Valeria stared up at the towering monolith before her: Langston Corporation Headquarters. Once her kingdom. Now, a huge reminder of everything she lost. She inhaled, the morning air sharp in her lungs. Maybe this can be a beginning—again. A better one. She crossed the plaza, head bowed to resist the stares. Workers bustled past her—some old workers , most new faces she’d never seen. She refused to let their gazes make her feel different . She was here for the Board. Someone had to fix this mess. Inside, she stepped into a silver-lined elevator. A mellow song drifted through the speakers—something corporate, polished, evergreen. She ignored it. Ascending. Doors slid open to the board floor. She halted, scanning the familiar paneled hallways. So little had changed since she deliberately left. At the Boardroom door, her pulse kicked up. She nodded, took a breath—and pushed it open. Inside, the Board was already seated. The CEO’s chair at the head sat empty, its back to her. Th

Knock. Knock. The sound echoed through the silence like a bullet through glass. Valeria flinched, eyes snapping to the front door. Huh? Her voice barely came out. “Who could that be?” She stood, wobbling slightly from the cold floor. The half-crushed papers, open letters, and wine-stained drafts scattered like battlefield debris beneath her feet. Quickly—frantically—she bent down, using her hands and feet to shove the mess toward the side of the room, forming a haphazard pile. She yanked an old bedsheet off the armchair and threw it over the heap like a burial shroud. Her heart raced as she caught her reflection in the dusty mirror. Pale. Weak. A shadow of the woman who once hosted governors and board members in cocktail gowns. She adjusted her wrinkled blouse, smoothed her hair with trembling fingers, and grabbed a bottle of mint spray from the cluttered table. A few quick spritzes into her mouth—desperate to mask the lingering stench of whiskey. Another knock. More ins

VALERIA’S APARTMENT 07:12 AM The room was too silent. Valeria stirred beneath the wrinkled sheets of her couch. The only warmth came from the blanket tangled around her legs. Then— Bzzz. A soft vibration. Followed by a ding. Her phone lit up from where it lay on the floor beside the empty chocolate box. Eyes barely open, she groaned and reached for it, her hand brushing through scattered petals from Lucas’s lilies. She squinted at the screen. [NEW NOTIFICATION: BANK ALERT] You have received $500,000,000.00 Her brows furrowed. She blinked again. Then sat up. Hard. “What?” Her heartbeat spiked. She tapped the screen. Then again. And again. No glitch. The amount stood solid—etched in black and white: INCOMING TRANSFER Amount: $500,000,000.00 Description: “Use this to start.” Valeria’s mouth fell open. Her chest rose and fell sharply. “This can’t be real.” She pinched herself. Twice. Then slapped her own cheek. No dream. No fantasy. Reality was staring her in

DAY 7 – GLOBAL TECH ASCENDANCY CHALLENGE GRAND CONVENTION CENTER, CENTRAL CITY – 9:05 AM A convoy of luxury white Rolls Royces lined up at the golden-carpet entrance. Valeria’s door was opened by a smartly dressed staffer. She stepped out—tall, poised, wrapped in a shimmering silver off-shoulder gown that reflected the morning sun like it owed her a favor. Flashbulbs exploded. Cameras clicked. But the questions were silent. No one shouted her name. No one asked her anything. They just stared. Some confused. Some judgmental. Some whispering the same question behind expensive sunglasses: “How did she even get here?” Valeria walked forward without flinching. Behind her, her team carefully wheeled in a reinforced silver box—the one that carried everything they had worked on for six exhausting days. Everything was riding on this. Everything. She reached the main hall, entering through glass doors that opened like a promise or a threat. Inside: the atmosphere was electric

The screams hadn’t died down yet. The scent of burnt metal and scorched wires lingered in the air . Panic rippled through the audience, security guards cleared the front row, and paramedics rushed forward in red and white uniforms—kneeling beside Maya’s body with urgency. “She’s still breathing!” one of them called out. “Her pulse is dropping!” another yelled. “Move! Move!” the third barked, as they lifted her gently onto a stretcher and wheeled her away, oxygen mask secured to her face. The doors swung open with a metallic hiss—two uniformed officers barged in, expressions grim. Valeria stood frozen at the center of the stage, her hands still smeared with the smoke-dust from Maya’s burned headset. Her mind whirled. Her breath staggered. The crowd stared in a haunting silence, phones raised, hashtags already spreading. And then— “Valeria Langston,” one officer said, “you are under arrest for negligence resulting in public endangerment and potential manslaughter. You have th