Maya Luke Johnson had never trusted mirrors.
They were too honest when she was least prepared for the truth.
She stood in the quiet of her bedroom, the soft hum of the city drifting through the half-open windows behind her, and studied the woman staring back at her from the glass. The white dress flowed gently over her brown skin, the silk catching the light in ways that made her look softer than she felt. White was supposed to mean peace. For Maya, it meant control — a way of hiding the stains no one else was allowed to see.
Her curly hair framed her face in stubborn spirals, refusing discipline the same way she had learned to refuse vulnerability. She had pulled most of it back, but loose tendrils still kissed her cheeks, reminding her that not everything in her life could be mastered.
Her brown eyes looked tired.
Not physically — she could hide exhaustion with makeup and posture — but emotionally. They held memories she had never learned to put down.
She leaned closer to the mirror, studying the faint scar near her collarbone, the one no one ever noticed unless she wanted them to. Her father had called it weakness when it happened. He had called her weakness. She remembered that night more clearly than she wanted to: the broken glass, the raised voice, the lesson disguised as discipline.
Never let them see you bend, he had said.
And she hadn't. Not since.
She straightened, smoothing the fabric of her dress, slipping her feet into heels that were expensive enough to be mistaken for confidence. On the bed behind her lay a black envelope embossed with a golden crest — the symbol of everything she despised.
Williams Global Holdings.
She didn't need to open it. She already knew what it said.
Tonight was not a celebration.
Tonight was a confrontation.
The conference room hours later felt like a courtroom disguised as an office.
Maya sat at the head of the long glass table, the skyline stretching behind her in hard, uncaring lines. Around her sat the people who had helped her build her company — Daniel with his tired eyes and loyal heart, Laila with her sharp instincts and quiet fear, and four other partners who tried not to look as desperate as they felt.
"This slide narrates all the meetings we've had with our business partners over the last six months," Daniel said, clicking the remote.
The screen came alive.
Downward lines. Red arrows. Percentages that told the story of a slow, painful death.
"Our revenue has fallen by twenty-seven percent," Laila said, her voice measured. "And most of those clients didn't just leave. They were convinced to leave."
Another slide appeared — a wall of company logos that once belonged to Maya's firm.
Now each one wore the mark of Williams Global.
"They didn't take our business," Maya whispered. "They took our trust."
Daniel nodded. "Three partners ended contracts without warning. Two more are in negotiation with Williams right now. If they leave… we won't survive another quarter."
Maya stood, walking slowly toward the screen. She stared at the blue logo burning into her vision.
"They toyed with us," she said. "They weakened us. And now they want to play hero?"
"They're offering a partnership," Laila said softly. "Shared territory. Financial backing. A safety net."
"They want to own us," Maya snapped.
"They already do," Daniel replied quietly.
Silence wrapped the room.
"Vivian Williams requested your presence at the succession party tonight," Laila added. "It's about her son. Eren."
Maya felt something twist in her chest.
"I won't beg," she said.
"No one is asking you to," Daniel answered. "Just listen."
Her phone vibrated.
The invitation.
Waiting.
She closed her eyes, inhaled, and made the only decision she could.
"I'll go."
The Williams estate glowed like a monument to power.
Light spilled through towering windows, reflecting off polished stone and gold-lined staircases. Black cars lined the driveway in obedient silence. Inside, the city's elite gathered in clusters of perfume, silk, and ambition.
Maya entered dressed in white.
The room noticed.
She felt the weight of every stare — the curiosity, the judgment, the quiet delight in her discomfort. She was a spectacle now, not a threat.
Then Vivian Williams appeared.
"Maya Luke Johnson," Vivian said with a thin smile. "You actually came."
"You invited me," Maya replied.
Vivian's gaze swept her slowly. "Still wearing white. How symbolic."
"I'm here for business."
Vivian laughed softly. "Your business is barely breathing. We invited you to observe."
"Observe what?"
"How gracefully everything you built is slipping away."
The words struck like a slap.
Conversations nearby faded. People pretended not to listen, but everyone heard.
Maya felt heat behind her eyes, but she did not cry.
"Enjoy your celebration," she said.
She turned and walked away.
She did not look for Eren Williams.
She did not wait to be introduced.
She left.
Outside, the night air tore through her lungs.
She had come to listen.
She had stayed to be humiliated.
And she left knowing only one thing —
The Williams family had not finished with her.
And she was done playing nice.
The drive back to Maya's estate felt endless.
The city lights blurred into streaks beyond the windshield as she gripped the steering wheel too tightly, her knuckles whitening with every mile. The silence inside the car was louder than the music she had turned off minutes ago. Every word Vivian had spoken replayed in her head like a cruel echo.
Your business is barely breathing.
We invited you to observe.
By the time the iron gates of her estate slid open, her chest was aching.
She pulled into the driveway and slammed the car door harder than she meant to. The sound cracked through the quiet night like a gunshot.
Inside the house, the lights were dim, the air carrying the faint smell of lavender — Sophia's favorite candle. Maya kicked off her heels and was heading for the staircase when a familiar voice stopped her.
"Wow. You look like you just survived a war."
Sophia sat sprawled across the couch in Maya's living room, legs tucked beneath her, a bowl of popcorn resting on her stomach. A movie played on low volume, forgotten.
Maya froze.
"Sophia?" Her voice wavered despite herself. "What are you doing here?"
Sophia muted the television and stood. "Your security let me in. I told them you'd be emotionally unstable when you got back."
Maya let out a breath that almost became a laugh — almost.
Sophia crossed the room in three long steps and wrapped her arms around her. "Come here."
Maya resisted for half a second.
Then she collapsed into her best friend's embrace.
The tears she had swallowed all night finally burned free. Sophia held her without questions, without lectures, just steady warmth against her shaking body.
"It was horrible," Maya whispered into her shoulder. "She humiliated me."
"I know," Sophia murmured. "I saw the invite. I knew it wouldn't end well."
Maya pulled back, wiping her cheeks angrily. "I didn't even meet him. I didn't wait. I couldn't."
Sophia grinned. "Forget them. You don't need an audience for how amazing you are."
Maya sank onto the couch beside her, exhausted, the weight of the night finally settling in her bones.
Sometimes, she didn't want power.
Didn't want boardrooms, rivals, or legacies.
Sometimes she wished she lived in another world — a quiet one, where mornings didn't begin with panic and nights didn't end in humiliation. A world where all she had to do was sleep, wake up, and eat. No expectations. No battles. No names trying to erase hers.
"Sometimes I just wish…" Maya's voice broke slightly, "…I could be in another world, Sophia."
Sophia noticed the faraway look in her eyes. "You look… lost. Talk to me."
"I just… want a world where I could sleep, wake, eat… and nothing else. No fights. No business. No people trying to crush me at every turn. Just… peace."
Sophia's eyes softened. She reached out, taking Maya's hand gently. "That doesn't sound so bad," she said. "Even if it's just for a little while, you deserve that. But just so you know you ,you are going to be broke as fuck ."
Maya's fingers tightened around Sophia's hand. "I don't know what I would do without you."
Sophia grinned, rolling her eyes. "Probably cry into a pint of ice cream and call me at 2 a.m., like usual."
Maya laughed, small but real. "Yeah… probably."
Sophia smirked, flopping back on the couch. "Come on, Maya… let's get laid tonight."
Maya blinked. Then laughed sharply. "You're crazy. I'm going to take a shower before I start listening to your nonsense."
Sophia called after her, still laughing, "Suit yourself! I'll save the popcorn for your dramatic return!"
Maya rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling. Despite the day, the humiliation, and the stress, moments like this — with Sophia — made everything feel a little lighter.