Because Elena knew.
Because she was right next to me when Marcus showed me the email. When I couldn’t focus on anything except how close her body was to mine.
I thought she was working on a way to think ahead if the Calloways brought it up during the ballgame. She was actually thinking of how she and Adrian would use it to their fucking advantage.
The sharp sting in my chest intensifies.
That’s how they’re working this.
Elena was never just a pawn. She’s the primary fucking weapon.
I grit my teeth, barely keeping my rage from spilling over. “This was an attack,” I bite out. “Someone wants this merger dead.”
“And I’m supposed to believe it wasn’t you?” Calloway’s voice is cold, laced with unshakable distrust. “Jesus, Damien. Adrian was right.”
The words hit harder than they should.
Because hearing them makes it fucking real.
He believes Adrian over me.
Calloway lets out a slow, heavy breath, like he’s already written me off. “You have until nine a.m. tomorrow,” he says, his voice devoid of the warmth it once held. “To fix this. To find out who’s behind it and prove you had nothing to do with it.”
The line goes dead.
I stare at my phone, my pulse pounding, my fury boiling over into something lethal.
Marcus doesn’t say anything—just turns his phone around, the New York Times article lighting up the screen.
I barely skim it.
I don’t need to.
I already know what it says.
Merger of the Decade Collapses: Wolfe & Calloway’s Deal on the Verge of Ruin Amidst Leaks and Scandal.
Everything I’ve built.
Everything I’ve worked for.
Everything I trusted in Elena.
All of it—fucking destroyed.
I lift my head, my vision red. “Find them.”
Marcus doesn’t hesitate. “Already on it.”
I punch my phone too fucking hard. The security office at the Blackstone answers in a second.
“Mr. Wolfe.”
“I have a security breach and need to lock down my penthouse. No one goes in.” I bark it out and hear someone on the other end typing rapidly on a computer keyboard.
“The code has gone out, Mr. Wolfe.”
“Good.”