The next morning, Selina arrived at Kane Enterprises to find whispers trailing her like shadows. Heads turned as she stepped into the lobby; conversations paused mid-sentence. A receptionist gave her a pitying glance before quickly looking away.
Her stomach sank. Something was wrong.
When she reached her desk, she understood. A manila envelope sat in the center, unmarked. Inside were photographs, grainy but damning.
Her heart thudded as she flipped through them. There she was, entering Oliver's apartment late at night. Another photo showed Oliver standing close to her in the lobby, his hand brushing against hers. The angles were intimate, suggestive.
And then the worst. A photo of Selina leaving his penthouse the following morning, hair slightly tousled, expression guarded.
It told a story she hadn't lived.
Her hands shook. These weren't random paparazzi shots. They were carefully staged, pieced together to weave a lie.
The final sheet was a printout from a gossip blog:
"Oliver Kane's Secret Mistress? Whispers of an Office Affair Shake Kane Enterprises."
Her blood ran cold.
By noon, the story had spread like wildfire. Employees whispered in hallways, journalists circled the building like vultures, and even the boardroom was buzzing with speculation.
Selina sat frozen at her desk, unable to breathe. This was Clara's work. It had to be. Who else had the access, the motive, and the cruelty?
Her phone buzzed. A message from Clara lit the screen:
You wanted to play. Now let's see if you can survive.
Selina's nails dug into her palm as rage surged through her veins. She wanted to storm into Clara's office, tear the smug smile off her face, scream until her throat gave out.
But Clara thrived on chaos. Selina couldn't give her that satisfaction.
She needed to think. To plan.
"Selina."
The voice jolted her. Oliver stood beside her desk, his expression unreadable. The office around them quieted as everyone strained to overhear.
"Come with me," he said curtly.
She followed him into his office, the heavy door shutting out the noise.
Oliver paced behind his desk, his jaw tight, eyes stormy. "What the hell is this?" He slapped the folder of photos onto the desk.
Selina's chest tightened. "They're lies. I don't know who—"
"Lies?" His voice was low, sharp. "These pictures don't look like lies."
"Oliver, you know me," she said desperately. "I would never—"
"Do I?" His words cut. "Because lately, I don't know anything anymore."
Her heart splintered. She wanted to shake him, to make him see the truth. "You think I leaked this? That I want the world calling me your mistress?"
He flinched at the word. For a moment, the hard mask slipped, and she saw the guilt beneath it.
"This isn't good for either of us," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "The board will eat this alive. Clara's already—"
"Clara," Selina hissed. "Of course she's behind this! Can't you see? She's trying to destroy me."
Oliver's eyes darkened, torn between reason and denial. He sank into his chair, staring at the damning photographs. "I'll handle it."
Selina's chest burned. He'll handle it? That was all?
"You can't just cover this up," she snapped. "That's what Clara wants so she wants me buried, humiliated. If you let this slide, she wins."
Oliver looked up sharply. "What do you suggest I do? March into the press and announce that Clara Bennett is staging smear campaigns?"
"Yes!" Selina cried, her voice breaking. "Because that's the truth!"
For a long moment, their eyes locked, the room heavy with the weight of everything unsaid desire, betrayal, trust broken and rebuilt only to shatter again.
Finally, Oliver's voice softened. "Selina… trust me. I'll fix this."
But trust was the very thing Clara had poisoned.
By evening, Selina was exhausted. She left the building through the side exit to avoid the paparazzi, but flashes still caught her, questions flying like knives:
"Are you Mr. Kane's mistress?"
"Is this why you were promoted?''
"Did you sleep your way into the company?"
Her chest tightened until she could barely breathe. She shoved through the crowd, her vision blurring.
On the curb, a black car waited. The window rolled down. Clara's face appeared, bathed in the glow of the streetlight, her smile sharp enough to cut.
"Rough day, darling?
Selina froze.
Clara leaned casually against the doorframe, swirling a glass of champagne. "You really should've known better. Men like Oliver Kane… they don't fall for nobodies like you. At best, you're entertainment. At worst, you're a scandal."
Selina's throat burned with unshed tears. "You think this makes you powerful? Spreading lies, dragging me through the mud?"
Clara's eyes glittered. "Power isn't about truth, Selina. It's about perception. And right now, the world perceives you as nothing more than his wh*r*."
The word slapped her harder than any physical blow.
Clara's smile widened. "Walk away, and maybe you can salvage what little dignity you have left. Stay… and I'll ruin you."
Selina's fists clenched, her body trembling. For the first time, she didn't feel weak but she felt something sharper, fiercer, alive with fire.
"Try," she whispered. "Try to ruin me, Clara. Because I'm done running."
For a heartbeat, Clara's expression faltered. Then she laughed, a cold, musical sound. "Oh, darling… you really don't know what war means."
The car door shut, the engine roared, and Clara vanished into the night, leaving Selina standing on the curb, breathless, her reflection trembling in the glass skyscrapers around her.
But Selina wasn't broken. Not anymore.
She would fight.
And this time, she would learn to play Clara's game better than Clara ever could.
*Cracks in the Glass*
Selina didn't sleep that night.
She sat at her small kitchen table, the city lights streaming through the window like fractured stars, every sound outside sharp in the silence of her apartment. Her mind replayed Clara's taunting words over and over, like a broken record.
"Power isn't about truth, Selina. It's about perception."
For years, Selina had fought to survive quietly, working twice as hard just to be noticed, swallowing insults, enduring being overlooked. But this was different. Clara hadn't just humiliated her but she'd tried to erase her entirely, to brand her as a scandal instead of a person.
