The media swarmed outside the Veyra Foundation headquarters like a hive disturbed. Reporters jostled for space, cameras flashed like lightning, and murmurs rippled with anticipation. They had all come to witness the woman everyone called the disgraced heiress.

Inside, Aurora stood before the mirror in the private lounge, smoothing the lapel of her ivory suit. She wasn’t wearing jewelry, no glittering diamonds or pearls only a silver watch that had once belonged to her mother.

“Are you ...