By the time we left the building, the sun was high in the sky.

The city streets were busy with people going about their daily lives.

We walked back to the car, the air feeling lighter than it had in years.

“What is our first step?” I asked Vincent as the car pulled into the traffic.

“We must officially notify the board of directors of Vance Shipping,” Vincent said.

“They need to know that you are in control now.”

“Will they accept me?” I asked.

“They will accept the Crimson Seal,” Vincent said.

“And they will accept the backing of my organization.”

We spent the afternoon drafting the official letters to the board members.

I sat at the desk in the library, my pen moving steadily across the thick paper.

With each signature, I felt myself reclaiming a piece of my identity.

I was no longer a woman running from a monster.

I was Clara Vance, the head of her family’s legacy.

That evening, Vincent and I dined together in the formal dining room.

The table was long, but we sat close to each other at one end.