4 Years Laters
They say power changes people. I say it reveals them.
Because this… this is who I've always been.
Four years ago, they handed me a crown wrapped in barbed wire and expected me to bleed quietly. But I didn't. I took it, bled, and made every drop mean something. I built an empire from scorched bones and silence, and now when they speak my name, they whisper.
Not Marie. That name is dead.
Selena.
Queen Bee.
The woman who made a city kneel.
I've learned that the best way to survive in this world is to become something the world can't touch.
Emotion? Weakness.
Love? A liability.
Forgiveness? A myth.
I don't have the luxury of softness anymore.
So I sharpened every part of myself. My tongue. My mind. My trigger finger. I studied the men who ruled before me—my father included—and I dismantled them one by one. I didn't inherit this empire. I took it. I made it bend to me.
They call me ruthless. Heartless. Ice in human form.
They're right.
And still, they bow.
