Ava started her day at the marketing firm already feeling drained, her bones heavy with the chaos of recent nights. She had tossed and turned in Dante's bed, the echoes of violence and whispered threats haunting her every thought. Yet as she stood in front of the mirror that morning, sliding on her blazer and fixing her hair, she whispered to her reflection:
" won't be swallowed by his world. Not here. Not today."
Her heart pounded with determination as she pushed open the glass doors of Callaham Marketing.
The familiar smell of coffee and printer ink hit her like a wave, grounding her in a place where she could almost pretend she was just Ava-the hardworking associate who wanted to climb the ladder, not the woman entangled with a dangerous man who ruled the city in shadows.
But the moment she stepped inside, the weight of eyes found her.
Colleagues gave her sidelong glances. Some whispered. Others smiled, though the smiles were thin, sharp with curiosity. Ava knew why-they had noticed her changes. The glow in her cheeks, the quiet steel in her walk, the invisible cloak of protection that seemed to follow her.
And one person in particular noticed the most.
Claire.
She sat at her desk like a queen on a throne, polished nails tapping against her mug, lips curved in a knowing smirk as Ava passed. Her eyes glittered with malice, every inch of her screaming challenge.
"Morning, Ava," Claire drawled, her voice dripping honey laced with venom. "Late night again?"
A few coworkers chuckled under their breath. Ava felt her stomach twist but refused to flinch. She walked on, chin high, heels clicking against the floor, her silence sharper than any reply.
But Claire wasn't done. She never was.
By mid-morning, Ava's team gathered in the conference room for an important client pitch. The firm had been chasing this account for months-a luxury fashion house with enough prestige to boost anyone's career. Ava had worked so hard perfecting the presentation, pouring every form of creativity into it.Today was her chance to prove she was more than just whispers and rumors.
She walked into the room with her laptop, her heart steadying with focus. This was her world. Numbers, ideas, visuals, strategy-things she could control.
Things no one could take from her.
But as she connected her laptop to the projector, the screen flickered and instead of her polished slides, chaos appeared. Images scrambled, files missing, charts misaligned. Her perfect work had been gutted.
The clients exchanged confused looks. Mr. Callaham frowned, his jaw tightening.
"What is this?" he demanded.
Ava's in shock . She clicked again, desperate, but the files were corrupted. Someone had sabotaged her presentation.she didn't need to guess who.
From the corner of the room, Claire leaned back in her chair, her smirk widening, eyes locked on Ava like a cat watching a mouse caught in a trap.
Heat rushed to Ava's face. For one trembling second, she thought about retreating-apologizing, excusing herself, letting humiliation swallow her whole. That's what she would've done months ago.
But…..
Not after every effort she had put in.
Ava straightened, shutting the laptop with a decisive snap. "Ladies and gentlemen," she said, her voice carrying through the room, steady but edged with fire. "What you were supposed to see was a presentation on how to reposition your brand to not just sell designs but to sell identity and empowerment".
The clients blinked, surprised.
Ava moved to the whiteboard, grabbing a marker.
Her hands shook for only a moment before strength steadied them. She began sketching out the core ideas from memory —taglines, campaign concepts, visuals she described with vivid words. Her voice grew firmer with each sentence, her passion filling the space.
"You don't need another generic luxury campaign.
You need something that burns. Something that says—'This brand isn't for everyone. It's for the fearless." She turned, eyes blazing. "Just like your clients".
Silence hung heavy in the air. one of the clients leaned forward, intrigued. Another nodded slowly, their expression shifting from confusion to interest.
Mr. Callaham's frown softened into something unreadable.
But Claire —Claire's smirk had vanished.
By the end of Ava's imprompt pitch, the clients were engaged, asking questions, scribbling notes.
The tension that had gripped the room had transformed into energy.
When it was over, Ava capped the marker and stood tall, her breath ragged but triumphant.
One of the clients smiled. "Unconventional. Bold. I like it".
A flush of pride rose in Ava's chest.
But before she could savor the moment, Claire's voice cut through the air, sharp and saccharine.
"Well." she said with a laugh, "that was certainly.. dramatic. But improvisation isn't professionalism.
Let's not forget Ava's actual presentation failed."
Gasps rippled through the room.
Something inside Ava snapped.
She turned on Claire, her eyes burning with a fury that had been caged for too long. "You're right, Claire," she said, her voice low, dangerous.
"Improvisation isn't professionalism . But neither is sabotage."
The room went dead silent. Claire froze, her smile faltering.
"You think I don't know what you did?" Ava continued, stepping closer, her tone rising.
"Deleting files, corrupting data—this isn't high school. This is business. And if you're so desperate to destroy me, then at least have the guts to do it without hiding behind your little tricks."
Claire's face drained of color. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do." Ava's voice cracked like a whip. "And so does everyone else. They've watched you.
They've seen your games. But here's the thing,
Claire—"She leaned closer to her words a hiss only they can hear "I'm not weak anymore. And if you come for me again, you won't just embarrass yourself. You'll lose everything."
The silence stretched, thick with shock. Colleagues stared, wide-eyed. Some even looked at Ava with something like admiration.
Claire's mouth opened, then shut. For the first time, she had no retort.
When the meeting ended, Ava walked out with her head high, her heart thundering in her chest. Her hands trembled from the adrenaline, but she forced herself not to look back.
Whispers followed her down the hall. Respectful.
She had stood her ground.
She had burned.
But in the shadows, Claire simmered. She stood by the window, her nails digging into her palms, a smile tugging at her lips though her eyes were dark with fury.
"She thinks she's won." she muttered under her breath, her voice venomous. "She has no idea."
Pulling out her phone, Claire dialed a number she had memorized well. Her voice lowered into a whisper.
"It's time. She embarrassed me today, and I won't let it stand. We move forward with the plan."
Her lips curved into a cold smile as she ended the call.
Ava left the office with a rare smile of victory, unaware that across town Claire's whispered words had set something dangerous into motion.
And though Ava felt stronger than she ever had before, a shiver slid down her spine—as if the shadows itself were watching.