Natalie Evans stood by the tall glass windows of the penthouse apartment, the skyline of the city stretching out before her like a shimmering tapestry of opportunity and treachery. It had been months since she vanished from the social scene, leaving behind whispers and speculations. But her return, quiet and calculated, was no longer a secret. The world would soon know: Natalie Evans was no longer the woman they remembered.
She sipped her black coffee, her expression unreadable. Her reflection in the glass was calm, poised—but behind her eyes was a storm brewing.
Across the room, Layla, her loyal assistant and friend, tapped furiously on her tablet. "The press conference is confirmed for tomorrow morning. We have journalists flying in from London, Paris, and even Tokyo. It’s going to be huge."
"It has to be," Natalie said quietly, her voice calm but firm. "They’ve written my story for too long. It’s time I write the ending myself."
Layla paused, glancing up. "Are you nervous?"
Natalie
