Page 92 of Falling for Mr. Ruthless
"We already have." I meet his gaze steadily. "The intrusion happened last week. The evidence trail leads directly to her private server, where we've planted corrupted files from three of her highest-profile clients."
"That's not just business, Jakob. That's?—"
"It's what's necessary." I cut him off, voice cool. "Next week, those files appear on a dark web forum frequented by financial journalists. Anonymous source claims they came from a disgruntled employee at Ardano Holdings."
"And when the clients discover their information is compromised?"
"They'll need immediate containment and reputation management." A cold smile touches my lips. "Which is exactly what Novare Global Strategies specializes in."
"You'll position yourself as the solution to the problem you created."
"I'll position myself as the only option after her catastrophic failure is exposed." I close the folder with deliberate care. "In our world, trust is the only currency that matters. Break it once, you're finished."
Tyson's eyes narrow slightly, understanding the architecture I'm building. "That evidence doesn't exist."
"It will by noon." I don't blink. Don't hesitate. "Collins has a team working on it now."
He sits back, studying me. I see the moment he realizes I'm not asking for approval. Not seeking advice. This isn't a consultation. It's a briefing.
"You're manufacturing evidence." Not a question. Not quite an accusation. "You'll ruin the audit."
"I'm creating truth." I close the file again, deliberately. "The same way she did when she threatened Chanel four years ago. The same way she's doing now with the fabricated emails."
I meet Tyson's eyes, letting him see something I've kept leashed for years. Something cold. Something final.
"She started this game. I'm ending it. And when I'm done, she'll serve as a warning to anyone else who thinks they can touch what's mine."
"Because you're better at it."
"Because I have more to lose."
The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. The truth is simpler, darker: I have nothing left to lose.
After last night, the way Chanel looked at me when we finished, that careful distance in her eyes even as her body stilltrembled against mine—I know. Some bridges can't be rebuilt. Some trust can't be restored.
Tyson stands, moves to the window I abandoned. Looks out at the city waking beneath us. When he speaks, his voice is quieter than before.
"What happens when Chanel finds out what you've done?"
"She already knows what I'm capable of." I join him at the window, not looking at the city but at my reflection. At the man taking shape in the glass. "She's always known. I was the one pretending otherwise."
"And if she doesn't want this version of you?"
The question should hurt. Should give me pause. Should make me reconsider.
It doesn't.
"Then she was never really in love with me," I say, voice steady. "Just the man I let her see."
Tyson turns to study my face, looking for something—doubt, perhaps. Hesitation.
He won't find it.
"You understand what you're risking." Again, not a question.
"I understand what I've already lost." I move back to my desk, pulling up emails on my monitor. Starting the machinery that will dismantle Megan piece by piece. "Twice."
"And if it costs you Chanel for good?"
