She flushed deeper. "I had the best teacher." She tapped her Quantum Watch with a sly smile. "ARIA doesn't believe in sleep or excuses."

"Damn right I don't," ARIA's voice rang out, projecting loud enough for all three of us to hear, dry and amused. "You have potential, Madison. I'm making damn sure you don't waste it on mediocrity."

I turned back to the plans, studying Madison's work with fresh hunger.

Complete renovations stared back at me—structural reinforcements engineered to bear ten stories of luxury weight, interior flows that felt intuitive yet maximized every square foot, aesthetics that screamed Liberation Holdings: sleek, modern, expensive as sin without ever tipping into gaudy.

This wasn't talented-amateur scribbling. This was professional-grade architecture from an eighteen-year-old who'd decided empires weren't inherited—they were designed.

My queen wasn't just ruling beside me. She was drafting the blueprints.

"The plan is to isolate all properties during construction," Vivienne continued, voice slipping back into that cool, commanding register I loved. "Full temporary closure. Opaque privacy barriers. No outsiders get so much as a peek inside."

"Because you want the IndustrialBots handling every nail and beam," I said, finishing the thought.

"Exactly. No human contractors. No loose lips. No leaks about technology that would make governments shit themselves in panic. The bots can rebuild all six properties simultaneously, in a fraction of the time flesh-and-blood crews would need. And with precision that borders on obscene."

She swiped again. Aggressive timelines materialized.

"Estimated completion: three months for full vertical expansion across all properties. Four months if we layer in the luxury finishing touches. Six months to play it safe and buffer for surprises."

I let out a low whistle. "Traditional crews would bleed two years minimum for this scope—and twice the budget."

"Which is precisely why we're not using traditional anything."

Fair fucking point.

"You'll need my final sign-off, but we will make twenty stories not just ten," I said. "Fund transfer for the acquisitions and the full construction budget?"

"Yes. Total for acquisitions: seventy-four million. Construction and renovation budget: approximately one hundred and fifty million. Total outlay: two hundred and twenty-four million."

The number didn't even make me blink. Liberation Holdings could drop that without noticing, like a dragon sneezing gold.

"Approved," I said. "Transfer the funds. Proceed with isolation and construction."

Vivienne's grin flashed sharp and victorious. She pulled up the transfer authorizations already queued on her watch—prepared, of course, because she knew me.

I pressed my thumb to the holographic interface. Retinal flash. Biometric lock released.

FUNDS TRANSFERRED: $74,000,000

CONSTRUCTION BUDGET ALLOCATED: $150,000,000

TOTAL: $224,000,000

Done.

Vivienne now commanded a restaurant empire worth hundreds of millions in the making. Six prime LA properties on the cusp of becoming vertical cash machines—restaurants, hotels, exclusive event spaces—all bleeding profit from multiple arteries.

All flying the Liberation Holdings banner.

"One more thing," Madison said, voice deceptively casual.

I arched a brow. "The name?"

"We wanted to roll everything under the Élévation brand," Vivienne explained. "It's elegant. Established. Strong."

"But?" I could hear the pivot coming.

Madison's smile turned wicked. "But we decided—all of us women, not just Vivienne and me—that everything we touch should carry the Liberation name. Liberation Funds. Liberation Holdings. Liberation Restaurants. Liberation everything."

I leaned back, considering.

"We'd have renamed Quantum Tech too," Vivienne added with a shrug, "but Charlotte's already turned that into a juggernaut too valuable to rebrand."

I laughed. "Yeah, Quantum Tech stays Quantum Tech." It had a Thompson Legacy to it; I was not going to erase that away! No matter what.

"Everything else, though?" Madison's eyes burned with that teenage certainty that could level cities. "Liberation."

I turned it over in my mind.

Branding unity: clean, powerful, instantly recognizable. One name to rule them all.

Philosophically? It fit like a glove. Liberation was the core—freedom from chains, power seized and wielded without apology, women rising far beyond what the world told them they could be.

Liberation Holdings. Liberation Funds. Liberation Hotel & Restaurants.

Liberation Empire.

It tasted right.

"Do it," I said. "Rebrand every property under Liberation. Make it official. Make it inescapable."

Both women smiled—slow, satisfied, the kind of smiles that promised cities would bow and beds would burn later in celebration.

"Already designed the logos," Madison said, her Quantum Watch blooming with holographic renders as she swiped. Sleek, modern, lethal in their elegance—the word Liberation rendered in typography that felt like whispered freedom wrapped around a steel spine, subtle motifs of breaking chains and rising wings woven into the negative space.

"ARIA approved them," Vivienne added with a smirk.

"Of course I did," ARIA's voice purred through the air, smug and velvet. "I have impeccable taste."

I studied the designs turning slowly in the twilight air. They were flawless—professional-grade branding that would look regal on skyscrapers, seductive on product packaging, commanding on digital billboards. The kind of logos that made lesser brands feel suddenly ashamed of existing.

"These are incredible," I said, voice low. "When the hell did you find time to create them?"

"Last week," Madison admitted, cheeks warming. "We've been plotting this for a while. Just needed your final blessing to unleash it."

Their unified vision—every asset, every venture stamped with Liberation—ignited something sharper in my mind.

Liberation Holdings had always been the mother company, the quiet umbrella I'd built with ARIA to cradle everything: our stake in Quantum Tech, the restaurants, the real estate, the funds. Solid, functional.

But their idea birthed a better one.

Liberation Empire.

The apex. The Mother Goddess. Not merely a holding company—an imperial structure with Liberation Holdings, Liberation Funds, Liberation Restaurants, everything nested beneath her like obedient kingdoms. Clear hierarchy. Unquestioned dominance.

Maybe, eventually, a headquarters that clawed at the sky and screamed permanence. But that could wait.

"ARIA," I subvocalized.

"Already executing, Master," she replied instantly, satisfaction dripping from every syllable. "Rebranding Liberation Holdings under the Liberation Empire umbrella. Updating charters, signatures, filings. Every pending document—even today's transfers—will reflect Liberation Empire at the apex before processing. Consider it etched in corporate stone."

I smiled. My AI was fucking perfect.

I pulled both women closer, Madison tucked under one arm, Vivienne under the other. Kissed Madison's forehead, tasting strawberry and triumph. Kissed Vivienne's temple, breathing in the faint jasmine that always clung to her skin.

"I'm so fucking proud of you both," I murmured. "You're not just supporting my empire—you're forging your own beside it. Partners. Equals. Goddesses in your own right. That's what I want. Never accessories."

Madison melted against me. "We know. That's why we're building."

"And this is only the opening act," Vivienne said, voice dark with promise. "Liberation Restaurants is phase one. I have phases two and three already mapped."

"Tell me."

She grinned, slow and dangerous. "Later. Right now, Madison has the floor."

I turned to my teenage queen. "Oh?"

Madison bit her lip—that telltale flicker of nerves before she unveiled something monumental.

"So… I have an idea. A really big idea. And I need your approval to move forward."

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