A year had passed since my departure, and the scandal had long since faded from the headlines. If anyone still whispered about it, I didn't care. Zarri and I had decided to return home, and grandfather had come to receive us in person.
As I stepped out of the jet, the warm sun on my skin, I scanned the tarmac and spotted grandfather and Frank waiting beside a sleek black Rolls-Royce. Excitement bubbled up inside me, and I rushed over to him, my arms open wide for a hug.
But as I approached, grandfather held out his hand, stopping me in my tracks. I laughed, feeling a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Seriously, grandfather... come on, you keep doing this," I said, my grin still plastered on my face.
His expression didn't break. No smile, no warmth. Only those steady, hawk-like eyes that missed nothing. "A Saint does not run," he said simply, his voice carrying the weight of an old mantra.
For a moment, the silence stretched. Then ever so slightly, his hand lowered, and the corner of his mouth twitched into what almost looked like the ghost of a smirk. "But I will allow the laughter."
Zarri, descending the stairs behind me in her oversized sunglasses and dramatic coat, scoffed loudly. "Dios mío, old man, you're colder than a glacier. She's been gone a year, and you can't even let her hug you?"
Frank coughed softly into his fist, muttering, "Miss Zarri..." but even he hid the faintest smile.
The Rolls Royce gleamed at the edge of the runway, the door open, waiting. Grandfather's eyes lingered on me as i stood there laughing, alive, back on my soil. His voice was quiet but firm.
"Come, Kashi. The country hasn't forgotten you. And neither have its wolves."
The weeks following my return were filled with grandfather's persistent attempts to hand over the reins of the company to me.
"You're growing old, grandfather," I teased, laughing as he complain about needing someone to take the helm.
But he was insistent, and eventually, we struck a deal: I'd take over as acting CEO, with him guiding me through the transition. It was a challenge, but I was ready.
And just like that, the news spread like wildfire. At first, it was whispers in boardrooms, soft laughter in exclusive lounges "The scandalous heiress is back."
But when Saints Company announced me as Acting CEO, every headline turned sharp, every eye swung back to me.
News tickers blared:
• "Saints Heiress Returns: From Fallen Fiancée to CEO?"
• "One Year After Infamous Ball, Kashi Saints Takes the Helm of Saints Company."
• "Bold Move or Desperation? Industry Divided on Saints' Leadership Choice."
Some praised my comeback: "She's resilient. To rise after that kind of public fall? Remarkable." Others sneered: "She's reckless. A spoiled brat given power she didn't earn."
But regardless of the spin, one truth was undeniable, my name was on every screen again. Not because of Damian. But because of me.
At the office, cameras flashed each morning as i walked into Saints Tower in tailored power suits. Inside the boardroom, i sat where grandfather once ruled, his presence still guiding me but his shadow finally beginning to fade.
And though some executives tested me, smirks, whispered doubts, quiet challenges.
I've cut them down one by one, proving i wasnt a puppet on grandfather's strings.
Still, the headlines carried both admiration and venom:
"From disgrace to dominance: Is this redemption or another impending fall?"
"Saints shares rise modestly under Kashi's first week—can she hold the momentum?"