TEXT ON SCREEN: One Year Later
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EXT. HIGH-RISE OFFICE BUILDING – DAY
WALLENSTEIN ENTERPRISES glinted like a crown in the sunlight — steel, glass, and legacy fused into one name.
Anissa stepped from a matte black SUV, her heels clicking like the ticking of a clock about to strike.
In her arms: her son. Big brown eyes, soft curls, cheeks flushed with sleep. He gripped her lapel in one tiny fist.
ANISSA (V.O.) They called me a scandal.
A victim. A mistake.
But I was never anyone's tragedy.
I was the author of my own resurrection.
Cameras flashed. Questions flew.
REPORTER 1
"Anissa! Who's watching the baby while you run an empire?"
She paused. Smiled slightly.
ANISSA
"I am."
A ripple of laughter and admiration.
She adjusted the strap on her handbag and stepped into the lobby. The glass doors closed behind her like the gates to a new world.
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INT. EXECUTIVE OFFICE – DAY
The office was sleek, modern, and powerful — floor-to-ceiling windows, a minimalist desk, and a wall of framed headlines: Justice Served, From Scandal to CEO, The Rise of Wallenstein.
Tanya lounged on the velvet couch, swirling wine in a crystal glass.
TANYA
"Look at you. From Derulo's shadow to the spotlight."
Anissa set her son down gently on the plush rug. He crawled toward a toy cube with soft, determined babble.
ANISSA
"He taught me how to fight. I taught myself how to win."
Tanya raised a brow.
TANYA
"You scared of what's next?"
Anissa watched her son lift the toy triumphantly, clapping for himself. Her chest rose with something deeper than pride. Purpose.
ANISSA
"No. I write what's next."
They clinked glasses — red wine for Tanya, sparkling cider for Anissa.
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EXT. CEMETERY – DAY
A gentle wind played through the trees.
Anissa knelt by her mother's grave, her son in a carrier strapped to her chest.
She placed a fresh bouquet — lilies and forget-me-nots — and a small silver pendant on the headstone.
CARD: We made it, Mama.
ANISSA (V.O.)
You didn't get to see this. But I carried you with me through every battle.
The baby stirred. She kissed his head.
ANISSA (softly)
"She would've loved you."
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INT. PRIVATE DINING ROOM – NIGHT
Candlelight flickered across a quiet table.
Anissa sat alone — no cameras, no guards, no expectations. Just stillness.
A handwritten list lay beside her plate: Scholarships. Safehouses. Schools.
Her empire was growing — not just in power, but in purpose.
Her phone buzzed.
UNKNOWN NUMBER:
"Tick tock."
She stared at it for a long moment. Then smiled.
ANISSA
"Your clock's outta time."
She powered off the phone. Tossed it into a drawer. Closed it.
Some battles were over. Others hadn't even started.
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TEXT ON SCREEN: FIVE MONTHS LATER
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INT. MAGAZINE OFFICE – DAY
Pages flipped rapidly.
CLOSE-UP ON COVER:
Campus Girl to CEO: The Anissa Wallenstein Rise
Photos flashed: – Anissa at a podium.
– Her new company's logo.
– A candid shot of her holding her son, smiling.
ANISSA (V.O.)
They said I was broken.
Maybe I was.
But broken girls don't stay broken forever.
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THE END… OR THE BEGINNING.