Chapter 8 - PLAN B
They found out what Plan B meant twenty-three minutes later.
Elena’s phone began ringing without stopping.
Her sister. Her cousin. A number she didn’t know. Then another.
Damian’s communications director ran into the library holding a tablet.
“We have a problem.”
On the screen was a celebrity-news headline: BILLIONAIRE’S SECRET HOUSEKEEPER ROMANCE BLOWS UP ENGAGEMENT. It used innocent photos of Damian, Elena, and Mia to claim Elena had manipulated him and stolen confidential information.
Elena read the paragraph twice.
Then she handed the tablet back.
“I’m going to be sick.”
Damian’s face turned murderous. “Who published it?”
“GossipWire. Then three others copied it.”
Rachel, the attorney, swore under her breath. “This was prepared in advance. Too many photos. Too much copy.”
Marcus connected Owen’s burner to a forensic laptop.
The message thread with V went back six months.
Most of it was coded.
Blue room ready.
Signature sample acquired.
E keeps seeing too much.
Child creates access. Useful but dangerous.
Elena felt something twist inside her.
“They watched Mia.”
Damian put a hand on the table so hard his knuckles whitened.
Marcus continued scrolling.
A message from three weeks earlier read:
IF D PULLS AWAY, MAKE E THE REASON. PUBLICLY. HE WILL PROTECT THE COMPANY BEFORE HE PROTECTS HER.
Damian stared at it.
Vanessa, sitting across the room beside her attorney, finally spoke.
“That proves nothing. Anybody can save a contact as V.”
Marcus looked up. “True.”
She smiled.
“Then stop looking at me like that.”
“But this helps.” He turned the screen.
The burner contained a photograph Owen had sent to V that morning. In the reflection of a silver serving tray behind the phone, Vanessa was visible standing beside him in the pastry kitchen.
Her attorney closed his eyes.
Vanessa stood abruptly. “I’m done.”
Rachel said, “You may want to listen to your lawyer before—”
“I said I’m done!”
For the first time, her voice cracked.
Damian stepped toward her. “Why?”
Vanessa stared at him.
“You had everything already,” he said. “Money. Access. A wedding you wanted. Why steal from me?”
Her expression changed into something tired and vicious.
“Because men like you never notice what things cost.”
“Four-point-eight million?”
“No. Respect.”
Elena almost laughed. “You kidnapped my daughter and you’re talking about respect?”
Vanessa’s eyes cut toward her. “I didn’t take your child.”
“But you knew Owen was here.”
Silence.
Damian’s communications director interrupted. “There’s more.”
He looked pale.
“Cross Industrial stock is dropping. The board has called an emergency meeting for four o’clock.”
Damian checked the time.
Three twelve.
The director hesitated.
“And someone sent the board copies of the forged transfers—with Elena’s employee ID attached to the approvals.”
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Plan B wasn’t meant to make Elena look like Damian’s mistress.
It was meant to make her look like his thief.
