Chapter 8 - PLAN BThey discovered what Plan B meant twenty-three minutes later.
Elena’s phone began ringing.
Her sister.
Her cousin.
Unknown numbers.
Then Damian’s communications director burst into the library.
“We have a problem.”
He turned a tablet around.
A headline filled the screen:
BILLIONAIRE’S SECRET HOUSEKEEPER ROMANCE BLOWS UP ENGAGEMENT
Below it were photographs of Damian, Elena, and Mia.
The article suggested Elena had manipulated Damian.
That she had stolen confidential information.
That she had been using her daughter to gain access to the Cross family.
Elena read the story twice.
Then she handed the tablet back.
“I’m going to be sick.”
Damian’s expression became murderous.
“Who published it?”
“GossipWire. Three other sites copied it.”
Rachel looked at the article.
“This was prepared in advance.”
Marcus connected Owen’s burner phone to a forensic system.
Messages appeared.
Six months of them.
Most were coded.
Blue room ready.
Signature sample acquired.
E keeps seeing too much.
Then:
Child creates access. Useful but dangerous.
Elena felt sick.
“They watched Mia.”
Damian's fist hit the table.
Marcus kept scrolling.
A message from three weeks earlier:
IF D PULLS AWAY, MAKE E THE REASON. PUBLICLY. HE WILL PROTECT THE COMPANY BEFORE HE PROTECTS HER.
Damian stared at the screen.
Vanessa finally spoke.
“That proves nothing.”
Marcus looked at her.
“True.”
He turned the screen.
A photograph appeared.
Owen stood inside the pastry kitchen.
In the reflection of a silver serving tray, Vanessa was visible behind him.
Vanessa went pale.
Her attorney closed his eyes.
Damian looked at her.
“Why?”
Vanessa said nothing.
“You had everything.”
Her eyes filled with something that looked almost like hatred.
“No.”
Her voice trembled.
“I had what you let me have.”
Damian frowned.
Vanessa stared at Elena.
“You never understood.”
Elena said:
“You kidnapped my daughter.”
Vanessa’s face twisted.
“I didn't take your child.”
“But you knew Owen was here.”
Silence.
Damian looked at Vanessa.
For the first time, she looked afraid.
Then the communications director spoke.
“There's more.”
He swallowed.
“Cross Industrial stock is dropping.”
Damian turned.
“The board has called an emergency meeting.”
“What time?”
“Four.”
Damian checked the clock.
Three twelve.
May you like
Plan B wasn't about destroying the engagement.
It was about destroying Elena.
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