You almost believed her.
Almost.
The next morning, New York woke up to Vanessa Sterling’s downfall.
The first video appeared at 7:14 a.m.
Someone had leaked the ballroom footage.
Not the whole night. Just the moment Vanessa grabbed Elena, raised her hand, and struck you so hard her ring opened your face. The clip was silent, which somehow made it worse. Viewers could see your body turn, could see the old woman trembling in your arms, could see the blood on your cheek before anyone in the room moved to help.
By 8:00 a.m., the clip was everywhere.
By 9:30, Sterling Shipping issued a statement calling it a “deeply regrettable misunderstanding.”
By 10:15, the internet had found the police report Vanessa filed against you.
By noon, people were calling her a liar, a coward, a spoiled heiress who hit a waitress and tried to ruin her life for bleeding on command.
But Roman did not stop at public shame.
That was only the beginning.
You were in Liam’s room when his phone buzzed with a news alert. He looked down, then up at you with wide eyes.
“Iris,” he said. “You need to see this.”
You took the phone.
Hartwell Global shares had plunged after federal investigators announced a review of overseas accounts. Sterling Shipping contracts at the Port of Newark had been suspended pending “compliance concerns.” Preston Hartwell’s father had stepped down from three boards in one afternoon.
You stared at the headlines.
Then at Roman, who stood by the window.
“What did you do?”
He did not pretend not to understand. “I opened doors they paid people to keep closed.”
