Mia smiled. “I’m used to that.”
The weeks were brutal.
Accounting. HR. Operations. Reports impossible to finish. Silence. Cold stares.
Especially from Victor Hale—a former ally of Gozon.
“You don’t belong here,” he sneered. “One dramatic scene and you think you’re special?”
Mia met his gaze. “And you? What were you taught?”
Victor said nothing.
Later, funds went missing.
And the blame pointed to Mia.
Logs were altered. Records twisted.
But Mia studied. Cross-checked. Waited.
One name appeared again and again.
V. Hale.
At the board meeting, her voice shook—but the data didn’t.
“This is the proof.”
Silence.
Victor protested. Isabelle cut him off.
“The problem isn’t the system,” she said. “It’s greed.”
Victor was removed.
Three years later, Le Ciel had changed.
No shouting. No fear.
Mia stood in the top-floor conference room—not powerful, but steady.
“I climb,” she said quietly, “so others don’t have to kneel.”
That night, she returned to Le Ciel as a guest.
Mia stepped in first.
“It’s okay,” she smiled. “You’re safe.”
No humiliation. Just humanity.
Later, her phone buzzed.
If you’re changing the industry… I want in.
Mia looked out at the city.
She remembered the floor.
And the moment she stood.
Some stories don’t end.
They rise—and make room for others to rise too.
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