Chapter 52
Chapter 52
CHARLOTTE
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The dimly lit coffee shop was practically deserted, just how I’d planned it. A booth in the corner provided the privacy I needed, far enough from prying eyes. I adjusted the scarf around my neck and pulled the brim of my hat lower, ensuring my face was fully hidden. The mask completed the look. To anyone watching, I was just another anonymous woman minding her business.
Across from me, he sat–a well–known blogger with a reputation for stirring the pot. He wore a leather jacket that looked too big for him and sunglasses, even though we were indoors. Dramatic. But I needed someone like him, someone willing to throw fuel on the fire for the right price.
“You’re late,” I said coolly, keeping my voice low.
He shrugged, leaning back in the booth like he owned the place. “Traffic. Anyway, what’s so important you had to drag me out here like this?”
I slid my phone across the table, the screen already lit with the video I’d queued up. He hesitated before picking it up, and as the footage played, his expression shifted from disinterest to shock.
“Holy shit,” he muttered under his breath, glancing up at me. “Is this real?”
“Very real,” I replied, my tone calm but firm. “That’s Damien Hale, and that’s his personal assistant. I’m sure you recognize him.”
He did. Everyone did. Damien was a household name–untouchable, influential, and married. That last detail made this footage gold.
The blogger whistled low, shaking his head. “This is big, but it’s risky. Damien Hale? The guy’s got connections everywhere. If I post this and it backfires, I’m screwed.”
I leaned forward, my voice sharp. “You’re not posting it under your name. It’ll be anonymous. You upload it, let it spread like wildfire, and keep your hands clean. Simple.”
He frowned, still hesitant. “Even anonymously, this could come back to me. People don’t just leak stuff about someone like Damien without consequences.”
I could feel my patience thinning, but I forced a smile, reaching into my bag. Pulling out the envelope, I placed it on the table between us.
“Five thousand,” I said, sliding it toward him. “Take it or leave it.”
His eyes flicked to the envelope, then back to me. “Five grand?”
“Cashable today,” I confirmed. “All you have to do is hit upload and walk away. No one will trace it back to you. And if they try, you didn’t get it from me. Hell, you don’t even know who I am.”
He hesitated for a moment longer, then grabbed the envelope, opening it to inspect the check. His grin was smug, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he said, pocketing the envelope. “Give me an hour, and it’ll be everywhere.”
I nodded, standing and adjusting my scarf. “Make sure it is.”
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I didn’t wait for his response. Leaving the coffee shop, I walked briskly to my car, my heart pounding with adrenaline. The video was damning–Damien kissing his PA in a way that left nothing to the imagination. It was intimate, passionate, and completely inappropriate for a married man.
This would be the spark that burned their marriage to the ground.
Hours later, I was home, sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in hand. My phone buzzed incessantly on the coffee table, notifications pouring in faster than I could read them. I picked it up, scrolling through the headlines with growing satisfaction.
“Damien Hale Caught in Scandal: Leaked Video Suggests Affair with Personal Assistant”
“Power Couple No More? Damien Hale’s Marriage in Trouble After Explosive Video Leak”
“Who Leaked the Hale Scandal? Internet Goes Wild Over Anonymous Video”
The internet was ablaze, hashtags trending, comments pouring in. People were furious, disgusted, entertained. The video had gone viral within minutes, and the fallout was everything I’d hoped for.
I took a sip of my wine, savoring the moment.
My phone rang, interrupting my peace. I didn’t need to check the caller ID to know it was Rosalie. She’d probably seen the video by now, her perfect little world crumbling around her.
I ignored the call, letting it go to voicemail. There was no need to talk to her now. She’d call again later, probably in tears, looking for comfort. That’s when I’d step in, the ever–supportive sister, ready to help her navigate the mess Damien had created.
I leaned back, smirking to myself.
This was the first crack in their marriage, but it wouldn’t be the last. Damien’s arrogance, his need for control–it would all work against him now. Rosalie wouldn’t stand for this kind of humiliation, not with the whole world watching. She’d be forced to demand a divorce, and this time, he wouldn’t be able to stop her.
My phone buzzed again, this time with a text.
Anonymous User: Job’s done. Hope you’re happy.
I didn’t reply. There was no need.
Instead, I turned my attention back to the headlines, scrolling through the countless articles and tweets dissecting the video. Every detail was being analyzed–who recorded it, when it happened, why Damien would risk everything for his assistant.
None of that mattered to me. What mattered was the result.
As I set my phone down, I let out a satisfied sigh.
“This is only the beginning,” I murmured to myself.
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DAMIEN
The headline on my computer screen stared back at me like a personal insult.
“Damien Hale’s Affair with Personal Assistant Exposed: The Scandal That Could Topple an Empire!”
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My hand gripped the edge of my desk so tightly it felt like I might snap the wood in two. Next to the headline was a blurry still of the video–a damning image of me and my PA, locked in what looked like a passionate kiss.
