The Queen Claims Her Throne

#Zoe’s pov#

It had been exactly four days since our wedding — three days of living in a mansion that felt like it belonged in a fairy tale.

The estate was massive, the kind of place you could get lost in if you weren’t careful. There was a butler, a head maid, and enough staff to run a small hotel, all moving with efficiency.

Preston had been nothing but gentle with me. He refused to touch me beyond a kiss on the forehead or a hand on my back unless I wanted it. He told me he’d wait — until I was ready, until my heart was fully his.

And I was grateful. I didn’t know what love was supposed to feel like anymore, but I knew what safety felt like. And Preston made me feel safe.

I stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around me, steam curling into the room. My hair dripped down my back, leaving wet trails along my skin. I froze when I saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, his sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, like he’d been waiting for me.

His gaze lifted, and for a moment, he just stared.

Like I was something divine.

“Zoe…” he breathed, standing slowly, like he was afraid he might scare me away. His eyes burned as they trailed over me, lingering on the droplets of water sliding down my collarbone. He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, voice low, like a confession. “You take my breath away every time I look at you, but right now…” He exhaled, stepping closer, but still not touching me. “Right now, I’m wondering how I got lucky enough to call you my wife.”

My heart twisted painfully, and I clutched the towel tighter. I wanted to believe him. But after everything, words like that felt foreign — like they belonged to someone else.

Preston must have noticed my hesitation because he took a step back, his features softening.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I promised I’d wait. And I will. For as long as you need.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded and turned toward the closet, but before I could walk away, he grabbed a small envelope from the nightstand.

“I wanted to give you your wedding gift,” he said, stopping me with nothing but his voice.

I blinked, confused. My fingers trembled as I opened it, my damp hair clinging to my skin.

I scanned the papers inside — my breath catching like I’d been punched in the chest.

51% of Harper Industries.

I looked up, my chest tightening. “Preston, this is Travis’s company.”

“No,” he said, brushing a strand of wet hair from my face with his knuckles, so gentle it made my throat close up. “It’s yours now.”

I shook my head, the weight of the document sinking into my bones. “I can’t — this is too much. Why would you do this?”

“Because I want you to win,” he said, his voice steady, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Because you deserve justice. And because I love you, even if you’re not ready to love me back yet.”

Tears welled in my eyes, he was so kind it hurt.

But Preston didn’t ask for anything in return. He just cupped my cheek, smiled softly, and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“You don’t have to love me back right now ,” he whispered. “Just let me keep loving you”

Preston slid his hands into his pockets, watching me . “I bought the shares before the wedding,” he said.

My fingers trembled as I clutched the folder, the weight of the moment pressing down on me.

Preston stepped closer, his thumb grazing my jaw.

“Didn’t I tell you?” he whispered, eyes . “We’ll watch their world burn.”

I didn’t know who moved first — but suddenly, his mouth was on mine, the kiss burning, reaching every part of my soul.

When we finally pulled apart, breathless, he pressed his forehead against mine.

“You start tomorrow,” he muttered. “I’ll be right beside you.”

I clutched the folder to my chest, my heart hammering.

Tomorrow, I would take the first step toward dismantling everything Travis Harper had ever built. He took my mother away from me, and destroyed her name. I'll take everything from him .