Betrayed by design

The sunlight through the tall windows should have been beautiful, and in her first week as Mrs. Blackwell, Sloane had believed it meant she was above all her problems. Well, that delusion lasted nine days.Now the sunlight showed the truth, making the space between her and Nathaniel feel like a barrier.She didn’t touch her yogurt, watching the granola turn soggy while her throat tightened with unspoken feelings.Nathaniel sat at the opposite end, scrolling through his tablet, engrossed in financial headlines with a focus he never gave her.The clink of her spoon against porcelain broke the silence.“The gala coverage was favorable,” he said without looking up. “Photo of us made the business section with ‘Power Couple’ as the title.” Her fingers tightened on the spoon, then she forced herself to relax and placed it down carefully.“Efficient,” she managed to say. “That’s what we needed.”He glanced at her, noting her blue dress, neat hair, and makeup—everything perfectly in place for

The sixty-eighth floor of Vance Industries felt empty after midnight, Sloane’s heels echoing on the concrete as she walked back from the kitchenette with cold coffee in her hand while her desk glowed alone in the darkness, covered in plans for the Tokyo flagship that she stayed late to perfect after Nathaniel casually said he liked the idea of blended aesthetics.The building was so quiet she could hear the servers humming three rooms away.Then she saw it, a thin gold line of light under his office door, sharp in the darkness. She paused, Nathaniel had said he was having dinner with the Zurich investors and would be at Le Grillon until at least eleven and then go straight home, but she had checked the time when her team left at 10:47 and now it was 12:23.His car was in the executive garage when she went down for her purse an hour ago, the black Bentley sitting in its reserved spot, still warm. She assumed he had taken a car service to dinner or that maintenance had moved it.But he

Sloane’s hands trembled as she locked the sitting room door behind her. The white camellias in the crystal vase looked like an accusation and dawn light slipped through the curtains leaving everything pale, she had only fifteen minutes before Damon brought the car around.Check the flowers, there’s something inside.She lifted the vase and tipped it over the sink as water and stems spilled out along with a small plastic-wrapped package, she stood still.It was matchbox-sized and sealed in waterproof film with a USB drive and a folded note inside, the message written in blocky anonymous capitals letters:YOU HAVE EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO DESTROY HIM BUT IF YOU USE IT, HE WILL KNOW AND THE BODYGUARD REPORTS DIRECTLY TO NATHANIEL. TRUST NO ONE.Her pulse roared in her ears as she unwrapped the drive and plugged it into her laptop, glancing at the locked door.The files opened showing financial records, emails and legal documents. Her name appeared again and again.Sloane Vance – Asset Liqu

Damon returned about twenty-four hours after he’d taken the photographs, he appeared at Sloane’s office door at 9:37 PM with his usual unreadable face.“Mrs. Blackwell.” He closed the door behind him, moved to her desk carefully. “I have information.”Sloane didn’t move right away. She remained composed, pretending to review a contract which she hadn’t read a word of it in an hour.“That was fast,” she said.Damon pulled out a slim envelope from inside his jacket and set it down on her desk, but hesitated for a moment.“The woman’s name,” he said, “is Lila Moreau.”Sloane stood still trying to understand Damon’s words but her brain refuse to process them.“What?” “Lila Moreau. Twenty-eight, Consultant for Vanguard Strategic—one of Mr. Blackwell’s subsidiaries. She’s been on payroll for six months.”“No.” Sloane reacted almost immediately, in denial. “That’s wrong.”Damon didn’t respond.“Lila doesn’t work for Nathaniel. She’s in marketing at Brennan & Associates. She—” Her voice stam

Sloane had been rehearsing the words all morning in front of the bathroom mirror, lips moving silently, discarding one word after the other. She wore cream silk robe Nathaniel had given her on their anniversary gift.She still wasn’t ready when she pushed open the door to the study. Nathaniel stood with his back to the door with one hand resting against the glass-fronted bookshelf, searching for a particular title. He didn’t turn when she entered even though the latch sounded a little too loud as the door clicked shut behind her. Sloane set the photographs on his desk one by one, laying them like evidence. Nathaniel turned, still dressed for the day in dark navy suit with his shirt opened at the collar. His eyes moved from her face to the desk, paused before looking at her again but didn’t flinch. “We need to talk,” she said. “We always need to talk.” He moved to the desk, picked up one photograph and studied it briefly.“Who took these?” he asked.“That’s your first question?”