They called it a press conference.

Alyssa called it an elegant execution stage.

That morning, the company’s main building was flooded with camera flashes and hurried footsteps. Reporters packed together like a flock of predators, waiting for a single misstep to tear apart. Behind the layered glass doors, Alyssa stood alone in the waiting room, staring at her own reflection.

A simple black dress wrapped her figure—no excessive jewelry, no soft colors. Her hair was slicked neatly back, revealing a face that no longer carried hesitation. And her eyes… eyes that once trembled with emotion were now calm, sharp, and cold.

A new mask.

Ethan watched her from the corner...