Chapter 61
Chapter 61
DAMIEN
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The room was dimly lit, illuminated by the glow of multiple monitors displaying charts, graphs, and endless streams of code. I sat at the end of the table, my fingers tapping impatiently against the polished wood. The weight of my decision pressed heavily on my chest, but there was no other way.
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Across from me, a man named Greg, the team lead, leaned forward. His dark–rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he studied me. I had promised Rosalie I’d fix everything and taking off those embarrassing pictures of her and that damn video of me off the internet was going to be the first step.
“Mr. Hale,” he began, his tone measured, “what you’re asking isn’t impossible, but it’s not simple either. Removing content from the internet is… tricky.”
I exhaled sharply. “Tricky how? Isn’t that what you people do?”
Greg exchanged glances with the others in the room. “Yes, but once something is uploaded online, it doesn’t just exist in one place. It gets shared, copied, downloaded. Even if we delete the original source, there’s no guarantee it won’t pop up somewhere else.”
“Then do what you have to do to make sure it doesn’t,” I snapped. My voice was colder than I intended, but I didn’t apologize. “I’m not here to debate what’s possible. I’m here to pay you to get it done.”
Another man, younger and dressed casually in a hoodie, spoke up. “It’s going to cost you. A lot. This isn’t just a one–time job. We’ll need to monitor continuously, track any re–uploads, and potentially pursue legal action against platforms hosting the
content.”
“How much are we talking?” I asked, though I already knew the answer didn’t matter.
Greg straightened in his chair. “For a full takedown and ongoing monitoring? Somewhere between two and three hundred thousand dollars. Possibly more, depending on how widely the videos and images have spread.”
The number hit me like a slap, but I didn’t flinch. “Done,” I said immediately.
“Mr. Hale,” Greg said cautiously, “you should understand that even with that investment, there’s no guarantee we’ll get everything. The internet is like a hydra–cut off one head, and two more grow back.”
“I don’t care about guarantees,” I replied firmly. “I care about results. Just get it done. No excuses.”
The team murmured amongst themselves, their voices low but deliberate. I could tell they were weighing the complexity of the task. Finally, Greg turned back to me.
“Alright,” he said. “We’ll start by identifying the sources. From what we’ve seen, the videos and images are hosted on multiple platforms. Some are private servers, others are social media accounts. We’ll issue takedown requests for everything we can find.”
“And what about the people behind this?” I asked, my jaw tightening. “Can you track them?”
Greg nodded. “Yes, but that’s a separate process. It involves tracing IP addresses, analyzing metadata, and potentially working with law enforcement. It’s invasive and time–consuming.”
“Do it,” I said without hesitation. “Whoever leaked those videos will regret it.”
The younger man in the hoodie frowned. “You should know, once we start tracking, there’s a chance the culprits could
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Chapter 61
retaliate. They might upload more content or try to smear you further.”
“I’m prepared for that,” I said.
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My mind flashed to the night everything fell apart–the cameras, the whispers, the flashes of light that followed Rosalie and me everywhere.
“Good,” Greg said. “But there’s one more thing. If this content is on dark web servers, it’ll be much harder to remove. That kind of takedown involves legal teams, cybersecurity experts, and in some cases, negotiations with the site owners.”
“And the cost for that?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.
“Another fifty to a hundred thousand, depending on how deep it goes.”
I leaned back in my chair, letting out a slow breath. The cost was steep, but it was a drop in the ocean compared to what was at stake. “Fine,” I said. “Whatever it takes.”
The room fell silent for a moment, the hum of the monitors the only sound. Finally, Greg spoke again.
“You seem… determined,” he said, his tone almost curious. “Why go through all this? Most people would just let it blow over.”
I met his gaze, my voice steady. “Because this isn’t just about me. It’s about my wife, my marriage, and everything I’ve built. Those videos… those pictures… they’ve ruined her. She didn’t deserve this. I won’t let her name or mine be dragged through the mud.”
Greg nodded, a hint of respect in his eyes. “Understood. We’ll do everything we can.”
“Good,” I said, standing. “Keep me updated on every step. I want progress reports daily.”
