The thirty-eighth week, Christabel bought a bank.
Not for the money.
For the power.
And the world finally understood that she was not just Damien Moreau's wife.
She was his equal.
---
The bank was called Vance Trust.
Not a coincidence.
It had been founded by her grandfather. Run by her father. Lost by her mother.
And now it belonged to Christabel.
"How did you find it?" Damien asked.
"I never lost it." She spread the documents across the desk. "I've been watching it for years. Waiting for the right moment."
"The right moment?"
"When the owner was desperate. When the price was low. When no one else was paying attention."
"And that moment is now?"
She smiled.
"That moment was three days ago. I closed the deal this morning."
---
Damien stared at her.
"You bought a bank without telling me?"
"I bought my family's bank without telling anyone."
"Why?"
"Because it's mine. Because it should have always been mine. Because my mother stole it from me, and I'm taking it back."
He was quiet for a moment.
The city hummed below them.
"How much?"
"Enough."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have,or any answer you get mister"
---
The news broke that afternoon.
"Vance Trust Acquired by Christabel Moreau."
"The Return of a Legacy."
"What Does This Mean for the Financial District?"
Christabel read the articles.
Then she set down the phone.
"Now they're really watching us," she said.
"Good."
"Fear is not respect."
"Fear is a start,your own words remember
---
That night, Christabel put Lena to bed.
Not Damien. Her.
She read her daughter a story. Not a baby book. A real story. One of her favorites.
"There was a woman who lost everything," she read. "So she built everything. And no one ever took from her again."
Lena stared at her.
"Bah," she said.
"That's right," Christabel said. "Bah."
---
Damien was in the doorway.
"She said it again."
"She said it to me."
"She said it to both of us."
She closed the book.
Set it on the nightstand.
"She's going to be powerful."
"She's going to be just like you."
"God help the world."
"God help anyone who tries to take what's hers."
---
They stood over the crib together.
Lena was asleep. Her tiny chest rose and fell.
"I'm proud of you," Damien said.
"For what?"
"For buying the bank. For taking back what was yours. For not being afraid."
"I was terrified."
"You didn't show it."
"That's the point."
---
The next morning, Christabel went to the bank.
Her bank.
The lobby was marble. The ceilings were high. The tellers were nervous.
She walked to the corner office.
The one that used to belong to her grandfather.
Sat behind the desk.
Looked out at the city.
"This is mine," she said to herself.
---
Sarah was in the doorway.
"You did it."
"We did it."
"I just watched. You did the work."
Christabel stood.
Walked to her sister.
"You kept the company alive. You kept me alive. You kept our family together."
"That's what sisters do."
"Not all sisters."
Sarah took her hand.
"We're not like them. We never were."
---
That afternoon, Christabel called a meeting.
Not with her lawyers. Not with her accountants.
With her mother.
"We need to talk."
"I've been waiting for this call."
"The bank is mine."
"I know."
"Your shares are worthless."
"I know."
"Then why aren't you fighting?"
Her mother was quiet for a moment.
"Because I'm tired."
---
Christabel's heart stopped.
"Tired?"
"Tired of fighting. Tired of losing. Tired of watching you become everything I wanted to be."
"You wanted to be me?"
"I wanted to be happy."
"Then why did you destroy everything?"
"Because I didn't know how else to be."
---
Christabel was silent.
The city hummed below her.
"I'm not going to forgive you," Christabel said.
"I know."
"I'm not going to forget what you did."
"I know."
"I'm not going to let you near my daughter."
"I know."
"Then why are you still here?"
Her mother's voice cracked.
"Because you're still my daughter."
---
Christabel hung up.
Her hands were shaking.
Her heart was pounding.
Damien was in the doorway.
"What did she say?"
"She said she's tired."
"Of what?"
"Of everything."
"Do you believe her?"
Christabel looked at him.
"I don't know."
---
That night, she couldn't sleep.
She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about her mother.
The woman who had raised her.
The woman who had abandoned her.
The woman who was tired of fighting.
Damien was awake beside her.
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
"I'm thinking about forgiveness."
"Can you forgive her?"
"I don't know."
"Can you forget what she did?"
"No."
"Then don't forgive her. Don't forget her. Just move on."
"Without her?"
"She moved on without you."
---
The next morning, Christabel went back to the bank.
Her bank.
She walked through the lobby. Past the tellers. Past the offices.
To the vault.
The one that had been in her family for generations.
She opened it.
Inside was a box.
Her grandfather's box.
She opened it.
Inside was a letter.
---
My dearest Christabel,
If you're reading this, then you've found the bank. You've taken back what was yours. You've become the woman I always knew you would be.
I'm proud of you.
I'm sorry I couldn't be there to see it.
But I know you're not alone. You have your sister. You have your husband. You have your daughter.
You have a family.
And family is the only thing that matters.
Love,
Grandfather
---
Christabel read the letter three times.
Then she closed the box.
Walked out of the vault.
Out of the bank.
Into the city.
---
Damien was waiting in the car.
"What did you find?"
"Everything."
"What?"
She looked at him.
"A reason to keep going."