Mariana watched James from afar as he exited the boardroom, shoulders heavy, his expression darkened by recent failures. She didn't feel joy at his downfall—only a quiet, righteous satisfaction. The man who once dictated her life now struggled to keep his own empire from crumbling. It wasn't revenge. Not yet. But it was justice, unfolding slowly.
Earlier that day, Mariana had quietly finalized a deal through one of her companies—one of the very projects James had mocked when she first proposed it years ago, hidden under the pseudonym Marie Bee. Now, it was flourishing, creating jobs in Silvercity and attracting investors who were, piece by piece, abandoning James's faltering conglomerate.
She passed him in the lobby, her heels clicking on marble tiles. Their eyes met for a split second. He hesitated, perhaps recognizing something in her face—those eyes, too familiar, too haunting. But he said nothing. Just a nod. Just silence.
"Strange man," whispered Clara, walking beside her.
Mariana smiled faintly. "Just a ghost from another life."
Back at the apartment, she found a message from George. He had aced his history test, and his drawing of "Super Mariana" saving the city had won first place in class. She laughed, heart full.
The system pinged softly in the background—another herb collected during her walk, another task completed.
"Step by step," she whispered to herself. "We're getting there."
Justice was being served in subtle ways. And she wasn't done yet.