She raised the documents and waved them in front of Zara's face for dramatic emphasis.
"If you don't sign this by the end of the day, the government locks it all up. Accounts. Properties. Everything. For years. That includes the staff you care about and the charities your sweet mother supported. Everyone suffers."
"And let me guess," Zara muttered, "you two are just so selfless, offering to 'protect' it for me."
"Well, that's quite literally what it is, sister. We'll hold it until your name is cleared—if it ever is."
Zara's breath hitched, and Diana seemed to sense the tension. Her tone softened as she gazed into Zara's eyes, feigning compassion.
"You'll be doing this for your family. For your mother. Do you really want her life's work to be seized by the government?"
"And why do I have to sign it?" Zara asked, defiant. "Don't think you can fool me with your antics, Diana. I know this is just a trap dressed up in legal jargon."
"I promise you it's not."
Diana raised both hands in mock innocence.
"We had no hand in this clause. It was actually your mother and her lawyers who came up with it. To protect the family's assets from scandal."
Zara fell silent. She truly had nothing to say. They were cornering her with legal pressure and emotional manipulation—and worst of all, they were playing it smart.
Smart enough not to leave her with much of a choice.
"Ugh, what's taking so long? Just sign the damn papers so we can leave already," Ariana snapped, her red hair bouncing as she rolled her eyes in impatience.
Every time Zara looked at the youngest Blake, her soul screamed bloody murder.
Diana must've sensed the rising tide of emotions and quickly stepped in.
"Silly little sister," she said to Ariana with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "She needs time to process it. We can't force this on her."
She turned back to Zara.
"Which is why we'll give you time to think it over. Later this evening, we'll be back. Tick-tock, Zee."
She turned to leave, Ariana trailing closely behind her.
Just as they were about to exit the cell area, a man in a pristine navy-blue suit and dark sunglasses walked in, a sleek black briefcase in his left hand.
At his side was someone neither Ariana nor Diana expected to see.
Bertha Drew.
They walked past—Bertha not even bothering to acknowledge them—heading straight toward the area the sisters had just exited.
Diana's alarm bells rang instantly.
She grabbed Ariana's arm and dragged her back in, compelled to witness what might be the biggest twist they'd ever see.
The mysterious man took a seat opposite the officer in charge, placing the briefcase on the desk with a firm thud.
One might have expected the officer to show some surprise, but he didn't even flinch.
"You bring it with you?" he asked with a southern drawl.
"Of course. Have a look."
The man rotated the briefcase and unlatched it, opening it with a dramatic flair. It was as if the sun itself burst from within.
Inside were twenty gleaming bars of gold—authentic, untarnished, and unmistakably real.
They shimmered under the office lights, but nothing glistened more than the look in the officer's eyes.
Then, just as casually, the man shut the case again.
"I trust everything is in order—papers for release and all official protocol?"
"Yes, of course. Everything's sorted," the officer stammered, scrambling for his walkie-talkie, clearly dazed by the transaction.
"Delta, come in for Alpha."
A crackle of static filled the air.
"Delta here."
"Come and release the girl. Ensure all her paperwork is ready."
Zara couldn't believe her eyes.
Yet deep down, she wasn't surprised. She had always known Bertha would pull through. Although how her best friend had managed to get that much gold was beyond comprehension.
Still, shock wasn't hers to wear.
That privilege belonged to her enemies.
Ariana was nearly hyperventilating.
Diana remained stoic, but the flicker in her eyes betrayed the conflict brewing inside.
For the first time in a long while, Zara felt the sweet sting of poetic justice.
And it was delicious.
A guard approached the cell door, unlocking it with a key and sliding it open. Just like that, Zara was free.
She had only been here for less than a day, but it already felt like she had been imprisoned for a lifetime—like a caged bird yearning for the sky.
Now, she could finally fly again.
And she would make it count.
Not before Bertha nearly choked her in a hug.
"I missed you so much!" Bertha squealed, practically jumping with joy as her chubby arms wrapped around Zara's neck in ferocious affection.
"Bertha… can't breathe..."
"Oh! Sorry. I'm just so happy to see you again!"
Bertha continued bouncing, and Zara had to physically calm her down.
As much as she shared the same joy, she needed clarity to process everything.
"Believe me, Bertha. I'm even happier seeing you here. Thank you."
Zara offered her gratitude, a practice she never abandoned—no matter the circumstance.
But before she could ask questions, the man who orchestrated her release approached.
"Can I give you ladies a ride home?" he asked smoothly.
"That would be lovely, thank you," Zara replied graciously, her voice polished with composure.
She'd never seen this man before, and curiosity stirred.
"And you are…?"
"I'm Jackson," he said with a small smile. "But I'm not the hero here. You'll have to thank him in person later."
Zara's mind buzzed with possibilities. Who could've spent such a fortune just to get her out?
But first—she had unfinished business.
"May we have a moment first? We'll be right back."
She took Bertha by the hand and made her way to the spot where her stepsisters stood frozen.
Zara wished she had her phone to capture the moment. They had never looked more utterly blindsided.
Though Diana appeared more betrayed than shocked.
Still, that wasn't Zara's concern.
"Well, well, well…" she said slowly, approaching them.
Ariana shrieked and ducked behind Diana, who—despite the mounting pressure—remained composed.
"Did you really think it would be that easy? Getting rid of me, then claiming the property for yourselves? Like, hello?"
Neither of them responded—too stunned to move, let alone speak.
"As much as I'd love to stand here all day and rub salt into your wounds, I actually have things to do. Unlike you two, I don't spend my time making other people miserable."
Zara let her gaze roam over their faces, eyes locked with precision. Then she laughed—a sharp, almost feral cackle that even made the officer glance over with amusement.
"Nevertheless," she said, her tone shifting to something cold and fierce, "I'll leave you with this."
She stepped forward, her energy darkening like a brewing storm.
"I am coming back for my property and my heritage."
She took one step closer, and Ariana stumbled backward. Diana held her ground, but Zara didn't care about intimidation.
This wasn't about fear.
It was about truth.
"I will take back what is rightfully mine and drive you—along with your depraved mother—out of my mansion."
Ariana's breathing grew ragged. Diana's pupils dilated.
"Do. You. Understand?"