Elena Harper gripped the dossier like it was a lifeline, her knuckles whitening as the private elevator hummed upward toward Julian Reyes' penthouse. Beside her, Mia scrolled through the latest netizen outrage on her tablet, eyes narrowing at the screen's glow.
"Reyes audio is legit—he's unhinged! #CancelHimNow"
"Deepfake city. Who's paying for this smear? #JusticeForJulian"
"New pic dropped. Hotel rage? He's trash."
"Optics are brutal," Mia muttered, voice low. "But that timestamp? Rookie mistake."
Elena's mind churned, dissecting angles like a chessboard. Everything about this leak screamed orchestration—too perfect, too vicious. Her fingers itched with old memories: a client years ago who'd lied through gritted teeth, nearly destroying her career. No repeats. Today, she'd either crack Reyes open or walk away.
The elevator doors parted. Ethan Black—Julian's brother and manager—stood waiting, worry carved into his sharp features. "Harper. Inside. Quick."
The penthouse spread out before her like a sleek, modern fortress: rain-smeared windows, minimalist steel and leather, shadows curling in the corners. Julian was at the bar, pouring coffee with a precision that made the liquid tremble slightly. No red-carpet polish—rumpled shirt, stubble shadowing his jaw—but even that rawness had a presence. He turned, eyes locking on hers, assessing rather than seductive.
"Elena Harper," he said, voice low, rough-edged. He extended a mug. "Fuel up. It's going to get messy."
"Pass," she said, dropping her bag on the table. Mia unpacked the gear with practiced speed. "Devices. Now. Phones, laptops, clouds. Or we're done before we start."
Ethan slid his over first. Julian hesitated, then tossed his phone toward her. "Inner circle only sees this. Hope you earn it."
The air between Elena and Julian was taut, frost biting at the edges. She synced the drive, scrolling through deleted texts. Flirty strings to "S.V.": Missed you last night. Drinks soon? Heart emojis. A strange weight pressed against her chest. "Explain."
Julian leaned in, the scent of cedar and stress encroaching on her space. "Work chat. Co-star setup."
"Bull," Elena shot back, shoving the tablet toward him. "Timing matches the breakup. Cheating proof? This why the leaks?"
For a heartbeat, his eyes flickered—hurt slicing through the usual armor. "S.V.? Sophia's sister. Family dinners. Nothing else. You barge in and judge like the rest?"
Mia cleared her throat, hesitating. "Boss… check metadata—"
Elena's glare cut her off. "Lawyers don't assume. Liars do. Fork over proof, or I bill the agency for fantasy hour." She rose, grabbing her bag, ready to storm out. Heart thundering—not just from anger, but from the way proximity buzzed in her veins.
Julian moved, blocking the doorframe. His hand brushed hers as he leaned closer, inches apart, and heat sparked in that small space between them. "Wait. Damn it, Harper—it's not what you think—"
Ethan's phone pinged. All screens lit: a new leak. A blurry video of Julian storming from a hotel, fist raised at a shadowed figure. Netizens exploded:
"Video proof! #ReyesMonster"
"Chop it up? Fandom delusion."
"Who's the woman? Victim 2?"
"Fake," Ethan growled. "Deepfake markers."
Julian's gaze locked onto Elena's, raw plea behind the fire. "See? Scripted. Someone close."
She brushed past him, shoulder grazing his chest—an electric shock that left her stomach twisting. "Close like family? Save it."
---
Vic Lang's Shadow
Across the city, Vic Lang watched the feeds in his smoke-hazed office. Screens flickered with the penthouse lobby, hacked courtesy of a bribed assistant. Old grudges festered: years ago, Julian had stolen Vic's prime role, leaving him with nothing but sour taste and failed indie bets. Now? Payback.
"Harper's in," he murmured, tapping the burner phone. "Leaked the texts. She bit."
The raspy voice on the other line agreed. "Video landed. Phase two?"
Vic smirked, queuing the next file: Elena's sealed case from five years ago, a skeleton from a past meant to stay buried. "Make the lawyer bleed. Reyes folds when she's exposed."
He hit send. Perfect chaos.
---
Back in the penthouse, silence shattered. Julian's landline rang—unknown. He answered on speaker, a distorted voice slithering through:
"Dig too deep, Harper. Your old Dalton case? Buried skeletons surface next. Back off."
Elena's blood ran cold. Dalton—the client who'd framed her for tampering, nearly ending her career. Sealed. Private.
Mia gasped. Ethan cursed under his breath. Julian's eyes widened on her. "They know you?"
Elena snatched her tablet, fingers flying. "Truce. Full access—yours and mine. Hunt this bastard together."
He nodded, tension shifting, a fragile alliance forming. Their hands brushed as she passed the drive; warmth lingered long after contact.
The elevator doors closed, trapping them alone. Paparazzi swarmed below, flashes piercing the rain. The headline scrolled live on Mia's screen: "Lawyer's Steamy Exit with Scandal Star—Trouble Brewing?"
Julian's gaze burned into hers. "One chance, Elena. Don't make me regret it."
Her pulse raced. The game's rules? Rewritten.
But whose hand held the board?
---