Selina's chest burned with fury, but beneath the fire, something new stirred. A cold, deliberate clarity.
If Clara wanted war, she would get one.
Selina reached for her laptop.
For the next week, she lived like a ghost. By day, she showed up at Kane Enterprises with her chin high, ignoring whispers and pointed stares. By night, she dug.
Clara Bennett was careful, but nobody lived at the top without skeletons in their closet. Selina scoured public records, financial filings, gossip columns. She even went as far as slipping into archives of old newspapers at the public library.
Most of what she found was spotless, Clara's reputation was polished to perfection, every article glowing, every photograph immaculate. But Selina knew that kind of shine didn't happen naturally.
And then, one night, she found it.
Buried in the archives of a society page from six years ago, a small article:
"Socialite Clara Bennett's Father Faces Embezzlement Inquiry."
Her heart raced. The article described a minor scandal—Mr. Bennett accused of siphoning funds from a charity foundation. The case had mysteriously disappeared, never reaching trial, but the stain was there. Small, faded, but real.
Selina leaned closer to the screen, her pulse thudding in her ears. If Clara's family reputation had once been threatened, it meant they had weaknesses. Connections, cover-ups. Secrets.
And secrets could be exposed.
Two days later, Selina attended a board meeting at Kane Enterprises. Oliver was there, his face a mask of control, though the tension in his jaw betrayed the stress. Clara, seated elegantly across the table, was radiant as ever, dressed in white silk, her diamond earrings catching the light like tiny blades.
Selina's stomach knotted, but she forced herself to sit tall. She wouldn't flinch, not this time.
The meeting began with quarterly reports, projections, numbers that blurred into background noise. But Selina felt the weight of Clara's gaze on her, sharp and mocking.
At one point, Clara leaned over slightly, her voice low enough only for Selina to hear.
"Still here? I would've thought you'd resign after last week's little scandal."
Selina turned her head slowly, meeting Clara's icy smile with steady eyes. "Funny. I was just thinking the same about you."
Clara's brows lifted in amusement, but something flickered in her expression, a crack, small but visible.
Selina didn't smile. She didn't blink. She let the silence stretch just long enough for Clara to shift uncomfortably before the discussion moved on.
It was a tiny victory. But for Selina, it was everything.
After the meeting, Oliver caught up with her in the hallway.
"Selina." His voice was softer than it had been in days.
She turned, her chest tightening. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, his suit immaculate but his tie slightly loosened.
"Are you all right?" he asked quietly.
Her lips parted, words threatening to spill out no, I'm not all right, Clara is tearing me apart, I need you on my side but she bit them back.
She couldn't afford to look weak, not even with him.
"I'm fine," she said coolly.
Oliver studied her for a moment, his gaze lingering on her face like he wanted to believe her. Then he nodded, though his eyes told her he didn't.
"Stay strong," he murmured, brushing past her. Her heart ached as he walked away. But she didn't crumble. Not anymore.
That night, Selina's opportunity came sooner than she expected.
She was leaving the office late when she overheard voices in the stairwell. She paused, hidden in the shadows, recognizing one of them instantly, Clara's.
"…it won't hold much longer," Clara was saying, her voice sharp with irritation. "If that file leaks, we're finished."
Selina's pulse hammered.
A man answered, his voice low and rough. "Relax. No one's going to find it. I took care of everything."
Clara's heels clicked on the concrete floor, the sound impatient. "You'd better. If Kane ever discovers how we silenced that charity scandal, he'll destroy us both."
Selina's breath caught. The charity scandal.
The very one she'd uncovered in the archives.
Her hands trembled, but she forced herself to stay quiet until Clara and the man left. When the stairwell finally emptied, Selina exhaled shakily, her mind racing.
Clara hadn't just survived her father's scandal. She'd covered it up. Maybe even illegally.
And now Selina had proof.
For the first time in weeks, Selina felt something fierce rise in her chest not fear, not anger. Power.
She hurried home, her thoughts racing faster than her footsteps.
She had to be careful. Reckless moves could backfire, and Clara was too dangerous to underestimate. But this secret… it was the first real weapon Selina had ever held.
She sat at her desk, staring at her laptop. She could leak the information anonymously, let the press devour Clara's reputation. She could even bring it directly to Oliver, force him to see Clara for who she really was.
But her instincts whispered caution. Clara wasn't a woman who fell easily. If Selina struck, she had to make sure it was lethal—no room for retaliation.
Still, she allowed herself a small smile, the first in days. Clara thought she was untouchable, but now Selina had touched the cracks in her glass fortress.
And glass no matter how flawless shatters when struck in the right place.
The next morning, Selina walked into Kane Enterprises with her head held higher. The whispers were still there, the stares still sharp, but something inside her had shifted.
Clara was waiting in the lobby, perfectly poised, her smile venomous. "Still pretending you belong here?" she purred.
Selina's lips curved, calm and deliberate. "Oh, I don't have to pretend, Clara."
For a flicker of a second, Clara's eyes narrowed, suspicion clouding her polished mask.
Selina didn't elaborate. She didn't need to. She simply walked past, her heels clicking with quiet defiance, leaving Clara staring after her.
For once, it wasn't Selina who felt small.
But as Selina stepped into the elevator, her phone buzzed. A message lit the screen:
You think you've found something. Don't get ahead of yourself.
Her blood chilled. Clara knew.
Selina stared at the glowing words, her reflection trembling in the elevator's mirrored walls. For every move she made, Clara was already watching. Already ready to strike back.
The war between them was no longer silent. It was open, dangerous, and inevitable.
And Selina, once a pawn, was finally stepping onto the board as a player.