Chapter 118
Chapter 118
Rose stared at the laptop screen, a smile spreading across her face as she scrolled through the photographs. The yacht had been easy to find once Herod’s investigators had traced Alexander’s movements. Getting someone with a telephoto lens onto a nearby boat had been even easier.
“Perfect,” she whispered, zooming in on a particularly intimate image of Camille and Alexander on the deck of his yacht. Her sister, not that she deserved that title anymore, locked in an embrace with the billionaire, their kiss leaving nothing to the imagination.
The penthouse suite Herod had secured for her sparkled with morning light, illuminating dozens of photos and documents spread across the glass table. Three empty coffee cups testified to her sleepless night of preparation.
Her phone buzzed. Herod.
“Are you watching the financial news?” he asked without preamble.
“No,” Rose replied, still scrolling through the photos. “I’ve been busy with our little project.”
“Kane Industries stock jumped twelve points after yesterday’s meeting,” Herod said, frustration sharpening his voice. “Your sister completely dismantled my safety concerns. Made me look like a fool.”
Rose switched to speaker phone and set it down. “She’s not my sister. And don’t worry about yesterday. By this afternoon, no one will be talking about the Phoenix Grid anymore.”
She selected nine photos, each more damning than the last. Camille and Alexander kissing. Camille in his arms at the railing. The two of them disappearing below deck, then emerging later with unmistakable signs of what they’d been doing.
“The photos are ready?” Herod asked.
“Better than we hoped.” Rose moved them to a separate folder. “The lighting is perfect. No question about who they are. No possibility of claiming they’re doctored.”
She heard Herod’s approving chuckle. “And the other material?”
Rose clicked to another folder containing documents, emails, and financial records, some real, most fabricated by the expert Herod had hired.
“All prepared,” she confirmed. “The story writes itself. Alexander Pierce, using Camille Kane to gain control of Victoria’s company through the bedroom rather than the boardroom.”
“Which outlets are you sending them to?”
Rose picked up a handwritten list. “New York Spectator gets the exclusive on the photos. They’ll reach the widest audience fastest. The financial documents go to the Wall Street Journal and Bloomberg simultaneously, more credible sources for that angle.”
She checked her watch. “The Spectator will run the photos online at noon. The financial pieces will hit the wire services an hour later, just as everyone is talking about the scandal.”
“Excellent.” Herod’s voice carried grudging admiration. “I underestimated your media instincts.”
“I lived with these people for seven years,” Rose reminded him. “I know exactly how to manipulate public perception. It was my specialty, remember?”
“Don’t get too confident,” Herod warned. “Your sister has proven remarkably resilient.”
“She won’t recover from this,” Rose said, certainty hardening her voice. “Victoria Kane values control above all else. The suggestion that Camille is compromised by a relationship with a business rival, letting emotions cloud her judgment, that strikes at the heart of everything Victoria believes in.”
She clicked through the photos again, savoring each one. “Victoria may have accepted Camille as her heir, but she’ll never tolerate this kind of vulnerability. Not with Alexander Pierce of all people.”
“Why does that name matter specifically?” Herod asked.
Rose smiled, pleased to know something Herod didn’t. “Victoria and Alexander have history. Years ago, Pierce Industries tried to acquire a shipping company Victoria wanted. He outmaneuvered her, and Victoria never forgives anyone who beats her.”
She pulled up another document, an old news Successfully unlocked! looking coldly at Alexander across a
conference table. “Victoria sees him as a threat Always res
“All the better for our purposes,” Herod said thoughtfully.
Rose stood and stretched, moving to the floor–to–ceiling windows overlooking Central Park. “How much more do you need to buy?”
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“With what I already have secretly through shell companies, another fifteen percent would give me effective control,” Herod replied. “The remaining shareholders are scattered, disorganized. They’ll follow whoever holds the largest block.”
Rose nodded, watching a jogger far below. “And when you control Kane Industries?”
“We dismantle it,” Herod said simply. “Sell off the profitable divisions, shut down the rest. Including the Phoenix Grid.”
“And Camille?”
“Publicly humiliated. Professionally destroyed. Exactly what you wanted.”
Rose closed her eyes, imagining the scene. Camille watching helplessly as everything she’d built crumbled. The press that had praised her as Victoria’s brilliant protégée would tear her apart as the foolish woman who fell into bed with the enemy, who lost an empire through weakness.
“What time is your meeting with the reporters?” Herod asked.
“Eleven,” Rose replied, glancing at her watch. “I’m meeting the Spectator’s editor off the record at that café near Columbus Circle. He gets the exclusive photos, and I feed him quotes from ‘sources close to Kane Industries‘ suggesting the
relationship has been going on for months.”
“You’re not worried about being recognized?”
Rose laughed. “I’ve spent my life learning how to change my appearance. Besides, the media has forgotten me already. Six months is an eternity in their world.”
She had dyed her hair dark brown and now wore it in a severe bob, nothing like her previous flowing blonde style. Thick- framed glasses and carefully applied makeup altered the shape of her face. The transformation was so complete that she’d walked past a former client in the lobby yesterday without being recognized.
After ending the call, Rose returned to the table, meticulously organizing the materials for her meeting. The fabricated financial documents suggesting Alexander had been buying Kane Industries stock through proxies even before meeting Camille. The fake email trail indicating he had pursued her with calculated intent, not genuine interest. The manufactured evidence that he had previously used relationships to gain business advantage.
