The storm that brewed in whispers finally broke.
By dawn, a cascade of scandalous headlines flooded the web:
Scentra's Signature Formula Stolen?"
Explosive Claims of Dangerous Chemicals in Scentra Products!
Anonymous Sources Suggest Perfumer is a Fraud!
The damage was instantaneous. Orders froze. Customers panicked. And the media fed on the frenzy like vultures.
In the sleek boardroom at Scentra's headquarters, tension pulsed through the air.
Mae sat at the head of the long obsidian table, her face pale but composed. Around her, high-level management and department heads unleashed their fury.
"This kind of damage could ruin us!"
"Why wasn't the PR team prepared?!"
"We told you that expanding too fast would attract enemies!"
Mae sat still, letting the voices rise like a tide.
That was, until the double doors burst open.
Elara stepped in, all calm poise and silent fire. She wore simple black slacks and a pale grey blouse, but her presence pulled every eye.
"I think that's enough," she said, her voice cool and unwavering.
The room fell silent.
"Miss Elara," one executive started, "this meeting concerns high-level decisions—"
"And Scentra is a wholly owned private company," Elara cut him off smoothly. "With my mother as its full owner. You were brought in as advisors, not rulers."
Her gaze swept over them, blade-sharp. "You have no authority to scold her. And no right to threaten her leadership."
One of them stood to protest, but Mae raised her hand. "Enough. You heard her."
Murmuring and glares followed, but one by one, they backed down. Within minutes, the room emptied, leaving Mae and Elara alone.
Mae exhaled. "Elara…"
"I'll take care of the news." Her tone brooked no argument. "Focus on your health and managing the stores. I've got this."
---
Later that evening, in a private lounge at a luxury hotel, the foreign brand representative who had tried to acquire Scentra earlier returned.
He was smirking.
"Well, Miss Mae, seems the tides have turned. Perhaps now you're more... flexible?"
He slid over a new acquisition offer—barely a fraction of their last one.
Mae didn't flinch. "No."
"No?" His voice sharpened. "Even with your company under siege?"
Mae stood. "Leave."
The man narrowed his eyes but said nothing more. With a scowl, he stormed out of the lounge.
Outside, Elara sat in a dark corner, laptop in hand and phone to her ear.
"Uncle," she said as soon as the call connected, "they hit hard."
His voice was calm. "Then we hit harder."
A pause. "I'll take care of it."
---
The very next morning, across all gaming platforms, a notification pinged.
**[Breaking Developer Update: The Truth About Scentra Scandal]**
An immersive video played on every user's homepage.
It was edited like a short film: a clean, calm narrator walked viewers through every lie. The false claims. The tampered reports. The hidden agenda behind the beauty conglomerate's smear campaign.
Verified receipts, chemical safety certifications, and direct footage of product testing flooded the screen.
By the end of the clip, viewers were left stunned—and enraged.
#SupportScentra began trending across gaming, fashion, and lifestyle forums within an hour.
Influencers who had panicked backpedaled. Customers re-ordered in droves. The storm had not only calmed—it had reversed.
---
Elara stood at her window, arms crossed.
She had traced every IP used in the smear campaign.
They led to one place: A powerful conglomerate known for dominating the beauty and luxury sectors. They had a reputation for bullying smaller companies into submission, especially when their acquisitions were denied.
"Beauty Wars, is it?" she murmured.
She picked up her phone and made a call.
"Mom, call a meeting with Legal. We're going to war."
She hung up and turned to her laptop.
Documents began forming. Plans, strategies, and retaliatory marketing campaigns. A business war wasn't fought with swords—it was fought with innovation, exposure, and unrelenting precision.
Elara's eyes glowed with cold determination.
"You chose the wrong target."
The storm was far from over.
This was only the beginning.