The morning light spilled across the marble floors of Wolfe Holdings, but for Mira, it didn't feel like sunlight. It felt like a spotlight—focused, deliberate, almost accusatory. The corridors were still humming with yesterday's tremors: whispers of fear, awe, and uncertainty. She walked through them with her heels clicking lightly, measured, and purposeful.
Employees glanced up, froze, or quietly averted their eyes. Some smiled nervously. Others tried to hide their surprise. All of them were noticing her differently today. She didn't stop to bask in it. She didn't need to. Mira's power wasn't loud—it was precise, undeniable, and electric.
ArcLight had been her baby from day one. At Nexa Interiors, she had been untouchable, the best designer anyone knew. Here, in Wolfe Castle, she had been underestimated, underappreciated, and under scrutiny. Not anymore. Not after the purge. Not after Ethan had shown everyone where the line was.
