Sophia didn't move for a full minute after the call ended.
Her fingers were still curled around the phone, but the weight of it now felt like a weapon—cold and humming with something volatile. She let her head rest gently against the glass, the soft vibration of the moving car anchoring her to the moment.
Vivienne Laurent had spoken like a queen reclaiming a stolen crown.
But Sophia?
She had no intention of giving up the throne.
By the time the car pulled up in front of the discreet, ivy-covered townhouse that held the L'Atelier administrative office, Sophia had composed herself into someone almost unrecognizable from the trembling woman who had recorded that audition tape just
She stepped out of the car like the city belonged to her.
Paparazzi didn't linger here—this wasn't that kind of space. But there were eyes everywhere. The entertainment elite thrived on whispers, and the first whisper always came dressed in silence.
Inside, the air smelled of aged wood, lavender, and ambition. Students moved like shadows, each chasing brilliance. A young assistant behind the reception desk blinked up at her with mild surprise. Sophia's presence was… unexpected.
"I have an appointment," she said. Calm. Cool. Measured. She gave her name and waited.
Moments later, a bespectacled woman in an oversized navy blazer approached her with a tight smile. "Sophia Cheng? We received your submission." A pause, then a curious tilt of her head. "Your piece was… unpolished. But it was real. That's rare."
Sophia nodded once. "That's all I have to offer."
The woman smiled. "That's usually where the most dangerous actors begin."
Back at the Cheng Penthouse
Leon stood on the balcony, sleeves rolled up, tie undone, a crystal tumbler of something dark and expensive in his hand. The city stretched below him like an empire of lights. But his gaze was elsewhere—far off, storm-clouded.
Veronica hovered behind him, tapping through emails. "Butler Fu confirmed. She was seen entering the L'Atelier building."
Leon said nothing. He sipped the drink slowly.
Veronica hesitated. "Vivienne called her."
That got a reaction. Just a flicker in his jaw, but it was enough. He turned slightly, eyes now sharp.
"She's not going to back down," Veronica said. "You underestimated her."
Leon's voice was low. "No. I just waited for her to wake up."
He handed her the glass and walked back inside.
Later That Night
Sophia returned to the penthouse well past midnight. After spending most of her afternoon at the Academy, she had gone over to Lu Xinyi's apartment to have some wine and just unwind.
And now, she was back, no lights on. No staff waiting with polite smiles or warmed towels. She'd dismissed them all for the night.
She didn't need them.
In the privacy of her closet, she peeled off her trench coat and heels, trading elegance for silence. Her reflection caught her eye in the full-length mirror—messy hair now, makeup smudged around her eyes like bruises. But she looked more alive than ever.
She moved to the safe tucked beneath a panel and unlocked it with trembling fingers.
Inside were three things:
A thumb drive
A letter written in cursive on aging paper
And a photograph of a young woman in a red dress—her Father. The only man who ever truly loved her. Enough to have adopted her when she was four years old.
Sophia stared at the photograph for a long moment.
"They will ruin you," her father had once whispered, fevered and wild-eyed in a hospital bed. "Unless you ruin them first."
Sophia had been seventeen. She hadn't understood then.
She did now
FLASHBACK – Four Years Ago
Shanghai – The Lin Estate, Rainfall like a funeral march
The day everything crumbled, the rain had come down in silver sheets, soaking the earth until even the roses looked drowned. The Lin estate—grand and cold like always—echoed with the kind of silence that follows betrayal. Not grief. Not mourning. Just rot dressed in silk.
Sophia Lin stood alone in the foyer, water dripping from the hem of her cheap black coat. The funeral had been brief. Efficient. Her adoptive father, Chairman Lin, buried beneath marble and magnolias while vultures circled his legacy with sharpened smiles.
"You're not on the will," the family lawyer had said, avoiding her eyes.
A lie. She'd seen the draft herself, weeks before the heart attack that silenced the only man who had ever truly loved her.
Now, she stood among strangers who had once called her sister.
From the staircase above, Mei Lin descended like a queen—draped in couture black, her hair twisted into a perfect knot. Beside her was Daniel Wei—Sophia's fiancé. Former fiancé. His arm rested lightly on Mei's waist, as if he'd always belonged there.
Sophia blinked, unable to speak. Her mouth moved but no sound came.
"Oh, Sophia," Mei said, voice sweet as poisoned honey. "I told you this place wasn't yours. You were a guest in our world. A charity case."
Sophia's nails bit into her palms. "Father—he changed the will. I saw it."
Mei's smile widened. "Did you, though? The court didn't. The bank didn't. Your debts are… impressive, by the way."
"I loved you," Sophia whispered, turning to Daniel, betrayal splintering through her voice like glass. "I trusted you."
Daniel gave a tired smile, one she'd once called kind. "Love doesn't build empires, Sophia. But money does. And Mei has it."
The final blow came wrapped in cruelty: Mei held out a manila envelope. Thick. Legal. Final.
"Here. Your severance from the Lin family. Enough to disappear. Quietly."
Sophia didn't move. Couldn't breathe.
"You think this is the end?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"No," Mei said, stepping closer, eyes sharp as razors. "This is the beginning. Of your place in the dirt."
The envelope hit the floor at Sophia's feet.
She didn't pick it up.
She turned, soaked to the bone, heart torn and splintering in her chest—and walked away without another word. Her heels echoed through the marble hall like funeral bells for the girl she used to be.
That was the night Sophia Lin died.
And somewhere in the ashes…
Sophia Cheng was born.
Present Day – Penthouse, Sophia's Bedroom
1:03 AM
Sophia pressed the photograph of her father to her chest, eyes wide open in the dark. The silence was heavy now—not comforting, not peaceful. It was the kind of silence that demanded decisions. War.
She placed the picture back in the safe with careful reverence and slid the thumb drive into her laptop.
The screen flickered to life, casting a cold blue glow across her face.
A single folder opened:
"Operation Phoenix"
Inside were subfolders—names, companies, passwords, debts, dirty money trails, whispered bribes, and crumbling facades. Mei. Daniel. The board members who voted her out. The judge who ruled against her in the inheritance suit. She had been watching them all.
She clicked on a video file labeled "W Garden, Room 806 - Daniel + Mei."
It began with the sound of laughter. Mei's laughter. Then Daniel's voice. Then silence. The kind that followed stripped clothing and ugly truths.
Sophia didn't flinch watching it now. She didn't feel anything. No anger. No sadness.
Only precision.
She was going to make them all pay, one after the other.