The Queen Claims Her Throne

The body washed up at dawn.

The police found her car abandoned by the cliffs. The engine still warm.

Inside, a letter rested on the passenger seat, the ink slightly smudged from damp air.

I know you never loved me.

You killed my mother and married me out of guilt.

I hope Madison was worth it.

-Zoe

The internet exploded within hours.

#JusticeForZoe trended globally.

Articles dissected every detail of their marriage, headlines screaming betrayal:

“Travis Harper Wife Dies in Apparent Suicide Amid Rumors of Infidelity”

“Was Zoe Hart Pushed to the Edge?”

The media swarmed the mansion like vultures.

Inside, Travis sat in the dim living room, staring at the letter. His hands shook, but he couldn’t let go of the page.

“This doesn’t make sense,” he muttered.

David paced behind him, running a hand through his hair. “I told you, Travis. I told you the truth can’t be hidden forever. Now she is dead and it’s all your fault.”

Travis slammed the table. “She wouldn’t just kill herself!”

Madison twirled her hair around her finger, a satisfied smirk curling on her lips.

“Well,” she said,“at least she finally did something right.”

Travis stared at the phone screen, Zoe’s goodbye letter still glowing back at him. His fingers trembled, knuckles white.

Madison leaned closer, her voice softening like a blade sliding into flesh.

“This is better, isn’t it?” she whispered. “Now we can finally be together… without her in the way.”

His stomach twisted. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She laughed, light and cruel. “Why are you upset? It’s not like you loved her.”

But the ache in his chest said otherwise.

The first leak dropped at midnight.

A set of documents — hospital records, consent forms, Travis’s signature scrawled at the bottom like a death sentence. The files detailed how Zoe’s mother’s organs were harvested to save Madison’s sister.

Less than an hour later, photos surfaced. Madison and Travis, tangled together in hotel rooms, his hands gripping her like she was the air he breathed. In some shots, they laughed. In others, they clung to each other like they couldn’t get close enough.

The internet exploded.

Travis sat frozen, his face ashen as he scrolled through the leaks. His breath hitched, chest rising and falling like he couldn’t get enough air.

“This… this isn’t possible,” he muttered, voice shaking. “Who… who would even know all this?”

Travis’s stomach twisted.

Someone was after them.

Someone who knew everything.

Travis gripped his phone, hands trembling, voice barely a whisper.

“Could she still be alive?”

Zoe pov##

Zoe sat in a dimly lit room, the glow of her laptop screen illuminating her face. She scrolled through the endless flood of comments, her fingers steady, her heart cold.

Monster.

Murderer.

How could he do that to his wife?

News articles popped up one after another — investors pulling out, stock prices crashing, and reporters camping outside Travis’s house. Madison’s name trended alongside his, their pictures plastered everywhere like a public execution.

Zoe’s lips curled into a faint smile.

She shut the laptop, slipped on her sunglasses, walked out of the apartment and stepped onto the dock. The boat rocked gently beneath her as she climbed aboard, the salt air sharp and freeing.

She took one last look at the distant city skyline, her past burning to the ground.

I am dead to the whole world ..

She exhaled shakily.

“Rough night Zoe?”

Zoe’s body stiffened. She turned slowly, her heart pounding against her ribs.

Standing on the deck was an incredibly handsome man — sharp jaw, dark eyes that seemed to pierce straight through her, and a confident stance that screamed power.

“I don’t know who Zoe is,” she said, her voice sharp and controlled. “My name is Emily.”

The man’s mouth curved into a faint smirk.

“I own the company that made you disappear,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets like he had all the time in the world. “Preston Urie. Madison’s ex-boyfriend. And Travis’s biggest competitor.”

Her breath caught she wasn’t expecting to see him .

Her pulse spiked. “Why are you here, Preston? Do you stalk all your clients?”

His smile deepened, eyes glinting with something unreadable. “No, I don’t,” he said, stepping closer, voice low and smooth. “But you… you’re different. I want something from you.”

Her chest tightened. “What?”

“I want you to be my wife.”

She blinked, her heart stumbling over itself. “What? why?”

“ For my own personal reasons,” he admitted, his gaze unwavering. “I can’t tell you why. Not yet. But I can promise you this — I’ll protect you. I won’t hurt you.”

Zoe’s throat burned, her defenses slamming up like a wall. “I don’t want anything to do with my past,” she said, voice sharp. “And I’m done with marriage out of convenience.”

Preston’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes, like he understood her more than she realized.

“Zoe,” he said, voice low and deliberate, “I’m offering you power and connection. Let me destroy them for you. I know you don’t need it, but I can help. Let me be your backbone.”

He pulled out his phone and held it up to her.

Headlines flashed across the screen.

“Murdered for Madison? The Shocking Truth Behind Zoe’s Mother’s Death.”

“Gold-Digger,Saint or slut? New Evidence Paints a Darker Picture of Zoe’s mother.”

They were slandering her mother. Twisting her death into something ugly.

Her chest tightened, fingers curling into fists as her face twisted with rage.

“Let me take care of you,” Preston said, voice gentler now. “And the baby.”

Zoe’s eyes snapped to his, heart lurching.

“How do you know that?” she whispered, stepping back cautiously.

Preston’s smile didn’t fade.

“I make humans disappear,” he said, voice smooth as silk. “Of course, I know everything about my clients.”

“Take my hand, Zoe. Don’t do this alone.”

I stared at his hand, my chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The weight of everything I’d lost, everything I was still carrying, crushed down on me.

I exhaled shakily, my fingers twitching at my sides.

“I… I don’t know what to think,” I whispered, my voice breaking.

Preston didn’t move, didn’t push. He just waited.

Like he’d wait forever.

I took his hand, my fingers trembling as they slipped into his.

Preston’s face curved into a wicked smile, dark and triumphant.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, his voice laced with dangerous promise. “Let’s give them hell.”

He squeezed my hand, his grip steady and unyielding.

“We get married in 2 days.”