None of it would stand up to serious investigation, but that didn’t matter. By the time anyone disproved the allegations, the damage would be done.
An hour later, Rose sat in the back corner of the café, waiting. She’d arrived early to secure the perfect table, private enough for a confidential conversation, but public enough that the editor wouldn’t feel trapped.
She spotted him the moment he entered, Malcolm Reed, the Spectator’s executive editor, a man whose tabloid had once featured Rose herself in its society pages. He scanned the café, not recognizing her even as his gaze passed over her. She raised a hand slightly, and he approached.
“Ms. Johnson?” he asked, using the fake name she’d given.
Rose nodded, gesturing to the chair across from her. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Reed.”
“Your message said you had information about Camille Kane and Alexander Pierce,” he said, getting straight to business. Something that would ‘shock New York society.“”
“I do.” Rose removed the memory drive from her purse and placed it on the table. “These photos were taken three days ago on Mr. Pierce’s private yacht.”
Reed picked up the drive, turning it in his fingers with caution. “And you obtained these how?”
“That’s not important,” Rose replied smoothly. “What matters is their authenticity. They’re completely unaltered. Your technical team can verify that.”
“And what do you want in exchange for this… exclusive?”
Rose leaned forward slightly. “Two things. First, complete anonymity. I was never here, we never met, you found the drive in your mailbox from an unknown source.”
Reed nodded. This was standard procedure for tabloid bombshells.
“Second,” Rose continued, “I want you to include certain… context in your reporting.”
“What kind of context?”
Rose withdrew a sealed envelope from her purse. “Background information about Mr. Pierce’s business dealings. His history of using personal relationships for corporate gain. The convenient timing of this affair with Ms. Kane’s sudden rise to power at Kane Industries.”
Reed’s eyes narrowed. “You’re suggesting Pierce is using Kane to get to Victoria’s company?”
“I’m not suggesting anything,” Rose said innocently. “I’m simply providing context that your readers might find… illuminating.”
Reed took the envelope, weighing it in his hand. “If these photos are what you say they are, this will be front page. Online
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within the hour.”
“I would expect nothing less,” Rose replied. “The public deserves to know when the acting CEO of one of New York’s largest companies is compromised by a personal relationship with a known competitor.”
After Reed departed, Rose remained at the table, ordering lunch she had no intention of eating. Her appetite had been replaced by a humming excitement. She checked her watch: 11:47. In thirteen minutes, the first photos would hit the Spectator’s website.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Herod: *Financial documents delivered to WSJ and Bloomberg. Contacts confirm they‘ re following up.*
Rose smiled. Perfect timing. She replied: *Photos delivered to Spectator. Expect online by noon.*
At exactly 12:01, the headline appeared:
*EXCLUSIVE: CAMILLE KANE’S SECRET YACHT ROMANCE WITH BUSINESS RIVAL*
Rose’s heart leapt as the page loaded, revealing the most damning photo front and center, Camille in Alexander’s arms on the deck of his yacht, locked in a passionate embrace that left no doubt about their relationship. The caption beneath it was perfect: *Kane Industries‘ acting CEO caught in intimate moment with Alexander Pierce, whose company directly competes with Kane in multiple markets.*
She scrolled down, pleasure washing through her as she took in the article. Malcolm Reed had used everything she’d given him, framing the relationship exactly as she’d suggested, not as a simple romance, but as a potential conflict of interest, a betrayal of Victoria Kane’s trust, a scandal that raised serious questions about Camille’s judgment.
*Sources close to Kane Industries express shock at the revelation,* one paragraph read. *“Victoria Kane has always maintained strict boundaries between personal and professional relationships,” said one insider who requested anonymity. “She would never approve of her chosen successor becoming involved with Alexander Pierce, of all people.“*
Rose laughed softly. She had written those quotes herself, knowing exactly how Victoria would react. Reed had swallowed them whole.
Her phone buzzed again, a notification from a financial news app. Kane Industries stock had dropped three points in the first minutes after the story broke. As she watched, it fell another two.
This was just the beginning. When the financial allegations hit in an hour, the real damage would begin. By market close, Camille’s reputation would be in tatters, Kane Industries stock would be in freefall, and Victoria would face the impossible choice between supporting Camille or preserving her company’s reputation.
ions About Pierce- In the taxi back to Herod’s penthouse, she received another alert: *BREAKING: Documents Raise C Kane Relationship*. The Wall Street Journal had published their story, complete with the fabricated emails and financial records suggesting Alexander had engineered the relationship to gain access to Kane Industries‘ proprietary information. Her taxi passed a newsstand where a worker was putting up the Spectator’s afternoon edition, the headline and yacht photo splashed across the front page. People were already stopping to stare.
Rose leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes as satisfaction washed through her. By tomorrow, Camille’s world would lie in ruins. Her professional reputation destroyed. Her relationship with Victoria damaged beyond repair. Her romance with Alexander tainted by suspicion.
Everything Camille valued, everything she had built since Victoria rescued her from that parking garage, all of it collapsing because she had dared to feel, to connect, to become vulnerable.
The taxi pulled up outside Herod’s building. As Rose stepped out, her phone buzzed with yet another : Kane Industries stock had been halted after falling twenty points in a single hour.
The destruction had begun, faster and more completely than even she had hoped. By this time tomorrow, nothing would remain of Camille Kane’s carefully constructed new life.
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