For five years, I continued my studies. The connections in my portfolio were few, but reliable.Everyone in my class was in the same position, and the long-awaited season of professional internships was the wall we needed to climb to boost our social standing.
Thus, the final theoretical classes unfolded as oral exams.
"Let's move on to exercise 113. Your company is in crisis due to the competition's lower prices. This has caused dividends to plummet, losses are mounting, and the board of shareholders is demanding your resignation as CEO. The question is: how will you secure support from majority stakeholders and avoid imminent bankruptcy using any means necessary?"Professor Wilkins conducted the exam while writing on the board.
"Kramer?""Extortion. It's the most effective, even if they end up pointing a gun at my head. I just need to gradually erode their influence."
"You get a 7. Woods, your answer?" — Leonidas Kramer had passed.
"I'd hire financial gurus and leak a rumor that a small-cap company is about to be sold or merged, driving its stock price up. Then I'd sell. Once the market finds out it was fake, the crash would burn the buyers."
"Hmm… the illegal practice of pump and dump is punishable for market manipulation. But if they can't trace it back to you... you get an 8."
"Excellent," said Jolene Woods, ever the manipulator.
"Radcliffe, your solution?"
"Restructure with cost reductions, or pursue a joint venture to lower production costs.""Alliance pivot strategy. Interesting. You get an 8."
"Yes!" — Jazmín cheered a bit too loudly.
"Morris?"
"Identify the majority shareholders, approach them before the meeting, and offer them higher positions and more voting power on the board. I wouldn't lower or split my salary to ease the bankruptcy—I'd rather bribe them if I had the means.""You've got a point. A 7. Stern?"
"While those are all valid options, I'd meet privately with the members and offer to act as a transitional figure during the restructuring, to avoid being removed. And since the crisis stems from a changing market, a joint venture could help, but an even better move would be to pivot the business model or launch an innovative product line through self-investment.""Growth strategy... you get an 8." — Worth every hour spent watching how Mom handled her rivals.
"Typical Stern. The goal was to think like a CEO, not like a corner store cashier, hehe.""Shut up, Woods. Envious witch."
The questions continued until the professor pulled out folders for the practical projects.
"To broaden your understanding of the business world, next year's exam will follow a new format. Enjoy your holidays, but when you return, you'll have one semester to build and present your project to the Macroeconomics and Marketing board for your final grade.""So... we're getting homework? During holidays?""Yes, so you can research. When you come back, you'll defend it individually. Each of you will receive a business sector outside your comfort zone to test how well you adapt."
Something smelled off—and I knew it the moment I received a folder labeled Real Estate."Professor, my family's been in the lumber business for two centuries, and you assign me to fashion retail? What am I supposed to do—make a dress out of ebony?""Woods, silence. This was agreed upon during the parents' meeting to help you adapt to different economic scenarios. Consider it a personal challenge—no sabotaging, copying, or leaning on your classmates to pass."
It sounded like a sentence. The written guidelines only confirmed it.
**"I'll do it my way, Mom. Using only my savings as a minimum investment. No excessive help. I'll outperform my classmates.""Interesting."
Vaneesha's determination to keep others out of her affairs was admirable. She sought success without leveraging her family's influence, unlike her peers, who fully relied on theirs.
"I'll go to Trumpet and see what I can find there.""Eww! That snob neighborhood? Try Sunset's favelas. Business is easier there—and I'm not just talking about money."
The people in Trumpet pretended to be wealthy, behaving repulsively toward anyone they deemed beneath them.The rotting elite of society lived there—along with my worst enemies.
The residential area of LeBlanc, where we lived, was top-tier. It was home to multimillionaires who wanted nothing to do with Trumpet—not even to shop there.No one could set foot in LeBlanc without catching the attention of security or the police—unless they were service staff from Sunset with special ID.
That surveillance regime had been enforced ever since one last cockroach got bold—Louis, now deceased.
That's why I didn't want Nisha going to Trumpet. She might cross paths with the very scum we avoided.
"I want to study them to figure out a profitable sales strategy. I need to know why those tacky social climbers buy the way they do." — Her obsession with success was clear.
Every day, this girl resembled me more.
"You can go and infiltrate—but you are absolutely not going alone. I'll assign some shadows. And I won't take no for an answer." — I'd protect her, albeit reluctantly.
"Then Nana Minerva can come with me as my grandmother.""No, you'll go with Wanda. I've got matters to discuss with Madame." — Our housekeeper crushed her hopes.
Holding back laughter, her bodyguard Wanda nodded.It was clear—we preferred an elite assassin to guide her through Trumpet.
Trumpet's commercial district stretched across ten blocks, where storefronts flaunted obscene, over-the-top luxury—designed to lure buyers desperate to belong.
Even though Vaneesha wore ripped designer jeans, a hand-embroidered shirt, and matching sandals, she looked like someone from the slums. But among the cultural elite, this kind of aesthetic rebellion was a status symbol—allowing her to blend in unnoticed.
For two days, she wandered outside the stores. Most were empty—overpriced for the mediocre quality they offered.
Each time she stepped inside, she'd jot down notes before being thrown out. The arrogance and disrespect shown to potential customers were astounding.
She couldn't understand why anyone would shop in Trumpet when Sunset had better and cheaper products.She was stunned by the obvious resale of knock-offs at outrageous markups.
Wandering into the alleyways for answers, she discovered the root of the horror.
Glamorous facades hid collapsing structures behind them.
Peeking through small floor-level vents, she saw the truth—underground sweatshops where women and children were enslaved.Not just one or two—she counted twenty in just five blocks. Helpless rage overtook her.
Later that afternoon, they entered a popular boutique packed with customers. Most were young girls admiring clothes Vaneesha thought were rags.
"Sniff! Nisha, smell that cheap perfume? Definitely trying to cover up mildew. And look at that ceiling...""Not clever—malicious. Hanging blinding lights so people don't notice it's about to cave in... eww!"
Just as she reached for a satchel to test the quality, a shrill voice interrupted.
"Vaneesha!" — said a blonde girl with pigtails, pure disgust on her face.
Ignoring Jenna, Vaneesha turned to leave."Answer Jenna when she talks to you! Don't ignore Jenna!" — The brat grabbed her arm in protest.
"Oh, it's just you, Jenna. Still talking in third person when you're angry, I see." — Vaneesha looked away, stifling a smirk.
"Ha! So it's true. You're still a maid." — Jenna scanned her from head to toe, dripping with smugness.
"…"
"Mom's still furious that you left. But now you want to come back, huh? That's why you followed us?"
"...?"
Vaneesha stayed silent. Talking to donkeys only gets you kicked.
"If you work for Jenna again, we'll give you clean clothes and food. Maybe even let you stay in the attic!"
Her disdain pushed Jenna over the edge.
"What are you doing?!" — Jenna screamed and hurled the bag at her.
"You're coming home with Mom and Jenna... Someone call the clerk! There's a thief in the store!"
She shouted the false accusation—completely unaware of the small being of light dancing over the handbags.