Episode 1

"Where is the audit data for the third quarter? Why isn't the report on my desk yet?"

The voice was hoarse, dry, and painful.

Elena jerked her hand, trying to reach for the pile of papers that should have been there. The last thing she remembered was the PT. Orion meeting room, the anger that exploded because the finance manager was hiding the deficit, the sharp pain in her chest, and the cold coffee that spilled on the keyboard.

Then darkness. Death.

So, why was she wet now?

Elena forced her eyes open. The light from the crystal chandelier pierced her retina. Too bright. Too luxurious. This wasn't her office's fluorescent light.

"Damn, hospital?"

She tried to sit up. Her body felt foreign—heavy and sluggish. There was a splash of water. She looked down. She wasn't in her office chair. She was in a tacky gold bathtub, surrounded by bubbles, with smooth, flawless, varicose vein-free slender legs stretched out stiffly.

"What the hell..."

Her brain, which was used to processing millions of dollars of data, was lagging. Her right hand rose to massage her temples, and that was when she saw it. A thick bandage on her left wrist. Blood was seeping out.

Elena narrowed her eyes. She pulled the hand closer, analyzing it like a defective financial report. She opened the bandage with a stiff but steady movement.

"Slit wound. Horizontal. Shallow. Didn't hit the main artery," she analyzed coldly. The corner of her lips lifted cynically. "Amateur. This isn't about dying. This is just attention-seeking. Still had time to bandage it? Stupid."

Whoever owned this body was clearly an inefficient drama queen. If she intended to commit suicide, why choose such a failed method? This was a classic scenario: cut a little, faint prettily, wait for her husband to come home hysterical.

Husband?

Bam. Foreign memories slammed into her head.

Name: Sora Araminta.

Age: 23 years old.

Status: Kairo Diwantara's trophy wife.

Cause of the incident: Overdose of sleeping pills mixed with alcohol and cutting her wrist because her husband hadn't come home for three days.

"Stupid," Elena hissed. "Bad investment."

Elena—the crisis management consultant most feared in the capital, the 'Female Shark' who could devour corrupt CEOs—was now trapped in the body of a spoiled woman who couldn't even hold a knife properly.

She stood up roughly. Water spilled onto the marble floor. Sora's body trembled, weak. Elena hated weakness. She gripped the edge of the gold bathtub.

"Get up. You're not dead. Unfortunately."

She dragged herself out, ignoring the dizziness from the remaining sleeping pills. In front of the sink mirror, she stopped. The reflection made her fall silent. Beautiful, pale white, with fragile round eyes. A face created to be pampered, but to Elena, it looked pathetic.

"Swollen eyes. Pale skin, lacking nutrition. Zero muscle," Elena commented flatly, patting the cold cheek. "No wonder Kairo is disgusted. Who wants to maintain a depreciating asset like this?"

Take a breath. Exhale. Situation: She died from work, came back to life in Sora's body. Solution: Restructuring. Sora's life needed a total audit.

Elena grabbed a thick bathrobe, tying it tightly as if tightening the budget belt, then stepped out of the bathroom. The master bedroom greeted her with excessive luxury. Pastel canopy, thick carpets, and a super-large wedding photo on the wall.

Elena approached. Sora in the photo smiled blankly, hugging a man's arm.

Kairo Diwantara.

Elena narrowed her eyes. She knew that face. Kairo was a "big whale" in her old business world. The type of authoritarian leader who fired half the directors in his first week in office. Dominant. Control freak. And this idiot Sora was trying to manipulate that kind of man with a cheap suicide threat?

"Garbage marketing strategy," Elena scoffed. "You can't pressure a master negotiator with emotion. Pressure him with data. With losses."

BANG!

The bedroom door opened roughly. A maid in a black and white uniform entered with a horrified face.

"Madam!" she shrieked. "Oh my god, Mrs.Sora! You're awake?!"

The maid ran closer, panicking. "Mr. Kairo... Mr. Kairo is on his way home! The security guard said Mr.'s car is already in the gate! Madam has to go back to bed! Pretend to faint again or cry! If Mr. sees Madam standing like this, he'll be angry because Madam is just playing around!"

Elena stared at the maid without expression. So this was the SOP of this house? Wife is sick, maid tells her to act?

"What's your name?" Elena's voice was low, heavy, without a whine.

The maid blinked in confusion. "M... Mina, Madam. Did Madam forget?"

"Mina," Elena interrupted. "Stop screaming. Your voice is pollution."

Mina's jaw dropped. Sora never spoke like that. Sora would usually hug her while crying hysterically. Elena ignored her, walking past Mina towards the single sofa near the window. She sat down, crossed her legs, leaning back with an aura of absolute power.

"But Madam..." Mina still stammered, "Mr. Kairo will be here soon! We have to call the doctor! Or Madam wants to change into that red nightgown..."

"Silence."

One word. Flat. Intimidating.

Mina immediately shut up. Her hair stood on end. Madam Sora's gaze today was different. Empty, sharp, and looking at Mina as if she were a useless insect.

Elena massaged the bridge of her nose. She needed fuel so her sharp brain could work to strategize a way out of this messed-up life balance sheet.

"Listen, Mina. I don't need a doctor. The wound is just a cat scratch, a band-aid will do. I don't need sexy clothes. And I don't care if your husband—I mean my husband—comes home or not."

Elena stared sharply at the maid.

"Go down to the kitchen. Make me black coffee. Americano. Double shot. No sugar. No creamer. It has to be hot."

Mina gaped. "Bl... black coffee? But Madam hates coffee? Madam usually drinks jasmine tea..."

"People change. My taste is bitter coffee now. As bitter as this life," Elena cut her off sarcastically. She pointed to the bedside table. "And one more thing. Get that laptop. Then search in the dressing table drawer, gather all the passbooks, credit card bills, asset ownership certificates, and monthly household expense reports."

Mina's face was as pale as a ghost. "Fi... financial data? What for, Madam?"

Elena smiled thinly. A predator's smile.

"For an audit," she answered briefly. "Do it quickly. If my coffee isn't here in five minutes, you're fired."

The word "fired" worked like magic. Mina backed away in an orderly fashion and ran out of the room in a fluster, forgetting the fact that her employer had just attempted suicide.

The room fell silent again. Elena sighed deeply, leaning her head back. Her eyes stared out the large window, towards the courtyard of the luxurious house below.

A shiny black sedan had just stopped.

The car door opened. A man got out.

From the upper floor, Elena could see the upright posture. A fitted black suit, wide hurried steps. Not worried steps, but steps full of anger ready to explode.

Kairo Diwantara had come home.

Elena glanced at her bandaged wrist, then looked back at the figure of the man below. There was no fear in her eyes, only cold calculation.

"Alright, Mr. CEO," Elena whispered to the window pane. "Let's see how dominant you are when facing a woman who doesn't need your money."

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