Victoria Carter sat behind her grand oak desk, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the desk lamp.
Each shadow in the room seemed to echo her growing frustration and the cold ambition that had taken root in her heart.
She swirled a glass of aged whiskey in her hand, her eyes fixed on the family portrait that hung on the wall opposite her — a constant reminder of the perceived injustices she had endured.
"Mom and Dad have always favored you! Even after their deaths, everything was inherited by that foolish Beatrice!" she muttered bitterly, her voice laced with venom.
The portrait stared back at her, unyielding and silent, as if judging her from its gilded frame.
The room was filled with the trappings of wealth — artifacts and antiques collected over generations, now hers through manipulation and cunning rather than affection or merit.
Her gaze drifted over the documents sprawled across her desk — legal papers and deeds, the tangible proof of her triumph in seizing the Carter family's legacy from her sister, Beatrice.
She tossed back the rest of her whiskey, the liquid burning her throat as it went down, mirroring the fire of her anger and determination.
With a sharp flick of her wrist, she flung the glass against the wall, where it shattered into a thousand pieces, a fleeting satisfaction in her otherwise turbulent emotions.
Just then, her assistant knocked lightly and entered, her presence a stark contrast to Victoria's turbulent state.
"Ms. Carter, your 9 PM appointment is here," she announced, unfazed by the glassy debris on the rich carpet.
"Thank you, Lydia. Have them wait. I'll be there shortly," Victoria responded, her voice composed but her mind racing.
She stood up, straightening her designer suit as she prepared to face another battle, another deal to expand her control even further.
As Lydia left, Victoria turned back to the portrait, her expression hardening. "I will not be overshadowed or underestimated, not by Beatrice, not by anyone," she vowed silently to the unsmiling faces of her deceased parents.
With one last glance at the remnants of the shattered glass, she stepped out of her office, ready to weave more threads into her web of power.
The legacy of the Carter family was now under her command, and she would guard it fiercely, regardless of whom she had to face, including her sister Beatrice.
Victoria's heels clicked authoritatively against the marble floor as she walked towards the meeting room. Her mind was a whirlwind of strategy and scenarios, each step bringing her closer to the face-off with potential investors who had the power to expand her empire even further.
But beneath her calm exterior, the news about Beatrice lingered like a shadow.
As she entered the room, her demeanor was all business, her face set into a mask of confidence and control.
The investors rose to greet her, extending handshakes that were met with her firm grip—the grip of someone who refused to be shaken.
"Good evening, gentlemen," Victoria began, her voice smooth and commanding as she took her seat at the head of the table.
"Thank you for joining me tonight. I believe we have some exciting opportunities to discuss that will be mutually beneficial."
As the meeting unfolded, Victoria skillfully navigated through proposals and negotiations, her mind sharp and her responses meticulously calculated.
Yet, part of her was distracted, thoughts of Beatrice creeping in between financial forecasts and market strategies.
The irony of her situation was not lost on her; just as she was about to secure a deal that would solidify her position, Beatrice's awakening threatened to unravel the seams of her carefully constructed world.
After the meeting concluded with promises of future collaborations and handshakes that sealed lucrative deals, Victoria retreated to her office, the weight of the evening's events pressing down on her.
She poured herself another glass of whiskey, this time taking a slow sip, allowing the warmth to settle her nerves.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, it was a message from the hospital.
"Mrs. Hawk is asking for you. She seems disoriented and is insisting on seeing you."
Victoria's heart skipped a beat.
The last thing she needed was an emotional confrontation with Beatrice, who was likely piecing together her own betrayal.
With a heavy sigh, Victoria knew she couldn't ignore the hospital's summons. It was time to face her sister, to look into the eyes of the woman she had wronged for her own gain.
Standing in front of the mirror in her office, Victoria straightened her jacket and smoothed her hair. She mustered up a façade of concern that she would need to wear like armor.
The drive to the hospital gave her time to prepare her speech, to ready the lies she would tell to soothe Beatrice, to convince her of her loyalty and love.
But as the city lights blurred past her window, Victoria felt a pang of something unexpected—guilt. She shook her head, dismissing the feeling as quickly as it came.
There was no room for such emotions in the life she had chosen.
Beatrice was just another obstacle in her path, and like all the others, she would need to navigate around her with precision and care.
"She's always been helpless, useless!" Victoria muttered under her breath, careful to keep her voice low enough so only she could hear.
"Her death would have been more useful to everyone than her life ever was!"