---
Mia took Mike home, where the family's private doctor was already waiting. After the treatment ended and she'd seen the doctor out, she retreated into her room, the door clicking shut behind her.
She poured herself a glass of deep red wine and sank into the velvet armchair near the window. Her phone buzzed. A quick glance at her account made her lips twitch—half amused, half disappointed.
"Fifty million yuan," she muttered, swirling the wine. "Not even enough to bury the skeletons I plan to dig up." she thought as she sip her wine she off her phone and got up after finishing the wine she went to her room.
The next morning, the house was quiet as Mia descended the stairs. She was dressed in a white, backless maxi gown that flowed like water around her ankles. Every step was soft elegance, her white heels clicking against the marble floor like whispers of war.
Mike, still groggy and in his pajamas, blinked at the vision of her. "Where are you going?"
"To work." Her voice was calm, low. "Your mother has a few things to clear off her mind."
She paused at the table and pointed toward the dining area. "I had breakfast delivered. Go eat. And—ah, almost forgot."
She reached into her designer bag and pulled out a gift-wrapped box. "Here."
Mike eyed it suspiciously, tearing it open. He blinked at the hardcover inside and pulled it out like it might explode.
"A book?" he scoffed. "You're giving me a book? Why not just throw in a log of wood too, so I know it's really garbage. What am I supposed to do with this?"
Mia turned her head slowly and gave him a cold, almost pitying stare. "Play games with it why don't you Watch films with it why at it. Are you... slow? What else do you do with a book if not read "
Mike bristled. "I'm not reading it!"
He hurled the book aside and stood up—but Mia was faster. She grabbed him by the collar with one hand, sat him down in the chair with the other, and gave him a sharp smack on the rear.
"You'll read it," she said, each word like ice. "And if you don't, when I return... no games. No TV. Nothing."
She leaned down, their eyes level. "Try me, if you dare."
Then she walked out, the door shutting behind her with a soft finality.
---
Here's the fully rewritten and dramatically enhanced version of the scene you requested, with vivid descriptions, proper pacing, and strong character tone for Mia. I've also given the dance company a name:
---
Chapter Title: The Queen Doesn't Dance on Command
Scene: The Haze Bloom Dance Company – Morning
The Haze Bloom Dance Company was known for its artistic excellence and strict discipline. Housed inside a sleek glass building in the heart of the city's elite district, the company echoed prestige. The lobby shimmered with marble floors and chandeliers shaped like frozen flames, while the sound of ballet shoes against polished wood drifted from nearby studios. Behind the glamorous façade, however, tension and politics reigned.
Mia stepped inside, dressed in her signature icy elegance—her heels clicking sharply as the receptionist froze mid-greeting. Whispers followed her, dancers parting like the Red Sea. She didn't stop until she reached the manager's office on the top floor.
She pushed the door open without knocking.
Behind the desk sat a sharp-featured woman in her forties, dressed in a navy pantsuit too tight for her frame, tapping her nails irritably against a stack of files. Her eyes narrowed when she saw Mia.
"Well, well," the manager sneered. "It seems the queen finally decided to bless us with her presence. For a second, I almost thought you were the boss. Maria—" she spat the name like venom, "—you were the one who begged for this position, or did you forget? You asked Marvin for help, and now you're not even showing up for work. You have the connection, yes, but absolutely no common sense."
Mia said nothing. Her silence only made the woman press harder.
"I'm tired of cleaning up your mess. I've already signed you up for the international dance competition. You will attend. It'll get your name out there and boost this company's reputation."
"I'm not joining the competition," Mia replied coolly, her voice like silk over steel. "I came to resign."
The manager stood up, her chair screeching behind her. "Quit?" she barked. "Do you think this is your family's backyard, where you can do whatever you want? Do you know the financial damage this would cause? The backlash? Even if you spread your legs for weeks, you wouldn't be able to afford it."
Silence fell like a blade.
Mia let out a soft, dangerous chuckle. She stepped forward slowly, her heels echoing like a countdown.
"I think you're confusing your life with mine," she said, voice low and mocking. "Yes, this is like my backyard. And you? You're the cleaner. I do have connections—ones that could ruin you in hours you know that you have witness that so why are you testing my patience."