I clicked the video link for what had to be the tenth time, hoping that maybe I’d imagined it. But there it was again, playing out in HD.
The video painted the exact picture the tabloids wanted: Damien Hale, cold businessman, unfaithful husband, and reckless employer.
I pushed back my chair, standing so abruptly that it screeched against the floor. My mind churned, trying to make sense of
- it.
This wasn’t random. Someone did this to me. Someone had access to this private footage and uploaded it. First it got sent to Rosalie and now this. Who is doing this to me!?
Rosalie’s face flashed in my mind.
“No,” I muttered, shaking my head. She wouldn’t dare… would she?
The divorce conversation from the other night crept back into my head. The way her eyes had lit up with defiance when she’d said she wanted to leave. She wasn’t a fighter, not like this. But maybe she wasn’t working alone.
Did she do this to me? To get a divorce?
Was this her own idea of fighting back? And gaining her so called freedom?
I grabbed my jacket and stormed out of the office, my new assistant barely getting a word in as I barked orders to cancel all my meetings.
This wasn’t just about the scandal. It was personal now.
By the time I pulled into the driveway of our home, my anger had transformed into a slow, simmering rage. I shoved the door open, my footsteps echoing through the house.
“Rosalie!” I called out, my voice sharp and commanding.
I heard faint movement from upstairs, then her hesitant reply. “Damien? What’s going on?”
“Get down here. Now.”
She appeared at the top of the staircase, her face pale and her hands gripping the banister. She looked as though she already knew what this was about.
“I just saw the news,” I began, my tone low but heavy with accusation. “Tell me you’re not behind this.”
Her brows knitted together in confusion, and then her expression shifted to one of shock. “What? Damien?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Rosalie.” I stepped closer, looking up at her from the bottom of the stairs. “The video. The headlines. The entire damn internet thinks I’m having an affair. Who else would have a reason to do this?”
She descended the stairs slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. ” I would never be behind showcasing your dirty linens to the world. I got sent the video too remember? I wouldn’t do…”
“Wouldn’t you?” I cut her off, my voice rising. “You’ve been wanting a divorce for months. What better way to force my hand than to ruin my reputation? You wanted leverage, didn’t you?”
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Her mouth opened and closed as if she were searching for the right words, but nothing came out.
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“Admit it,” I demanded, stepping closer. “You leaked it. You sent it to the tabloids. Who helped you? Your lover? The one you were speaking to on the phone the other day?”
Her face crumpled at the mention of a lover, but then she straightened, her voice trembling as she replied. “I didn’t do this, Damien. I would never embarrass myself and you like this, and I wouldn’t stoop so low. Believe me or don’t, but I had nothing to do with it.”
The conviction in her tone gave me pause, but my anger wouldn’t let me fully believe her.
“Convenient,” I said coldly, crossing my arms. “Then who did? Because this kind of thing doesn’t happen on its own.”
“I don’t know!” she cried, her voice breaking. “Do you think I like being dragged into this mess? Do you think I want the world to see my husband with another woman and have to live through the humiliation?”
Her words struck a nerve, and for a moment, I saw the raw emotion in her eyes–pain, frustration, and something else I couldn’t quite place.
“Then why does it feel like you’ve been waiting for something like this?” I asked, my tone quieter but no less sharp.
She shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. “You’re wrong, Damien. I never wanted this. I just wanted…” She stopped herself, her voice faltering. “It doesn’t matter. You won’t believe me anyway.”
“You’re damn right I don’t,” I shot back. “Because every time I try to fix things between us, you push me away. And now this? This is war, Rosalie. You don’t want to be my enemy.”
Her eyes widened, and she took a step back. “I’m not your enemy, Damien. I’m your wife. And even if this marriage is falling apart, I wouldn’t destroy you like this.”
I stepped closer, closing the distance between us. “If I find out you’re lying, if I find out you had anything to do with this, I’ll ruin anyone who helped you. Do you hear me? Anyone. Your sister, your friends, your damn lawyer, your lover, your fucking family–anyone who thinks they can take you from me. I’ll ruin them and ruin you as well.”
Her breath hitched, and for the first time, I saw real fear in her eyes. It gave me a twisted sense of satisfaction, even though I hated that it had come to this.
“I didn’t do it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Then stay out of my way while I figure out who did,” I said, my tone icy. “Because if you’re not behind this, then someone else is trying to destroy me. And I won’t stop until I find them.”
I turned and stormed out of the room, leaving her standing there in silence.
Back in my car, I gripped the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles white. The anger that had fueled me earlier had shifted into something more dangerous–a cold determination to get to the bottom of this.
Someone was playing games with me. Someone thought they could drag my name through the mud and get away with it.
They were wrong.
Rosalie’s face flashed in my mind again, and for a brief moment, I wondered if maybe–just maybe–she was telling the
truth.
But it didn’t matter.
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Whether it was her or someone else entirely, one thing was clear.
Whoever did this was going to regret it.
田
