~011
The Trap is Set
---
Bella woke up to her phone vibrating violently on the nightstand.
She blinked against the morning light streaming through the blinds, grabbed it with half-asleep fingers—and froze.
30 new notifications.
Emails. Mentions. Two missed calls from Clara. One from an unknown number. And five unread messages in the company group chat labeled "LV Internal – URGENT."
Her stomach turned cold.
She opened the first email and immediately felt her world tilt:
> Subject: Urgent Clarification Needed
To: Bella Bluefield
Bella,
We're in damage control mode. Something was leaked to the press overnight. Please report to the 20th-floor executive conference room immediately.
—Clara Fontaine
Her blood went ice-cold. With trembling fingers, she opened the attached file.
And saw it.
A screenshot from a security camera.
Her.
Xavier.
In his office.
Late. Alone.
His hand brushing hers.
Her face—unguarded, soft.
His—focused. Devoted.
The caption from the anonymous social account that posted it read:
> "When sleeping your way up becomes a business strategy: Welcome to LV Groups."
#ScandalInParis #XavierLouis #BellaBluefield
Bella's knees almost gave out.
They hadn't even touched beyond a glance. A conversation. An almost.
But the image said more than a thousand words.
And now, the whole world had seen it.
---
When Bella arrived on the 20th floor, Xavier was already in the glass conference room.
So was Clara.
And DuPont.
And PR.
And legal.
The room was dead silent when she walked in—except for the hum of the projector screen displaying the screenshot and a flurry of tweets flooding underneath it in real time.
She sank into the chair across from Xavier, who looked like he hadn't slept either.
His jaw was set. His eyes were fire.
"This is war," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.
Clara took over the room. "We have a crisis. Someone leaked internal footage that should never have been accessed."
DuPont nodded. "We've isolated the leak to a drive that was cloned. Someone inside the company is working against us."
Bella stayed quiet.
The shame was screaming too loud inside her.
Clara's eyes narrowed. "Camille's office is being scanned. IT is running background pings now."
"And what about the legal impact?" Xavier asked, arms crossed.
PR cleared her throat. "If this gains traction, we could be facing a shareholder inquiry. Public confidence could tank, especially since the merger with Valesco is about to be announced."
Bella felt physically ill.
This wasn't just gossip anymore.
It was sabotage. Strategic. Ruthless.
And aimed directly at her.
---
Hours passed in a blur of statements, damage control strategies, and whispered conference calls.
Bella wasn't allowed to speak publicly. Not yet.
Xavier released a brief statement denying any "improper internal relations," which only fueled speculation further.
By midday, tabloids were calling her "the seductress intern."
She wanted to scream.
Or disappear.
---
Later that evening, Clara pulled her into her office and closed the door.
"You're not going to like this," she said bluntly. "But I need to pull you from the Milan collaboration. At least for now."
Bella opened her mouth. "But that's my work. My designs."
"I know," Clara said. "But this isn't about merit anymore. It's about optics. You're too radioactive right now."
Bella's heart cracked. "So I'm being punished. Again."
"You're being protected," Clara said. "I'm keeping you close. I'm not letting them push you out."
Bella slumped into the chair, numb.
"How did this happen?" she whispered.
Clara hesitated.
Then said carefully, "Camille isn't working alone. We think there's someone feeding her intel from the inside. Someone high enough to access restricted footage."
Bella looked up sharply. "Who?"
"We don't know yet," Clara said. "But we will."
---
That night, Bella sat on her couch staring at the ceiling, her apartment dimly lit, phone silent. No one from the office had called since noon. Not even Xavier.
She should feel relieved.
Instead, she felt invisible.
The ding of her doorbell made her flinch.
She wasn't expecting anyone.
Her phone buzzed at the same time with a text:
> Xavier:
Check the hallway. I left something for you.
Bella got up, padded to the door, and opened it slowly.
There was no one there.
Just a small black envelope on the ground.
Inside it—a USB stick.
And a note in Xavier's handwriting:
> Proof. Use it wisely. Don't trust anyone who smiles too easily.
---
Back inside, Bella plugged the USB into her laptop.
There were two files.
One: a screen recording of Camille logging into an unauthorized server using DuPont's admin credentials.
Two: an audio clip. Muffled at first. But then:
> Camille's voice:
"We leak just enough to bury her. Not him. Not yet. She's the weakness. He'll break eventually."
Bella sat there, stunned.
DuPont. The man in charge of the internal review.
He wasn't just complicit. He was the enabler.
And Camille? She had planned this from the beginning.
A takedown from the inside.
Bella's hands trembled, not with fear now—but rage.
She copied the files, then deleted them from the stick.
She'd spent weeks trying to stay clean. To follow the rules. To protect her name.
But now?
Now she knew the truth.
They wanted war.
She would give them one.