Morana's Point Of View
Thirty minutes later, it was time.
I stood in front of the mirror in my office, inhaling deeply, then exhaling through my nose.
Calm. Control. Confidence.
Nancy, stood beside me, her expression unreadable. "Are you ready?" she asked quietly.
I met her gaze through the reflection. "Born ready."
Another deep breath. A slow blink.
Showtime.
We stepped out of the office, and the moment I exited the building, chaos erupted.
Bright lights exploded in my vision.
Camera flashes went off in rapid succession, almost blinding me. The press swarmed like vultures, shoving microphones into my face, voices overlapping in a frenzy of questions and accusations.
"Miss Morana, do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"Why would you steal your sister's opportunity? Was this out of jealousy?"
"You've been out of the industry for years! Is this your desperate attempt to stay relevant?"
"A washed-up has-been like you shouldn't even be given a platform to speak!"
