The aftermath of Lucien Thorne's press conference was a global firestorm. Anya found herself trapped in the luxurious Master's Suite, watching her own face plastered across every news channel and social media feed. The headline was always some variation of: "CEO Thorne's Shocking Decree: The Homeless Delivery Girl is Our Beloved Treasure."
She scrolled through the comments, her stomach twisting. Most were speculative, but a poisonous, growing minority were fueled by professional slander—and she quickly found the source.
Elara Vane.
Anya didn't know the name, but Elara was everywhere, giving calculated, tearful interviews. A beautiful woman with an air of aristocratic sorrow, Elara was the de facto social queen who had always been tipped as a future Thorne Group ally. She was the one whose family, Vane Industries, Lucien had casually liquidated just hours earlier.
Elara Vane (on a live stream, feigning distress): "It breaks my heart to say this, but Anya is not who she seems. She is a known manipulator, desperate for a ticket out of poverty. She must have stalked poor Lucien, preying on his grief for his late pet. I truly worry for his sanity. This is a scam, and the Thorne family's honor is being tarnished."
Anya threw the tablet onto the bed. Elara's accusations—that Anya was a manipulative gold-digger—were sticking, especially among the skeptical elite. Anya felt a terrifying sense of isolation. Lucien's protection was overwhelming, but it felt like a gilded cage.
Suddenly, a loud, cheerful voice broke through the silence of the suite. "Well, hello there, little spirit! You're much tinier in this life, aren't you?"
Anya spun around. Standing in the doorway, escorted by a baffled security guard, was a man who looked like a magazine cover come to life. He had vibrant silver hair, a blinding smile, and a leather jacket over a custom-made silk shirt. This was Jax Thorne, Lucien's estranged younger brother and an internationally renowned rock star.
"I'm Jax," he announced, striding into the room and immediately pulling Anya into a casual, warm embrace. "Don't worry about these walls. Lucien's just paranoid." He winked. "He always was terrible at sharing the good things."
Jax held Anya at arm's length, his sharp eyes examining her. Unlike Lucien's intense, possessive stare, Jax's look was purely curious and affectionate.
"I heard the sound recording," Jax said, his voice dropping slightly. "That high, distressed trill when you almost dropped the vase. Only she ever made that sound when she was truly terrified. That's my little Mia." He reached out and gently rubbed his knuckles over the top of Anya's head, exactly where her hairline met her forehead.
A wave of overwhelming, confusing calm washed over Anya. Her human mind rebelled, but her instincts sighed with relief. She leaned into the touch for a fleeting second before catching herself.
"I am not Mia, or your pet," Anya mumbled, stepping back. "I am Anya, and I need help getting out of this absurd situation."
Jax laughed, a rich, genuine sound. "Absurd? Maybe. Getting out? No chance. Not after that stunt Elara Vane just pulled. You're part of the family now, kiddo. And we protect our own."
He pulled out a second tablet, this one streaming the interview with the Fake Heiress, Elara Vane. "Lucien is already destroying her company, but she's attacking your character. That requires a different kind of correction."
The Second Face-Slapping Scene
Jax pulled a headset from his pocket and tossed it onto the bed. "I'm supposed to be on tour in Tokyo, but this is way more fun. Watch this."
He walked over to the immense floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the city. Without warning, he began speaking loudly, his voice instantly clear and commanding. He was live-streaming to his own personal, massive global audience.
Jax (Live to 50 million viewers): "Hey, fans! I know I'm supposed to be practicing for the Tokyo show, but I had to pause because my brother finally found his soulmate—and mine, apparently. My beloved snow-cat, Mia, is back. She's reincarnated as this gorgeous little human named Anya. You've probably seen the news."
He paused, a calculated, menacing smirk spreading across his face.
Jax (Continuing): "Now, I hear some desperate, jealous old socialite named Elara is trying to spread lies that Anya is a scammer. Listen closely, Elara. I was the one who personally gifted Mia to Lucien five years ago. I know her soul better than anyone. If you continue to open your mouth, I will personally ensure your entire family legacy is erased from the internet, every song I've ever written will be about your pathetic jealousy, and you will never receive a legitimate social invitation again. Mia deserves love, not trash talk."
He ended the stream with a peace sign and a dazzling, casual grin. The silence in the suite was deafening once more.
Anya stared at him, dumbfounded. "You just... threatened a major social figure and used your rock star platform to defend a cat?"
Jax shrugged, pocketing the headset. "Well, she is the family pet. And I hate snooty rich girls. Now," he clapped his hands together, his mission accomplished. "Lucien is tied up with lawyers. I'm taking you shopping. We need to replace these sweatpants with something worthy of a pampered spirit. Fast-paced plot, remember? Let's move!"
Anya realized she was no longer alone, nor was she free. She was simply being transferred from the overbearing control of one powerful patron to the overbearing spoiling of another. The Group Pampering had officially begun, and the conflicts were escalating quickly.