When Celina walked back into the office, still reeling from the humiliation of the warning, ready to resume work, she was caught off guard by a presence she neither expected nor wanted.

“Hello, darling,” Isabela said, her lips curling into a venomous smile as she sat in Celina’s chair like she owned the place.

Celina held her posture, her gaze steady, her heart racing in her chest—but her face betrayed nothing.

“Close the door, please,” Isabela ordered, crossing her legs with rehearsed elegance.

Without looking away, Celina calmly closed the door and remained standing, her composure intact.

“What exactly do you want?” she asked, her tone cold.

“Want? Oh no, sweetheart,” Isabela let out a mocking laugh. “In just a few days, as expected, I’ll be Mrs. Miller.”

Celina’s stomach twisted, but she didn’t let it show. She swallowed hard.

“What did you just say?” she whispered, barely believing her ears.

Isabela rose with the poise of a crowned queen, strutting until she stopped right in front