Lyla stared at her screen, her fingers lightly gripping her phone as she scrolled through the flood of comments under her post. The names standing out in bold—Crystal Miller, Mina Miller, Elliot Graham, Veronica Chen—each carried a weight that shook the industry, yet here they were, openly backing her.
Her heart swelled with warmth. She had chosen to walk this path alone, determined to carve out a name for herself without using her family's influence. And they had respected that. They never once revealed the truth, never interfered unless necessary.
Yet now, when things had spiraled out of control, they had stepped forward—not to expose her identity, but to shield her.
Their silent support, their cryptic words—it was their way of telling the world that she wasn't alone. That she would never be alone.
A lump formed in her throat as she whispered, "Crystal… Aunt Mina…"
