Wrong Girl, Kid—Try Again.

Halea Tffn was a force to be reckoned with—fiery red eyes gleaming under the glow of crystal chandeliers, her long burgundy hair perfectly styled to cascade over her shoulders like liquid silk. Dressed in a striking crimson gown that hugged her form, she moved through the ballroom of Velasia Towers with the confidence of someone who knew every eye in the room was on her.

The gala was in full swing, the chatter of the elite blending with the soft notes of the live orchestra. Halea had delivered her opening speech earlier, effortlessly charming the crowd with her wit and poise, earning waves of applause. Now, she sipped champagne at the edge of the room, watching the display of wealth and power unfold before her with an almost detached amusement.

Cassian, her manager, pushed through the crowd, his clipboard clutched tightly in one hand. "Halea, I swear, one more minute of you avoiding the spotlight and my blood pressure might actually explode," he said, his tone exasperated but familiar.

Halea smirked, swirling her champagne glass lazily. "Relax, Cassian. This is the part where they admire me from afar. It builds the mystique, you know?"

"And who told you that? Was it someone who understands marketing—or one of those poets you keep quoting to mess with me?"

Olivia joined them, a clipboard-less but no less focused presence. She gave Halea a knowing glance. "He’s only halfway to a meltdown. That’s a record for tonight."

Halea laughed softly, a sound that seemed to catch even more attention from those around her.

Leo, standing silently near the entrance with his ever-calm demeanor, kept his watchful gaze trained on the crowd. He didn’t need to say anything to make his point—he rarely did.

"Fine, fine." Halea sighed dramatically. "One more round through the adoring masses and then I’m calling it a night."

But she didn’t make her usual elegant circuit around the room. Instead, as soon as she spotted an opportunity—a small group of guests distracted by a conversation—she slipped toward the back exit.

---

The city greeted her with its familiar hum of energy, the streets gleaming from a light drizzle. Halea’s burgundy BMW waited in the private garage, untouched and pristine. She climbed in, the scent of leather wrapping around her like a comfort she didn’t realize she needed.

As the engine purred to life, she let herself relax for the first time that evening. There was no plan, no audience, no Cassian’s endless scheduling—just her and the open road.

She drove through the quieter streets of Celestara City, neon lights flickering against the rain-slicked pavement. The rhythmic hum of the engine was oddly soothing, and Halea found herself smiling faintly, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel as she left the noise of Velasia Towers behind.

Velure Avenue stretched ahead, promising solitude. Halea pressed her foot lightly on the accelerator, her heart light in a way it rarely was.

---

And then it happened.

Her phone buzzed on the console, Cassian’s name lighting up the screen. With a soft scoff, she glanced at it for barely a second—a second too long.

Something darted across the road—a stray dog caught in the faint glow of her headlights.

Halea gasped, wrenching the wheel to avoid it. The tires screeched as the car swerved violently, sliding across the wet asphalt. Metal crunched against an unyielding surface. Glass shattered, raining around her like broken starlight.

Her chest heaved as pain radiated through her body, her vision swimming. Faint voices echoed, distant and distorted.

"Halea! Halea, stay with us!" Cassian’s voice, sharp with panic, reached her ears.

"She’s losing consciousness—get help!" Leo’s calm control cracked slightly, urgency creeping into his tone.

"Halea, don’t close your eyes!" Olivia’s voice trembled, a rare sign of her composure breaking.

Halea tried to speak, tried to move, but the darkness closed in too quickly.

---

The next thing she felt was pain—a dull, relentless ache pounding in her head. Slowly, she stirred, her breath unsteady. The scent of unfamiliar lavender drifted toward her, and as she forced her eyes to open, an elegant and unfamiliar ceiling came into view.

Her surroundings were strange, the finely carved designs in the plaster unlike anything she had ever known. She blinked, trying to make sense of it.

"Mama?"

The voice startled her. Small, hesitant, trembling.

Halea turned her head, her fiery red eyes meeting the wide, tear-filled gaze of a little boy standing beside the bed. He clung to her arm as though she might disappear if he let go.

"…Wrong girl, kid," she muttered dryly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Try again."

The effort was too much. Her consciousness faded once more, and everything went black.

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