Chapter 2: Crash Course and Hidden Scars

The mahogany doors of her father's office felt less like portals to power and more like shackles on Anya's soul. Gone were the days of designer lunches and champagne brunches. Her days now began with spreadsheets and boardroom battles, a world as foreign as Mars. Yet, nestled amongst the dusty financial reports, a tiny seed of purpose sprouted. It didn't bloom overnight, but it gnawed at the hardened shell of her resentment.

The crash course in corporate survival was brutal. Each investor meeting felt like a firing squad, their skepticism a hail of bullets she hadn't trained to dodge. Memories of past indiscretions, leaked gossip columns, and whispered rumors fueled the investors' icy stares. Their doubts were a cruel mirror reflecting Anya's own, the weight of her past a leaden chain on her aspirations.

Amidst the wreckage, Ethan became her lighthouse in the storm. His sharp mind unraveled financial knots, his calm demeanor soothed her anxiety. He saw through the facade of rebellion, a flicker of the tigress hidden beneath the glitter, and treated her not as a spoiled socialite, but as a peer, a learner. He, too, bore the scars of hardship, his past etched in the quiet determination in his eyes. The unspoken bond grew, an understanding forged in the fires of shared battles.

But redemption wasn't a spectator sport. Anya had to dive headfirst into the trenches, her designer heels swapped for sensible flats. She spent nights pouring over blueprints, her manicured nails stained with ink and grime. Sleep became a luxury, replaced by adrenaline-fueled nights, fueled by coffee and a desperate urge to prove herself, not just to the investors, but to her father, and most importantly, to herself.

One day, amidst the clutter of her makeshift office, Anya stumbled upon a dusty box. Inside, a treasure trove of her mother's memories: faded photographs, handwritten letters, and a half-finished painting of a tiger leaping through a fiery hoop. In her mother's eyes, she saw a defiance that mirrored her own, a yearning for something beyond societal expectations. The tigress, it seemed, ran in their blood, not as a symbol of recklessness, but of rebellion with a cause.

That night, staring at the unfinished painting, Anya made a vow. She wouldn't be consumed by the flames of her past. She would be the tigress who tamed the fire, who channeled her defiance into a roaring engine of change. As dawn broke, bathing the city in an orange glow, Anya knew this was just the beginning. The fight for Montgomery Tech, for redemption, for her own soul, had truly begun.