Lizetta pressed her lips together in a small, sly smile.

"Well, well-didn't expect a girl like you to have such strong opinions. I like that," she said, winking at Mia. The simple gesture seemed to light up the whole room.

Mia had always been a sucker for a beautiful face, and Lizetta's looks were in a league of their own. She could easily spend the whole day just sneaking glances at Lizetta-and never get bored. Honestly, how could any man look at a woman like her and still find reasons to be upset? He'd have to be blind.

What kind of fool would walk away from someone that stunning, only to chase after a woman with a limp? That Mr. Dashiell was supposed to be some big-shot investor —there's no way he'd do something so idiotic.

"Liz, seriously, did you dump Mr. Dashiell?” Mia asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

When Lizetta didn't immediately deny it, Mia felt even more convinced that her hunch was right.

Lizetta tapped Mia's forehead, a mock scold in her voice. "No, stop it. Don't let your imagination run wild. Our relationship just fell apart, that's all. No one dumped anyone. And for the record, Stella's never had any work done. Now, did you finish the list of brand ambassadors for Starlight Group's main labels over the past ten years like I asked?"

Only then did Mia manage to put a leash on her burning curiosity. She turned to her desk, found the neatly compiled file, and handed it over to Lizetta. But she couldn't help adding, "That Ms. West definitely had surgery. She's not all-natural, not even close. She can't hold a candle to you, Liz."

Lizetta just looked at her, half amused, half dismissive. She figured Mia was just being friendly, maybe trying to cheer her up. "No, she really hasn't had anything done. Besides, there's no need to compare myself to her.”

"You're right, you shouldn't. Just be yourself. But I'm telling you, she's had something done. It's subtle, almost undetectable, but my mom's aplastic surgeon-I've seen before-and-afters my whole life. I can't tell exactly what she changed, but she's definitely gone under the knife," Mia insisted, her eyes wide with certainty. "Trust me."

People said Lizetta was too

beautiful, almost unreal. On her first day at the company, Snow and the others had whispered that she must have had surgery, but Mia could spot the difference right away. Lizetta's beauty was effortless, the kind you couldn't fake-lashes thick and curled without a hint of extensions, features so harmonious that it made envy pointless.

Ms. West, on the other hand, was pretty enough, but there was something artificial about her face—something off in the way her features flowed together. Mia wished the videos circulating online had better lighting and less shaky camera work; maybe then she could spot exactly what had been altered.

Lost in these thoughts, Mia made her way back to her workstation, not noticing the troubled look that flickered over Lizetta's face.

Lizetta frowned slightly. She hadn't known Mia long, but the girl was sharp and not the type to talk nonsense. If Mia suspected Stella had had work done, maybe there was something to it after all.

But as far as Lizetta knew, Stella had been stuck in a tiny, remote village for years— it would've been impossible for her to get cosmetic surgery out there. Could she have done something after coming back?

Lizetta thought back. When Stella had first returned, she'd been thin, pale, and frail, clearly in rough shape. Now she looked vibrant, took care with her makeup, and carried herself differently. Comparing then and now, Lizetta honestly couldn't tell if Stella had just blossomed after

coming to Zion City-or if she d

secretly had some work done to enhance her looks.

Just then, Laura appeared, calling Lizetta into the office for a project update.

Lizetta had to shelve her suspicions for now, getting up and heading for the manager's office.

Today, though, Laura wasn't in a combative mood. She listened intently to Lizetta's ideas and preparations for the company's annual gala. Only after going over everything did Laura's confident façade slip, a hint of nervousness showing on her face.