Chapter 13: Mother of Monsters
The next name on Mia’s list wasn’t whispered like the others.
It was Miss Solene Arriaga—the queenmaker.
Former beauty queen. Now a studio executive.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmnO7mZ4ciE
Groomer of “the next big thing.”8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUATcfgzYBk
She was elegant. Charismatic. Sharp.
And absolutely lethal.
Mia once called her "Tita Sol."8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlym9TNMJ9v
Back when she was just 19.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEW6iPfGeEU
Back when she thought she was being mentored… not molded.
“You have a beautiful body,” Solene had once said.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡw6atdRSrBi
“Don’t waste it on shame. Weaponize it.”
And so Mia did.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡM9VnpB4UkU
But what Solene forgot to teach her—was what happens when a weapon turns back on the hand that forged it.
Clark read the file in silence.
“Are you sure about this one?”
“She’s the worst,” Mia said without blinking.
Solene didn’t film the abuse.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBtQJfQmQMn
She orchestrated it.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡm5qShl8iPc
She made girls believe it was part of the process.
Like poison in a cocktail—sweet going down, deadly too late.
Mia booked a private consultation under a fake name.
She knew Solene would agree.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrg7kwIhB8f
New faces always thrilled her.
They met in a high-rise office—walls full of portraits: actresses in gowns, smiles too wide, eyes too quiet.
Mia sat across from her. Hair up. Makeup soft. A look she hadn’t worn in years.
Solene didn’t recognize her.
“Tell me your story,” she purred.
Mia stared.
Then slowly removed her fake lashes.
Unpinned her hair.
Wiped away the foundation.
And let her real face show.
The color drained from Solene’s face.
“M-Mia?”
“You don’t get to call me that anymore.”
Solene tried to compose herself.
“You’ve done well, clearly. What’s this about—revenge? Sweetheart, we all play the game. You just learned faster.”
Mia dropped a voice recorder on the desk.
“Speak. Or the next ‘face’ you launch will be yours—in handcuffs.”
Solene laughed.
Low. Cold.
“I built this place. You think I’m afraid of some camera girl with trauma?”
Mia leaned in.
“No. But you should be afraid of the girls you thought you buried.”
She pressed play on the recorder.
A voice came on.
Young. Shaky. Familiar.
“Tita Sol said if I didn’t sleep with the director, I’d lose my role. She said all the best ones do it.”
Solene paled.
“That’s not—”
“She’s dead now,” Mia cut in. “Overdose. Studio called it ‘mental instability.’ But I know the truth.”
Solene stood. “Get out.”
But Mia didn’t move.
“You have one week. Public confession. Step down. Donate everything you’ve earned to a survivor fund. Or I turn the entire vault loose.”
“You think people will care?” Solene snapped. “The audience loves a scandal. But they’ll forget you in a week.”
Mia smiled.
“That’s the thing, Sol. I’m not selling the scandal. I’m selling you.”
Clark waited in the car.
Mia slid in beside him, silent.
“Well?” he asked.
“She’ll fold.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
Mia looked out the window.
Then whispered,
“Then I become the monster she taught me to be.”
That night, Mia opened her laptop.
One folder.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBpH3uJu7Es
Dozens of files.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡu8STdEZApe
Names. Faces. Screams.
She hovered over Solene’s.
But didn’t press send.
Not yet.
Because power wasn’t in the release.
Power was in the wait.
And Solene would sweat every second.
Because Mia wasn’t done.
And there was still one name left.
One final devil.
The one she couldn’t look at directly.
Because he was the beginning.
And possibly—8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIVess03PUp
the end.
