Zara’s POV

Our sleek black Limo pulled up directly in front of Wesley Group like it belonged there. Like we belonged here. Because it was now ours to control. From outside, the glass building was tall, shiny, grand, and clearly built on the sweat and blood of innocent victims of the Wesley family. I could feel a dry sensation in my throat as I stepped out of the car in black heels and a crisp cream gown, showing my frame, and Z.S. Empire’s logo shining bright on the file I held.

Beside me ...