Monday morning came with the sharp slap of betrayal—and it wasn't even 9 a.m.
Selene stepped into the lobby of Blackwood Global, her heels clicking like gunfire. As usual, every intern turned to stone. Every assistant lowered their gaze. And then…
She saw it.
The headline.
> "Ice Queen's Scandal: Selene Blackwood's Secret Exit from Marshall Tech!"
Was the COO fired—or did she flee?
Her blood froze.
She didn't even need to click. She knew what the article said. Half-truths twisted with outright lies. The kind of trash journalism that smelled like revenge.
She also knew who leaked it.
Camille Foster.
Perfect hair. Perfect fake-smile. And a perfectly venomous streak buried beneath designer heels.
Selene stormed into her office—only to find Camille herself seated casually on the couch.
"Well," Camille purred, sipping a smoothie, "looks like someone made the news."
Selene didn't speak. She simply walked to her desk, set down her phone, and smiled—tight and deadly.
"Camille. You should be careful. Some leaks…come back to drown people."
Camille laughed lightly. "Oh relax, darling. It's just press. People love a little mystery. You, of all people, should know how to play the game."
Selene's eyes narrowed. "You've mistaken silence for weakness. Again."
Before Camille could respond, the door opened.
Julian walked in, eyes on his phone, then paused mid-step.
"I see I've stumbled into a Bond villain meeting."
Camille straightened, suddenly sweeter than syrup.
"Julian, good morning," she cooed. "I was just leaving."
He watched her walk out, then turned to Selene. His expression was unreadable.
"You okay?"
Selene said nothing. She looked calm—icy, even. But Julian wasn't buying it.
He closed the door behind him.
"You've seen the article."
"Of course," she said coolly.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Do you want me to have legal shut it down?"
Selene looked at him. And for the first time, she saw something dangerous in his face—not the playful CEO she'd clashed with, but a man with power and precision, willing to use both.
"No," she said finally. "That'll give it more fuel. I'll handle it."
Julian stepped closer. Too close.
"You always do. But maybe you don't have to this time."
She hated that he meant it. That the offer sounded like protection instead of pity.
So she said nothing.
And Julian, smart man that he was, didn't push. But before he left, he dropped a file on her desk.
"Project Crimson. Our next joint pitch. We fly to Singapore Wednesday."
She opened it—and saw the second twist of the day.
The event?
Cross-Asia CEO Summit.
And the keynote panel?
Julian Cross… and Camille Foster.
---
🌆 Later That Evening – Rooftop Bar
Selene didn't drink often. But tonight, she sat on the rooftop of her friend Marcus Hale's apartment, swirling whiskey and silence.
Marcus—her ex. Technically. More like "the one that got close before she ran."
He leaned against the railing, beer in hand.
"You're thinking too loudly," he said.
Selene didn't look at him. "That obvious?"
"You make silence feel like a hurricane."
She finally turned. "You ever regret leaving?"
Marcus blinked. "Wow. Out of nowhere."
"I mean it. You left the company. You left me. Do you ever regret not fighting harder?"
He stared at her a long beat.
Then: "Do you regret not letting me?"
Selene didn't answer.
Because yes. And no. And always.
---
📱 Meanwhile – Camille's Suite
Camille sat in front of her vanity, phone on speaker.
"So? Did it rattle her?" asked the voice on the other end.
"She's still pretending she doesn't bleed," Camille said. "But trust me… one more push and she'll crack."
A pause.
"You think she'll leave?"
Camille smiled darkly. "Oh, she won't leave."
She picked up a photo—Selene and Julian at the retreat, mid-laugh.
"She'll break. Right in front of him."