Winston Hedge Fund Headquarters, Midtown Manhattan, 48th floor.

The New York skyline stretched out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, but I was focused on the data.

Real-time trading figures scrolled across my iPad screen, a waterfall of green numbers.

Over the past week, I had liquidated all our jointly held assets with the Carlisle family, shorted three of their public companies, and cashed out 230 million dollars.

"Claire, the board meeting starts in ten minutes," Derek's voice came from the doorway.

I looked up and gave him a smile.

Today, I was wearing a black Alexander McQueen power suit, tailored as sharp as a knife. My hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and my lips were painted with Christian Louboutin's "So Kate" red.

The antique Carlisle silver bracelet was gone from my wrist.

In its place was a Patek Philippe Celestial watch—one I had bought with my own money.

"I'm ready."

In the boardroom, all twelve seats were filled by the top brass of the Winston pack. All Alphas, all men, with an average age of fifty-five.

The moment I walked in, all conversation stopped.

"Gentlemen." I walked to the head of the table—the seat Derek had intentionally left for me. "Thank you for being on time."

I clicked a remote, and the screen behind me lit up.

"For the past five years, the Winston-Carlisle joint investment portfolio has had an average annualized return of 8.7%," I said, pulling up a chart. "During the same period, the S&P 500 returned 12.1%, and the NASDAQ returned 15.3%."

A few of the board members exchanged uneasy glances.

"What's worse," I switched the slide, "is that by tying ourselves to the Carlisle family's outdated real estate and energy projects, we missed the entire tech boom. We didn't invest in AI, we didn't touch crypto, and we barely dipped our toes into biotech."

"Miss Winston," the oldest board member, a man who had known me since I was a child, spoke up. "The territorial security and political influence the alliance brings can't be measured purely by returns—"

"I can."

I cut him off. My voice was calm, but it left no room for argument.

"Last week, I unilaterally dissolved the moon-binding contract. Yesterday, my legal team completed the first round of asset division." I pulled up new data. "And guess what?"

The numbers on the screen began to jump.

The Winston family's independent tech fund was up 23% in the last five trading days.

A wolf-run biotech company we secretly invested in just received FDA approval for a supernatural drug, and its stock doubled.

And the Carlisle family's traditional assets—after I dumped them—were beginning to bleed.

"Security?" I smiled, a predator's smile. "Gentlemen, in this day and age, the only security comes from being faster, smarter, and more ruthless than your competition."

I walked to the window, my back to them, and looked down at the city below.

"When my father built this empire, there were twelve wolf packs in New York. Now, there are only six. Why? Because weak wolves get eaten."

I turned, my eyes sweeping over each of their faces.

"From this day forward, the Winston pack will no longer depend on anyone. No more political marriages, no more compromises 'for the good of the family'."

I clicked the remote one last time.

A scanned document appeared on the screen—the Dissolution Permit, freshly approved by the Elders' Council, stamped with a golden wolf-head seal.

"I am Claire Winston. The Alpha heiress of the Winston family."

"And I choose to run alone."

A long silence filled the room.

Then, Derek was the first to start clapping.

Slow, powerful applause, like a wolf king acknowledging a new leader.

One by one, all the board members rose to their feet.

It wasn't out of politeness; it was instinct—the instinct of a pack submitting to a true Alpha.