Elsa's hands trembled as she read the email.
*Dear Elsa Moreau,*
*We're pleased to offer you the position of investigative journalist at Le Lumière, Paris's most prestigious magazine. We welcome you with the hope that you bring Le Lumière to its highest potential. Can't wait to work with you.*
*Congratulations.*
Elsa gasped.
"I can't believe this! Oh my God!"
She jumped excitedly.
"I've waited my whole life for this!"
She screamed to herself in the room before rushing out to share the good news with her loved ones. This was everything she had ever wanted, wished for, and hoped to be.
The next morning, she woke early—a clear contrast to her usual schedule—and got ready for her biggest day. At least, that's what she thought.
The doors of Le Lumière shut behind her like a verdict. She stood still, her gaze burning with fire. She could feel the weight of her name on the workers' lips. And worst of all, she felt him before even seeing him.
Lucien Valeur stood at the end of the hall. Suit sharp. Stare sharper.
She smiled like sin and walked up to him.
"You," he said flatly.
"Still breathing. Sadly, not what you wanted."
She replied sharply.
His lips curled.
"I'm surprised."
"I'll take that as your fear, then."
"Let's see how long you last."
"You sound so disappointed. There'll be more—as long as I'm here."
"Still proud and confident."
"You know better."
He scoffed at her reply.
"Yeah. Who can know better than me anyway?"
"I'm sure gonna make you regret messing with me!" she snapped.
He turned to leave but paused at her words.
"Show the same dedication towards your work, and I bet you'll have a company of your own."
He said over his shoulder and walked away, leaving her speechless.
They weren't always enemies. But Elsa always remembered that headline like a scar:
*"Étienne Moreau Accused in Valeur Media Scandal."*
Her father lost everything—his reputation, his career, his will to fight, and eventually his life.
She remembered how her father hung by the fragile thread of despair. The walls of their home held the silence of his last goodbye. And Lucien Valeur? He stood on a podium, ice in his voice, calling it a necessary cleansing of corruption.
So she wasn't here just for the job. She was here to dismantle the empire that buried her blood—and the man who smiled while it burned.
She wasn't going to spare Lucien. She was going to fight him until her last breath—until she succeeded.
"Elsa Moreau!" a woman called.
Elsa turned.
"Morning," she greeted in her usual humble tone.
"Morning. Your work starts tomorrow. Do show up on time, and congratulations."
With that, the woman walked away. Elsa watched her figure disappear.
"Tomorrow," she echoed, before hurrying out of the office.