The next morning, a girl with two braided pigtails, thick glasses, and light makeup stood in front of her mirror. Mia was getting ready for her first day working at RIC Group. Not wanting to disappoint Mr. Biromo, she took a deep breath—her nerves and hopes tangled in a silent storm beneath her chest.
Time was running out.
With quick steps and a pounding heart, Mia rushed toward the front door, unaware that someone was waiting for her.
Thud! "Oof!"
She stumbled and fell to the floor, wincing as she clutched her twisted ankle.
"Ah...!" she hissed softly.
In front of her stood a woman with shoulder-length curly hair, flashing a wicked smile—Agnes.
"You bitch!" Mia snapped, her fury exploding. She tried to stand and raised her hand toward Agnes.
But Agnes was quicker, brushing the hand away with a scoff.
"What? Trying to slap me?" she sneered.
"Funny. You're the one who fell, and yet you're blaming me?"
Agnes bent down leisurely and picked something off the floor—Mia's bag.
"I didn't do it on purpose. You're the one rushing around like you're possessed. I just wanted to take this," she said, raising the bag mockingly.
"Give me my bag, Agnes!" Mia shouted, eyes blazing.
"Don't mess with me!"
"My dear ugly sister," Agnes whispered cruelly, grabbing Mia's chin roughly, "is it so hard to share a little money with me? You've got plenty, don't you? Stop pretending you don't."
Her eyes burned with hatred—resentment that had long been simmering.
"And don't you dare fight back. Because if you do... you know what will happen," she added, her voice soft but sharp as a dagger.
Without waiting for a response, Agnes unzipped Mia's bag and yanked out her wallet.
"I think... this should be enough for today," she said coldly, counting the cash.
"No!" Mia gasped. She lunged forward, trying to grab her money back.
"That's my transportation money for the whole month, Agnes! Don't take all of it!"
Agnes shoved her backward. She waved the cash in the air with a mocking smirk.
"Too bad! It's mine now," she said with a glare.
"Anything that lands in my hands automatically belongs to me. That's my rule."
She chuckled coldly, savoring Mia's distress.
"Pathetic beggar," Mia spat, her voice low and trembling with rage.
"Your whole life depends on other people's money. It's disgusting."
Agnes's eyes narrowed. The smirk on her lips vanished, replaced by a chilling stare. The narrow hallway turned cold, thick with tension.
"You dare say that to me?" Agnes growled.
Smack!
A loud slap cracked across Mia's face. Her head jerked to the side, her cheek stinging red.
She went still, breathing hard. Her fingers slowly touched her burning skin. Her gaze locked onto Agnes—cold, but burning with fire.
"Thanks for the slap," Mia muttered, her voice sharp and low. "Now let me return the favor."
Smack!
This time, Mia's hand struck hard and unforgiving. Agnes staggered and fell to the floor, her hair a messy curtain over her face.
Mia leaned down, grabbed the money from Agnes's loosened grip, and stood tall again.
"How was my slap? Memorable enough?" she whispered coolly, almost taunting.
She lightly tapped Agnes's cheek before stepping away.
"See you later, little sister. If you didn't like that slap... maybe there'll be another gift waiting when I get home."
With firm steps and her chin held high, Mia left the house, leaving Agnes frozen on the floor—caught between rage and shame.
Outside, a sleek black car bearing the RIC Group logo was waiting. A chauffeur in a neat black uniform stepped out and opened the rear door.
"Good morning, Miss Mia," he greeted politely with a slight bow.
"Thank you, sir," Mia replied as she entered the car.
Once the door shut, she glanced at her watch.
"Sir, please take me straight to the RIC Group office. Use the fastest route possible. I can't be late on my first day," she said firmly, though still with courtesy.
"Yes, Miss."
The driver nodded and stepped on the gas. The car glided steadily through the city streets, carrying Mia forward—toward a new beginning.
Inside the quiet cabin, Mia pulled a slim laptop from her work bag. Her fingers danced swiftly across the keyboard, diving deep into the system, navigating the internal structure of RIC Group.
Ownership records, board of directors, key divisions, financial reports—even a hidden scandal from five years ago…
She accessed it all with ease.
As a former freelance hacker, spotting vulnerabilities and dissecting data came naturally to her.
"Hmph. So this is the company I'll be playing in now," she murmured with a small, calculating smile.
Once satisfied, Mia shut her laptop and tidied her appearance. Moments later, the driver's voice brought her back to reality.
"Excuse me, Miss. We've arrived at the RIC Group headquarters."
The driver stepped out and opened the door courteously. Mia nodded once.
"Thank you, sir," she replied, grabbing her bag and the documents from the seat beside her.
She looked up at the towering building before her—clad in sleek black glass, with the RIC Group logo looming high above in bold confidence.
Mia's steps were steady. She knew the world she was about to enter was filled with games, power, and manipulation.
But she was ready.
More than ready.
Mia walked briskly toward her new workplace. At RIC Group, she was now assigned as the personal assistant to the CEO, filling in temporarily for Rico's main assistant, who was currently on extended leave.
As she entered the grand lobby, cold stares and snide glances instantly rained down on her. Her modest outfit lacked any hint of high fashion, and her minimal makeup only made her a target for whispering coworkers who passed by with narrowed eyes.
But Mia didn't flinch. She ignored them all. Her focus was clear: do her job well and prove herself.
"Hah… I made it right on time," she exhaled quietly as she settled behind her desk. Opening her laptop, she drew in a deep breath and got straight to work.
"I'll start by reorganizing the client meeting schedule. Any meetings I find unimportant… yeah, straight to the blacklist," she muttered as she typed quickly and precisely, crafting a new agenda for the CEO.
She pulled out a physical planner and began transferring the updated schedule from her laptop to the handwritten notes. For Mia, writing things down gave her a greater sense of control and structure.
Just as she was immersed in her notes, the door to the office swung open.
A tall, striking man with a sharp presence entered the room with hurried steps.