They Called Me Insane, Then I Took Back My Empire

The harsh fluorescent lights forced my eyes open. I blinked against the blinding white ceiling, the sharp smell of antiseptic burning my nose.

"Ah, you're awake," a voice said.

I turned my head. A doctor in a white coat stood by the foot of the bed, tapping a stylus against a tablet.

"Where am I?" My voice cracked, dry and hoarse.

"Mercy General," the doctor replied, stepping closer. "You collapsed on the sidewalk last night. Severe exhaustion and emotional shock."

I reached for the plastic tray table, my fingers fumbling against the edges. "My husband... did Isaac bring me in?"

The doctor shook his head. "An anonymous gentleman carried you into the emergency room. He paid your entire medical bill in cash and left before we could get a name."

"Anonymous?"

"He just wanted to make sure you were stable. Your phone is right there." He pointed to the small nightstand next to my bed. "Get some rest, Mrs. Dawson."

The doctor walked out, leaving me alone in the sterile room.

I grabbed my phone from the table and tapped the screen. Zero missed calls. Zero text messages.

Isaac hadn't even noticed I was gone. Or worse, he knew exactly where I was and simply didn't care.

I opened my social media feed. The very first post at the top of my timeline made my stomach violently twist.

It was Tina.

She stood in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of my living room. She wore my white silk robe, the one Isaac bought me for our anniversary. Her blonde hair rested neatly over her right shoulder.

The caption read: *The home that truly belongs to me is finally back.*

I zoomed in on the bottom right corner of the photo. A man's hand rested on the glass coffee table. Around his wrist sat a limited-edition Patek Philippe watch.

I had engraved the back of that watch myself. It was Isaac's.

My thumb hovered over the screen. They weren't just hiding an affair. They were flaunting it. They were trying to force me out of my own life, taunting me to react.

I shoved the thin hospital blanket off my legs. I grabbed the IV needle taped to my hand and ripped it out of my vein. A drop of blood rolled down my knuckles.

I wiped it on my skirt and marched out the door.

An hour later, the glass doors of Dawson Enterprises parted as I walked into the main lobby.

I pulled my ID badge from my purse and slapped it against the turnstile scanner.

A red light flashed. *Access Denied.*

I hit the plastic card against the glass again.

*Access Denied.*

"Ms. Dawson," a nervous voice called out.

I looked up. Greg, the board secretary, hurried across the marble floor. Two large security guards trailed closely behind him.

"Fix this scanner, Greg," I demanded, gripping the plastic turnstile. "I have a ten o'clock meeting with Mark."

Greg stopped a few feet away. He refused to meet my eyes. "That meeting is canceled. Actually, all your meetings are canceled."

"Excuse me?"

"Isaac called an emergency board session this morning," Greg mumbled, staring at his expensive leather shoes. "He presented medical documents. He claimed you are suffering from severe mental instability."

My jaw tightened. "I own fifty-one percent of this company. He can't suspend me."

"He can if the board votes you unfit to lead."

"Get out of my way." I shoved the turnstile. It wouldn't budge.

The private executive elevator chimed open. My father, Arthur Dawson, stepped into the lobby. He wore a crisp navy suit, his silver hair perfectly styled.

"Dad!" I yelled, waving my hand. "Tell security to let me up. Isaac is trying to steal my shares."

Arthur walked toward me, his expression entirely blank. He didn't look like a father seeing his daughter after a hospital stint. He looked like a judge delivering a sentence.

"Go home, Crystal," Arthur said. His voice echoed in the cavernous lobby, drawing stares from the receptionists.

"Did you hear what I said? Isaac locked me out of my own house. He's sleeping with Tina!"

"Lower your voice," Arthur snapped, glancing around at the whispering employees.

"No! He was screwing her on my sofa last night. Now he's locking me out of my company. You have to stop him."

Arthur adjusted his silk tie. "Isaac is doing what is best for Dawson Enterprises. Your erratic behavior is exactly why you are no longer fit to be CEO."

I stared at him. The lobby spun around me. "You knew."

"Tina is your sister," Arthur said smoothly. "She has a steady head on her shoulders. Sign your majority shares over to her. It will keep the peace in this family."

"Keep the peace?" I laughed. The sound was harsh, scraping against my dry throat. "You want me to hand my mother's company over to your bastard daughter?"

Arthur's face flushed purple. "You are completely out of control." He turned to the guards. "Escort her off the premises. If she comes back, call the police."

The two guards grabbed my upper arms.

"Don't touch me!" I thrashed against their grip.

They dragged me backward through the glass doors. The morning heat hit my face. They shoved me onto the concrete sidewalk.

I stumbled, scraping my palms against the pavement to catch my fall.

"Do not return, Ms. Dawson," one of the guards warned before turning around and locking the exterior doors.

I sat on the curb, staring at the towering skyscraper my grandfather built. My father had just sold me out to his mistress's daughter. Isaac had orchestrated the entire thing, isolating me, labeling me crazy, and stealing my legacy.

A low engine hum broke my focus.

A black Maybach pulled up to the curb, stopping inches from my scuffed knees.

The rear passenger window glided down.

A man sat in the back seat. He wore a tailored charcoal suit that screamed old money. His dark hair was perfectly swept back, and his sharp, angular jawline cast a harsh shadow against his neck. His eyes, a piercing icy blue, locked onto mine.

"Miss Dawson," he said. His tone held absolutely no pity.

I pushed myself off the ground, dusting the dirt from my skirt. "Who are you?"

"Someone who hates watching a rigged game." He leaned forward slightly. "You finally see them for what they are."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He picked up a thick manila folder from the leather seat next to him and extended it through the open window.

"Take it," he ordered.

I hesitated, then grabbed the heavy envelope. I flipped open the cover.

The first page was a DNA paternity test.

The second page was a private investigator's log.

I read the bold black text at the top of the summary sheet.

*Isaac and Tina: Five-Year Secret Relationship Timeline.*

My lungs forgot how to work. Five years. They had been sleeping together since before Isaac and I even got married.

I flipped to the next page.

*Investigation into the death of Eleanor Dawson. Conclusion: Foul Play.*

My mother.

My hands started to shake so violently the papers rattled against each other. I looked up at the man in the car.

"Where did you get this?" I demanded.

"The truth is expensive, Crystal. But it's rarely hidden forever." He pushed the heavy car door open.

He shifted over, leaving an empty seat beside him.

"If you want to cry, stay on the curb," he said, his gaze dropping to the file in my hands. "But if you want to take back everything that belongs to you... get in."