Chapter 2: The Crack in the Mirror

The meeting room was empty now, but Rhea stayed behind, her eyes fixed on the projector’s dark screen. The ghost of her presentation still lingered on her mind—but so did Damian Vale’s voice.

"Maybe pride makes you blind."

She clenched her jaw, that one sentence echoing like a taunt. What did he think this was? Some sort of redemption arc where she suddenly questioned everything because a stranger tossed her a half-smile and a cryptic insult?

Not a chance.

Still, as she returned to her office, the silence was heavier than usual. She shut the door behind her, drawing the blinds, a rare move that made her team glance at each other nervously.

By instinct, Rhea reached for the Helios files on her desk—stacked neatly, untouched until now. She flipped through them, page by page, eyes scanning every figure, every date, every signature.

And then she saw it.

Page twelve. The invoice amount had been changed—subtly, just enough to go unnoticed if you weren’t the one who signed the original. But she had. And the discrepancy screamed at her now.

Her hand hovered over the intercom. “Marnie.”

A moment later, her assistant buzzed in. “Yes?”

“Get me the original Helios contract from six weeks ago. Hard copy. And don’t mention this to anyone.”

Marnie’s pause was brief, but telling. “Right away.”

When the line went silent, Rhea leaned back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling. Something was wrong. And worse—someone wanted it to look like it was her fault.

Her pride wasn’t just wounded now. It was alert. On edge. Because arrogance without competence was just noise—and Rhea Sloane was never just noise.

By the time three o'clock rolled around, she was waiting in the legal boardroom with two thick folders and a sharp smile. Across the table sat Marlene Cho, Head of Legal, flanked by two associates. And once again, just to twist the knife—Damian Vale.

"Didn't realize you had a legal degree too," Rhea quipped as he settled into the chair beside her.

"I don't," Damian replied calmly, folding his hands. "But I do like puzzles. Especially the messy kind."

Rhea's gaze didn't waver, but inside, her stomach twisted. He was here to observe. Evaluate. Judge.

The meeting began. The associates pointed out the financial inconsistencies. Marlene noted that all the errors were tied to transactions Rhea had signed off on.

Her pulse thudded behind her ears.

“I didn’t authorize any changes to those figures,” she said, voice firm. “Here’s the original contract.” She slid it across the table like a weapon.

Marlene raised a brow as she compared it to the altered version. “There’s a clear mismatch.”

“And I’d like to know who had access to the digital system after my approval.” Rhea's eyes swept the room. “Because that edit wasn’t mine.”

Damian leaned back slightly, fingers tapping the table. "Any idea who would benefit from discrediting you?"

Rhea smiled without humor. “Take your pick. There’s a line.”

Marlene closed the folder. “We’ll conduct a formal audit. Until then, we’ll need you to take a step back from Helios.”

Rhea didn’t flinch, but the weight of the words settled like a stone in her gut. Step back? From my own deal?

“Of course,” she said coldly. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

As the meeting ended, she stood swiftly, ready to walk out—until Damian’s voice stopped her.

“You handled that well.”

She turned to him. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not,” he said. “Most people would’ve panicked. Thrown someone else under the bus. You kept your cool.”

She tilted her head. “I don’t need your approval, Vale.”

He gave a small shrug. “You might not. But you’re about to need allies.”

That cut deeper than she expected.

As she returned to her office, her reflection caught her eye again in the glass. Still flawless. Still powerful. But this time… the mask didn’t quite sit as perfectly.

A crack had formed.

Not in her confidence.

In her trust.

And Rhea Sloane knew—when someone tried to tear you down, you didn’t beg. You didn’t cry. You rose higher. You became sharper. Louder. More dangerous.

If they wanted war, she’d give them one.

Even if the battlefield was her own mirror.

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