"Pray he does not decide to demand a public apology. Not just from you," her eyes swept across them, one by one, "but from the entire industry that was so eager to believe a filthy rumor."
The air felt heavier now—but not for her.
She straightened her blazer.
"Meeting adjourned."
And this time, no one dared to argue.
As she stepped out of the meeting room, heels clicking against the marble floor, Soren hurried after her, holding out a phone.
"It's Madam Beckett," he said quietly. "She wants to speak with you."
Starla's brows lifted in mild surprise. She accepted the phone without hesitation, still buoyed by relief from the news.
"Anna?" she greeted warmly. "Is everything alright? You saw the broadcast, didn't you?"
Her voice carried lightness—almost excitement.
On the other end, however, the silence stretched a second longer than it should have.
"Yes," Madam Beckett replied at last.
Her tone was even. Controlled. But there was no mistaking the weight beneath it.