As I walked out of the room, I felt a strange mix of emotions–determination, anger, and the faintest flicker of hope. For the
finally taking control, finally doing something to set things right.
first time in weeks, it felt like,
It wouldn’t be easy, and it wouldn’t be quick. But if it meant protecting Rosalie and salvaging what was left of our marriage, then no price was too high.
CHARLOTTE
The soft hum of my office’s air conditioning was the only sound in the room as I flipped through yet another file, my pen scratching notes into the margins. My desk was cluttered with documents, half–empty coffee cups, and a paperweight I’d been meaning to replace. It was late, but the workload never seemed to end.
I paused, stretching my neck. I grabbed my phone off the edge of the desk to check the time. Almost nine pm.
As I was about to put it down, my phone vibrated in my hand, a single notification flashing across the screen. An email.
Normally, I’d ignore it until morning, but something about the subject line made my stomach tighten: “I Know What You
Did.”
Frowning, I tapped on it, and the email opened to reveal a short, chilling message:
“You think you’re so clever, don’t you? I know you’re the one behind the video of Damien and his PA. Don’t even try to deny it. If you want this to stay between us, you’ll cooperate. Otherwise, I’ll expose you.”
I stared at the screen, the words blurring together as my mind raced. My heart pounded so loudly I could hear it in my ears.
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Someone knew.
I swallowed hard, rereading the message. No name. No signature. Just a threat hanging in the air like a noose around my neck.
My fingers shook as I typed a response, trying to sound as composed as possible.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who is this?”
I hit send and waited, the seconds stretching into what felt like hours. My palms were slick with sweat, and I wiped them on my skirt, forcing myself to take a deep breath.
A reply came almost instantly:
“Don’t play dumb, Charlotte, you know exactly what I mean. If you don’t want your name dragged through the mud, you’ll do as I say. Trust me, I have everything I need to ruin you.”
My chest tightened, and I stood abruptly, pacing the small office. My heels clicked against the floor, the sound sharp and frantic.
How could someone know? I’d been careful. So careful.
I clenched my fists, biting back a curse. My phone vibrated again, pulling me back to the moment. Another email. “Here’s how this will work: you’ll do what I ask, when I ask, without hesitation. If you try anything stupid, I’ll make sure Damien, His Wife and everyone else knows the truth. Understand?”
I felt sick. My throat was dry, and the room seemed suddenly too small. I sat back down, my hands gripping the edge of the desk.
What was I supposed to do? Respond? Ignore it? Pretend this wasn’t happening?
I typed out another message, my thoughts a chaotic mess.
“If you really have proof, show me. Otherwise, leave me alone.”
It was a bluff, but it was all I had.
The response came quicker this time, almost as if they were waiting for me to challenge them.
“Proof? You mean like this?”
Attached to the email was a single image of me standing outside Damien’s office, my hands outstretched with my phone held tightly. It was obvious to anyone that I was recording something. The photo, taken from a hidden vantage point, made it clear the person had spotted me, concealed themselves, and captured that single shot.
My breath caught in my throat as I stared at it.
Panic clawed at my chest. This couldn’t be happening.
The email continued:
“Convinced now? I know everything, Charlotte. And if you think for one second that I’m bluffing, you’ll regret it. Now, are you ready to cooperate, or should I hit send to Damien?”
My hands trembled as I set the phone down, leaning back in my chair. The walls of the office seemed to close in around me.
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Chapter 61
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I needed to think. I needed to stay calm. But how could I, knowing someone had this kind of power over me?
I forced myself to type out another message, keeping it short.
“What do you want?”
The reply came just as quickly:
“Good. You’re finally listening. Let’s just say you’ll owe me a few favors. But for now, sit tight. I’ll be in touch.”
And just like that, the conversation ended. No name. No demands. Just a vague threat hanging over my head like a storm cloud.
I set the phone down and buried my face in my hands, my mind racing.
I couldn’t think straight. All I knew was that I couldn’t let this spiral out of control.
Taking a deep breath, I stood and walked to the window, staring out at the city lights below. My reflection stared back at me, pale and strained.
Whoever this person was, they had me cornered. And for the first time in a long time, I felt powerless.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.
Whoever they were, I’d find them. And when I did, they’d regret ever coming after me.
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