uphold the integrity that has defined this company, and I will give everything I have to ensure its continued growth."
The room was utterly still.
Athena took one last glance around the table, eting the eyes of each shareholder, one by one. "Thank you for believing in ," she said. "And thank you for believing in what we can accomplish together."
When she finished, a beat of silence hung in the air—then applause broke out again, louder than before. The sound filled the room, echoing off the high walls and polished floors.
Athena smiled, dipping her head slightly before returning to her seat beside her grandfather. Her pulse had steadied now. The nerves that had plagued her earlier were gone, replaced by quiet resolve.
Old Mr. Thorne rose slowly once the clapping faded, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the table. "Well said," he remarked proudly. "Very well said."
His gaze swept over the faces in the room. "Thank you, everyone, for being part of this mont. My gratitude goes to you all for the years of service, the commitnt, and the faith you’ve given this company. I ask now that you extend that sa patience and grace to my granddaughter as she steps into this new role."
He paused, smiling faintly. "Though, I hardly think she’ll need much of it. She’s already the owner of more than four successful companies, all of which now stand rged under the Thorne Empire."
A ripple of laughter moved through the room, followed by approving murmurs. The shareholders nodded eagerly—most of them, at least. The only exceptions were Athena’s grand-aunt and her family, whose faces had grown stiff and unreadable.
Still, the majority were clearly pleased. So leaned toward each other, whispering about how young she was, how much she’d accomplished, how lucky they were to have her at the helm.
When Mr. Thorne declared the eting officially dismissed, Athena exhaled quietly, allowing herself a small smile. It was done.
Ewan was already moving toward her, as if pulled by the sa invisible thread that always seed to connect them. She felt it too—the way her body tilted unconsciously in his direction, the way her heart gave that soft, familiar lurch when he smiled at her.
They didn’t need words. The brief eting of eyes said enough.
As the crowd began to thin, they both started toward the door at the sa ti, falling into step beside each other. Their shoulders brushed once, twice. Her skin tingled at the contact.
They were almost to the exit, about to follow her grandfather and grandmother out into the hallway, when Old Mr. Thorne’s deep voice stopped them.
"Athena," he called.
She turned instantly, startled. "Yes, Grandpa?"
He was standing a few feet away, his sharp gaze fixed squarely on her. "Where do you think you’re going?"
She blinked, montarily lost. "Ho?" she said carefully, glancing at Ewan for help.
Ewan tried—and failed—to hide a grin.
Florence chuckled softly from beside the old man. "Your work begins now, dear," she said, amusent lighting her voice. "As of this minute, you’re officially in charge. And that ans you start imdiately."
Athena’s brows shot up. "Now?"
Florence smiled, eyes twinkling. "Now."
Before Athena could respond, Mr. Thorne gestured toward the far side of the room. "Cedric."
Her cousin turned, his posture straight, expression carefully composed. "Yes, sir?"
"Show your cousin the ropes," the old man instructed. "She’ll need to get familiar with the finer details of the departnts."
Cedric’s lips curved into a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "Of course," he said smoothly. "It would be my pleasure."
But as he turned away, the polite mask slipped for just a fraction of a second.
His face hardened, the faintest frown cutting through his features—sharp, cold, and full of hostility.
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