A cold smile touched my lips. Chloe thought she had disabled the dressing room cameras months ago. She hadn’t realized that a “clumsy” assistant tripping over a power strip three weeks ago had quietly reconnected the localized network feed.
Above us, the booming voice of a professional announcer echoed through the stairwell from the main floor PA system.
“Ladies and gentlemen, members of the press, please direct your attention to the main stage. Representing the future of global beauty, please welcome the CEO of Aura Cosmetics, Ms. Chloe Sterling!”
The muffled roar of applause vibrated through the concrete walls. The press conference had officially begun.
“And joining her today, to solidify the most historic acquisition in cosmetic history, the executive delegation from Vance Retail!”
“They are expecting my father’s senior Vice President,” I said, looking at Marcus. “Let’s give them an upgrade.”
Marcus tapped his earpiece. “Vance detail, this is Marcus. The package is secure. Move to breach formation at the main floor double doors.”
I walked down the final flight of stairs toward the massive double doors leading directly into the back of the event space. Through the small glass windows, I could see the blinding flash of hundreds of cameras.
I saw Chloe on the elevated stage. She looked radiant, powerful, and triumphant. Zara and Leo were standing near the wings, clapping with manicured elegance. A massive table draped in white cloth sat in the center of the stage, bearing a single, thick leather contract binder and a gold pen.
Chloe stepped up to the microphone, her perfect smile gleaming.
“Today is a new era for Aura Beauty,” Chloe’s voice echoed through the massive warehouse, smooth and practiced. “By joining forces with Vance Retail, we are guaranteeing that our standard of absolute perfection, safety, and luxury will reach every corner of the globe.”
She looked toward the back doors, expecting an old, gray-haired executive in a suit to walk down the aisle and hand her the keys to the kingdom.
“Open them,” I told Marcus.
Marcus pushed the double doors open violently.
The heavy thud echoed above the music. The journalists and influencers seated in the back rows turned around in annoyance, which immediately shifted into absolute shock.
I stepped through the threshold. Marcus was instantly at my right shoulder. Four more massive, identically dressed Vance bodyguards fell into a perfect diamond formation around me as I began the long walk down the center aisle.
The room grew eerily quiet. The photographers, sensing the undeniable shift in power and atmosphere, began snapping frantically, the flashes lighting up the aisle like a lightning storm.
I kept my eyes locked entirely on the stage.
As I walked closer, I saw Zara in the wings. Her jaw actually dropped, her eyes wide as she tried to comprehend why the disposable assistant she had locked in a closet was currently walking down the aisle surrounded by elite corporate security.
Then, I looked at Chloe.
The triumphant smile on her face didn't fade—it shattered. She gripped the edges of the podium. She blinked rapidly, her brain short-circuiting as she recognized my face beneath the severe styling, and then recognized the Vance Retail corporate pin gleaming on my lapel.
I reached the bottom of the stage steps. Marcus and the detail stopped, forming an impenetrable wall blocking the aisle.
I walked up the carpeted stairs alone. I walked directly to the contract table.
Chloe stood frozen behind the microphone, her chest heaving. “Harper?” she whispered, the microphone catching the terrified tremor in her voice. “What… what is this? Security! Dave!”
Dave rushed from the wings, reaching for my arm.
Before he could touch me, Marcus materialized at the edge of the stage, his suit jacket opening just enough to reveal the tactical holster at his hip. “Touch the Executive Vice President of Vance Retail, and you will leave this room in a trauma helicopter,” Marcus stated calmly.
Dave froze, backing away slowly.
I stepped up to the microphone, standing shoulder to shoulder with a paralyzed Chloe Sterling.
I adjusted the mic. I looked out over the sea of silent, stunned journalists.
“Good afternoon,” I said, my voice echoing with crystal clarity. “My name is Mia Vance. Executive Vice President of Vance Retail, and daughter of Chairman Arthur Vance.”
The room erupted into chaotic, deafening gasps. Camera shutters fired in a continuous, blinding wave.
Chloe physically staggered backward, her stiletto catching on the carpet. “No,” she gasped, her face draining of all color. “No, that’s impossible. You… you’re my assistant.”