A year had passed.

The name of Madame Astra had become legendary throughout Europe.

No one knew who this brilliant mind was, capable of accurately predicting market movements. The most influential investors sought her out, financial magazines spoke of her with fascination, and her voice—serene, firm, captivating—had become synonymous with power.

But behind that voice, in an attic overlooking Lake Geneva , was Elena .

She was still in her wheelchair, but her gaze was different: confident, deep, free.

Her hands moved with precision across the keyboard. She had transformed pain into discipline, loneliness into determination, and loss into strength.

One cold winter night, her digital assistant flickered on the screen:

“Urgent request for consulting services. Client: Lorenzo De Valli.”

Elena remained motionless.

That name was an echo of the past, a ghost that returned when least expected.

He opened the attached file:

Red numbers. Debts. Empty accounts.

And finally, a brief, almost desperate message:

“Madame Astra, you are my last hope. If you help me, I will be forever in your debt.”

Elena took a deep breath.

And he wrote slowly:

“I accept the meeting. Tomorrow, 10:00. Confidential videoconference.”

The next morning, the screen lit up.

Lorenzo appeared before her: thin, aged, with dull eyes.

Nothing remained of the arrogant man who had once scorned her.

“Thank you for seeing me, Madame Astra,” he said wearily. “I’ve heard that you save companies even when all hope seems lost.”

Elena’s voice, distorted by the modulator, sounded cold and impersonal:

— I don’t save companies, Mr. De Valli. I teach people to see what they didn’t want to see.

Lorenzo lowered his head.

— I understand… I’ve lost everything. The company, my reputation… and the woman I loved most. I was an idiot.

Elena watched him in silence.

“If I could go back,” he murmured, “I would do anything to correct my mistakes.”

Her voice, still disguised, became softer:

—And what would you do if that woman gave you a second chance?

Lorenzo smiled sadly.

— I don’t deserve her. But I would show her that I’m not the same anymore.

Then Elena turned off the voice modulator.

The silence was absolute.

—Then prove it, Lorenzo— she said, in her royal voice.

He raised his head.

Her face froze.

— …Elena… No… it can’t be…

— Yes — she replied calmly —. The “invalid”, the “burden”, the woman you threw out of your life… that’s me.

Lorenzo covered his face with his hands.

— Forgive me… please… every day I regret what I said to you.

Elena sighed.

— I don’t want revenge, Lorenzo. I want the truth. And the truth… has already been revealed.

He paused.

— I’ll send you a financial plan. It will help you get your company back on its feet. Not because you deserve it… but because I don’t need to see you fail anymore.

Her lips curved into a slight smile.

— I’ve learned to walk again. Not with my legs… but with the strength I found the day you called me useless.

Before I could answer, the screen went black.

Months later, Lorenzo managed to get his company off the ground. In every interview, at every conference, he repeated the same phrase:

“Madame Astra taught me that second chances aren’t asked for… they’re built.”

And in her attic in Geneva, Elena watched the snow fall, with a calm expression.

There was no anger. Only peace.

Because the real victory wasn’t seeing him kneeling…

But having learned to fly — even without wings. 🕊️