The manager stiffened, but Mia leaned in, brushed a few strands of the woman's stiffly styled hair into place... and then yanked her head back by the roots.
"I never agreed to that competition," Mia whispered near her ear. "You didn't ask for my consent. So whatever backlash you're bracing for, it's yours to carry."
She released the woman with a shove, who stumbled back into her chair, wide-eyed.
"And just because your husband cheated and left you doesn't mean you should take your bitterness out on me. You want another heartbreak?" Mia's eyes darkened. "Test me again. I dare you."
She turned, smoothing her outfit with a lazy grace, and walked toward the door.
"I came here to resign peacefully," she said, throwing one last glance over her shoulder. "But you just had to piss me off."
She paused at the threshold, gave a mocking bow, and added sweetly, "Start the paperwork. And don't forget the payment details. I don't waste time."
Then she left ignoring the woman stunned reaction.
The door clicked shut behind her.
And the office was left in stunned silence.
---
After leaving the manager's office, Mia stepped into the elevator, the tension she left behind still crackling in the air. She pressed the ground floor button and leaned against the mirrored wall, sipping the last of her cool detachment.
As the elevator descended, a different storm was brewing in the lobby.
Oliver entered the Haze Bloom Dance Company beside Daisy. Both were dressed simply, but their presence radiated quiet confidence. The glint of recognition and hatred sparked instantly across the room.
A woman caked in thick, uneven makeup strutted toward them with four other dancers flanking her like a discount girl group.
"What are you doing here?" the leader sneered, arms folded. "Do you think this is your house, Oliver? Coming and going whenever you please?"
Oliver blinked lazily. "Do I even know you?"
That sent a wave of gasps through the little entourage.
"Oh, acting high and mighty now, huh?" the thick-makeup woman snapped. "You used to be the dance group leader. Don't pretend you forgot me—the vice-leader. Then you quit because you thought you snagged some rich man, right? And now what? He tossed you away?"
"I heard she became his mistress," a woman in green chimed in with a laugh. "But clearly, the man dumped her."
Daisy's eyes narrowed. "Your mouths seem to be overflowing with garbage. Is your tongue made of trash, or is that your specialty? What mistress? What rich man? Did you ever see her with one? Slander is still a crime, by the way. Wonder what your fans will think when you're arrested?"
"You dare talk to me like that?!" the lead woman shrieked. "You're just her lackey!"
"And yet, even a so-called lackey like me still has more decency than a group of barking strays," Daisy shot back. "Also—fun fact—I'm a lawyer at Obsidian & Rayne Associates. I'm sure even you have heard of us. It's not a firm you want to offend."
That silenced them for a second.
Then the one in pink scoffed, "What, so you're trying to scare us now? We're just telling the truth. Oliver was kicked out and then became some rich guy's toy."
Oliver raised a brow. "Hmm. First, I quit. Then, I was kicked out. Which one is it? Make up your minds—before your brain cells start bumping into each other and combust."
"Whatever," the thick-makeup woman snapped. "Point is, you're out. Good riddance. Maria was hired in your place—and she's better in every way. More talented, more beautiful, and—most importantly—Marvin's wife."
Oliver and Daisy exchanged a look. Then burst out laughing.
"Wife of Marvin?" Oliver gasped through her laughter. "Now I see why a group of dogs was barking at me. You're Maria's guard dogs. Tell me, does she feed you well? Or do you just chew on her scraps?"
The woman's face flushed red with rage. She raised her hand to slap Oliver—but Daisy caught her wrist mid-air.
"Touch her," Daisy warned, "and I'll make sure your next paycheck goes straight into paying court fees."
She twisted the woman's wrist slightly until she winced.
"And while we're at it," Daisy added, "who told you Maria is Marvin's wife?"
The elevator chimed behind them.
Mia stepped out.
And the atmosphere shifted.
Daisy smirked. "Oh, look. The person in question is right here. Why don't we ask her?"
The group turned toward Mia like a swarm of ants sensing sugar.
Mia's eyes flicked toward the chaos—and landed directly on Oliver.
The FL.
Her eye twitched.
From the space in her mind, Dumpling muttered lazily, "The FL is here, host. Time to look fabulous—or destroy lives. I'm good with either."
---