It started with a single headline.
"Billionaire Damian Blackwood Seen with Mysterious Woman at Midnight, Secret Wife?"
Elena nearly choked on her coffee when she saw the tabloid. There, front and center, was a slightly grainy but unmistakable photo: her and Damian entering the Celestine Hotel. She remembered the moment, how Damian had placed a hand on her lower back, how they'd walked through the lobby like they owned the world.
Apparently, the world had noticed.
The blogs exploded. Twitter buzzed. Anonymous insiders claimed the woman had "been seen with Damian several times." Others swore she was a social climber, a PR strategist, a nobody.
Damian hadn't commented. Not publicly. Not privately.
Elena kept her head down at work, pretending to focus while every department at Blackwood Corp buzzed with speculation. Whispers followed her in the hallway. Executives looked twice. Assistants gossiped.
But she didn't flinch.
She'd expected this.
What she hadn't expected, was Ava.
Ava sat in the back of a sleek café with a smirk on her red lips and malice in her eyes. Across from her was a well-known tabloid reporter, one who specialized in scandal, especially involving the rich and powerful.
"I think the world deserves to know the truth," Ava said smoothly, sliding a manila envelope across the table.
Inside was a clearer, close-up photo.
Damian's hand gripping Elena's waist.
The time stamp.
The hotel name.
The implication.
"You're saying she's… married to him?" the reporter asked, his eyes gleaming with interest.
"I'm saying," Ava replied, "that Elena Hale isn't who she pretends to be."