~010
The First Strike
---
Bella barely slept.
The anonymous photo message repeated in her mind like a broken film reel—her and Xavier walking along the Seine, caught mid-conversation, mid-emotion, mid-something unspoken. The picture was grainy but unmistakable.
And it had only one purpose: a threat.
She didn't reply.
Didn't call anyone.
Instead, she backed up her files, changed her phone passcode, and slept with the chain on her door.
By morning, she wasn't just angry—she was terrified.
Whoever sent that message wasn't guessing. They knew. They were watching.
---
At LV Groups, the air felt… different.
People turned their heads slightly longer. Conversations dropped to a hush when she passed. A few smiles felt a little too tight, a little too practiced.
Bella walked into the open design floor with her spine straight and her jaw locked. She wouldn't show fear. Not here.
She set down her tablet and opened her laptop, scanning her emails—
And then she saw it.
Subject: RE: Conflicts of Interest and Alleged Favoritism – Bella Bluefield
Her heart dropped.
It was an internal thread.
From HR.
Her name was in bold. Her photo was attached to the file.
Someone had reported her.
---
She didn't even have time to finish reading before her desk phone buzzed.
"Bella?" It was Clara's voice, clipped. "Come to the 20th floor. Now."
---
Xavier's office felt colder than usual when she entered.
Clara was already seated in one of the guest chairs, tablet in hand. Across from her sat Mr. DuPont, the head of HR. He looked serious, but not hostile.
Xavier stood near the window, arms crossed, his entire body tense.
Bella closed the door gently behind her, willing her pulse to slow.
"Please sit," DuPont said.
She obeyed.
"This is not a formal inquiry," he began. "But we've received an anonymous report alleging unprofessional behavior and unethical advancement related to your… working relationship with Mr. Louis."
Bella's stomach twisted.
"I see," she said evenly.
"They claim you've received preferential treatment in campaign selections, were granted access to sensitive meetings ahead of your peers, and—" he cleared his throat, "—suggest a personal relationship may have influenced these decisions."
Bella's hands clenched in her lap.
"That's not true," she said.
"She earned everything she's been given," Clara interjected, voice firm. "And I approved every assignment she's worked on. Including the presentation."
DuPont nodded, as if expecting this. "Nonetheless, we're required to investigate when accusations are made."
Xavier finally spoke.
"This is an act of sabotage," he said, voice low but lethal. "And we all know it."
Clara didn't argue.
Bella swallowed. "What happens now?"
"Until the review is complete," DuPont said, "you'll be reassigned away from Mr. Louis's direct projects. You'll report to Clara only. Effective immediately."
Bella blinked. "I'm being punished for a lie?"
"No," DuPont said carefully. "We're protecting you. And the company."
Xavier's jaw ticked, but he said nothing.
Bella rose from her seat slowly.
"Understood," she said.
And she walked out before they could see her cry.
---
She didn't cry until she got to the stairwell—cold steel rails and concrete silence.
Her back hit the wall. Her hands trembled.
She had worked harder than anyone. She hadn't asked for Xavier's attention. She hadn't used him.
But now… now it didn't matter.
The stain was there.
And someone had made sure of it.
---
Meanwhile, across the city, a phone vibrated in a luxury apartment filled with too many mirrors.
Camille glanced at the screen.
A single message.
From a contact saved as: Unlisted.
> Phase one complete.
She smirked.
Then typed back:
> On to phase two.
---
Bella spent the rest of the day under Clara's supervision, which was both a blessing and a cage.
Clara gave her space to focus, assigning her to a new luxury collaboration involving a rising Milanese artist. It was exciting. High-stakes. Gorgeous. But it didn't feel like a promotion.
It felt like being benched.
And the whispers didn't stop.
By the time evening came, Bella slipped out the back exit just to avoid the elevator eyes.
As she walked to the metro, her phone buzzed again.
Xavier.
> Come up. I need to see you.
She stopped walking.
Paused.
Then typed:
> No. Not until I know who's doing this to me.
The typing dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then reappeared.
Then came his reply:
> I might have a name.
---
An hour later, Bella stood in Xavier's penthouse again.
She shouldn't have come.
But her hands wouldn't stop shaking, and her throat felt raw, and the moment he opened the door, she needed to know.
"I have reason to believe it's Camille," Xavier said as soon as she walked in. "The HR report came from a secure line inside the company. One of my IT contacts traced it back to a device that logs in from Camille's wing."
Bella's heart sank. "So she's trying to ruin me?"
Xavier didn't answer.
Instead, he stepped forward, voice soft.
"She's trying to ruin us."
Bella looked up at him. "There is no us."
"There could be."
She closed her eyes. "You don't get it. I'm not just afraid of losing my job, Xavier. I'm afraid of losing myself."
He reached for her hand, carefully, slowly.
"You're the strongest person I know," he said. "But you don't have to fight this alone."
And for the first time in days, Bella let herself breathe.
Just for a moment.
Just long enough to believe him.
---
But as she left his apartment that night, a car sat parked across the street.
Inside it, Camille watched.
Phone in hand.
Recording every step Bella took.
And smiling.