The hearing room wasn’t grand. No polished wood or soaring ceilings. Just gray carpet, mismatched chairs, and the quiet hum of lives being decided.

Aria sat at the center table, alone but not alone—Dominic in the front row, Sloane just behind him, and Lila pacing outside with a coffee she wouldn’t drink.

Across the aisle: three members of the State Board of Professional Licensing. Serious. Detached. Holding Hale’s affidavit like a grenade with the pin already pulled.

The chairwoman cleared her throat. “Ms. Vale, we’ve received an emergency motion to review your standing license based on accusations of fraudulent launch documents tied to your original firm registration.”

Aria’s voice was steady. “I’m aware of the filing.”

“The evidence submitted shows a wire transfer in your legal name dated prior to the formal creation of Vale Interiors, suggesting false declaration of sole ownership during your corporate registration.”

“That’s correct,” Aria said. “And it’s also incomplete.”

She reached into her folder and pulled out the original, unedited contract—the one with Hale’s signature, predating the wire.

She passed it forward. “This document proves the transaction in question was presented to me under false terms. At the time of my filing, the transfer had not cleared. Furthermore, the lender—Marcus Hale—used an undisclosed shell company to conceal predatory clauses.”

The board member on the right glanced up. “Do you have proof of that?”

“I do,” she said.

Sloane stood and handed the board an encrypted drive. “Contains financial records, internal emails, and shell corp registries confirming Hale’s attempt to retroactively manipulate the equity stake.”

Aria continued. “I have also submitted a sworn statement from a third-party legal advisor who was employed by Mr. Hale’s trust at the time—Vivian Hale—confirming the signature on the equity clause was added after the document was initially filed.”

A pause.

The board exchanged looks.

The chairwoman leaned forward. “You’re saying you were set up.”

“I’m saying,” Aria replied, “that Marcus Hale has weaponized the legal system to punish me for rejecting his influence. And now, I’m asking this board not to be his final weapon.”

Silence stretched.

Then a quiet nod from the center judge.

“We’ll deliberate. You’ll be notified within 24 hours.”

Outside, Dominic stood as she stepped through the doors.

“That was the boldest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said.

She didn’t smile. Not yet.

“If they rule against me, I lose my license.”

“If they rule for you,” he said, “Hale loses his freedom.”

She looked at him—really looked.

“For the first time,” she said, “I’m not afraid of losing.”

“Because you won’t?”

“No,” she said. “Because I know who I am—with or without all of this.”

And for once, Dominic didn’t try to fix it.

He just took her hand.