---- Chapter 14 Emily POV: Josiah leaned forward, his expression earnest. "Starting over is a good plan. But a job as a waitress won't give you the power you need. What about university? You were the smartest person in our year. You could get a degree in anything you wanted." | shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "| don't have a high school diploma, Josiah. | dropped out to help Killian start his first company." He didn't look surprised. He simply reached for his briefcase and pulled out a brochure, sliding it across the table to me. The cover read: Université de Paris - Continuing Education for Adult Learners. "| took the liberty of looking into some options," he said, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "I've been thinking about this ever since you texted me. It's a program designed for people exactly like you. People whose education was interrupted." He saw the look of guilt and shame on my face. "Emily," he said gently, "what happened to you... the bullying, dropping out of school, all of it... it's not your fault. And a part of it is mine. Let me help you fix it." ---- "It wasn't your fault," | whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "It doesn't matter," he said. "You needed help, and I'm here. That's all that matters now." The next morning, he took me to a language school and enrolled me in an intensive French course. He spoke the language fluently, his interactions with the school administrators easy and confident. Watching him, so capable and self-assured, | felt a flicker of the person | used to be, the girl who had once competed with him for the top spot in calculus. After, he took me to a bookstore and bought me a mountain of textbooks and study guides. "The entrance exam for the university program is in six months," he explained. "Language is the first step, but you'll need to brush up on everything else too. My life fell into a new rhythm. Mornings were spent in the bustling language school, my brain aching as | tried to wrap my tongue around French verb conjugations. Afternoons were for studying in the quiet of Josiah's apartment, the silence broken only by the sound of pages turning and my pen scratching against paper. Josiah was ridiculously busy, running the European division of his venture capital firm, but he always made time for me. He'd come home late, looking exhausted, but he would still sit with me for an hour, patiently explaining economic theories or quizzing me on French vocabulary. ---- A month passed. My spoken French was still clumsy, but | could read and understand with surprising ease. One evening, Josiah came home carrying a thick binder filled with company prospectuses and financial reports. "| have an idea," he said, dropping the binder on the coffee table. "Instead of studying history or literature, why don't you study this?" | looked at him, confused. "This is... your work." He nodded, his expression serious. "| did some digging," he admitted, looking slightly sheepish. "About what Emerson did to you. To your brother. The money... the company... all of it." He met my gaze, his own eyes hardening with a quiet anger. "Men like him... they don't deserve to get away with it. People should pay for their cruelty. And | have a feeling the revenge would be so much sweeter if you were the one to deliver it." The thought was a dangerous spark in the dry tinder of my soul. Revenge. It was a word | hadn't dared to let myself think. But now... "What are you suggesting?" | asked, my voice barely a whisper. "I'm suggesting you learn how to dismantle an empire from the inside out," he said, a slow, determined smile spreading across his face. "I'm suggesting you learn to be the one holding all the cards." | hesitated for only a moment. Then, | reached for the binder. ---- "Okay," | said, my voice firm with a newfound resolve. "Teach me." My world became a blur of relentless work. French in the mornings, university prep in the afternoons. My evenings were now spent with Josiah, not as a student, but as an apprentice. He taught me how to read a balance sheet, how to identify a company's vulnerabilities, how to analyze market trends. He was a patient, brilliant teacher, and | was a ravenous student, soaking up every piece of information, driven by a cold, burning purpose. He started taking me to meetings with him, introducing me as his new analyst. | sat in silent observation in sleek, corporate boardrooms, watching him negotiate multi-million dollar deals with a calm, lethal precision. Three months after | landed in Paris, he walked into the study where | was poring over financial projections and dropped a new file on my desk. "This is a new tech startup we're considering for a seed round," he said, his voice casual. "| want you to handle the due diligence. Vet them. Tear their business plan apart. Tell me if they're worth my time." He was handing me my first real test. My first taste of real power. | looked up at him, my heart pounding with a mixture of terror and exhilaration. | didn't hesitate. ---- "I'm on it."