Chapter 5: The Evidence

Damian drove straight to his office and locked the door. He opened his safe and pulled out the file he had been building for two days.

It wasn't much. A handful of emails. A bank transfer with Elena's name on it. A photograph of her meeting Marcus in a restaurant three years ago—before she had ever "accidentally" run into Damian at a charity event.

He laid it all out on his desk. Three years of his life, reduced to a stack of papers.

He called Clara. She answered on the second ring.

"I have it. Emails. Transfers. Photos. I can send it now."

"Send it."

"I'd rather bring it in person."

"No." Her voice was sharp. "Send it. I'll review it with my team. If it's real, I'll call you."

He wanted to argue. But he had learned one thing in two days: Clara didn't respond to what he wanted anymore.

"Fine. Check your email."

He hung up, scanned every page, and sent it. Then he sat and waited.

Clara read the file twice. The first time alone. The second time with Mira and two lawyers in the conference room.

The emails were damning. Marcus instructing Elena to "get close to Blackwood" and "report on his business dealings." Wire transfers—small enough to avoid attention, large enough to keep her loyal. A photograph dated two weeks before Elena first appeared at a Blackwood Industries gala.

"It's real," Mira said. "I checked the metadata. Three years old."

Clara leaned back. She had spent three years hating Elena. Picturing her as the woman Damian chose. And now Elena was just a pawn in Marcus's game?

"Check Elena's accounts," Clara said. "If Marcus was paying her, there'll be a pattern. Monthly payments. Bonuses at milestones."

"And if we find it?"

"Then Damian was telling the truth."

The lawyers exchanged glances. "What does that change?"

Clara didn't answer. She stood and walked to the window. Somewhere out there, Damian was waiting for her to call.

She wasn't ready. Not yet.

"Find the payments," she said. "Call me when you have proof."

Damian's phone rang at midnight. He grabbed it without checking the caller ID.

"Clara?"

"It's Marcus."

Damian sat up. "How did you get this number?"

"I've had it for years. You're not as careful as you think." Marcus's voice was smooth. "I heard about your wife. Impressive, what she's doing. Buying your debt. Cutting off your suppliers. She's better at this than you ever were."

"What do you want?"

"To make you an offer. I'll buy the debt from Sterling Group. Take it off your hands. In exchange, you give me the evidence you've been gathering. All of it."

Damian's grip tightened. "You think I'd make a deal with you?"

"I think you're desperate. I think you're going to lose everything." Marcus paused. "Come work for me. I'll take care of the debt. You keep your house, your reputation. All you have to do is give me the file."

"And Elena?"

"She's been reassigned. She was never the point. You were."

Damian closed his eyes. Three years believing Elena loved him. Three years destroying his marriage for a woman who had been paid to pretend.

"Why would you help me?" he asked.

"Because Clara Sterling is a bigger threat than you ever were. She's buying up my debt too. Three of my suppliers have jumped ship. She's coming for me, and I need to know what she's planning."

Damian opened his eyes. "You're scared of her."

"I'm cautious. There's a difference."

"There's no difference." Damian smiled—the first time in days. "And you should be."

He hung up. The phone rang again. Marcus. Damian let it ring, then turned the phone off.

The next morning, Clara called.

"Your evidence is real. Elena was Marcus's operative. I found six years of payments."

Damian exhaled. He hadn't realized he had been holding his breath.

"Marcus called me last night. Offered to buy the debt in exchange for the file."

Clara was quiet. "What did you say?"

"I hung up on him."

"That was either very smart or very stupid."

"I'm not doing business with Marcus. Not now. Not ever."

Silence. He could hear her keyboard in the background. Always working.

"The debt is still due in ninety days," she said. "This doesn't change that."

"I know."

"But it changes some things."

"What things?"

"I'm not letting Marcus win. If he's coming for both of us, we have a common enemy. That doesn't mean I trust you. It doesn't mean I've forgiven you. But I'm willing to work with you. Temporarily."

Damian's heart pounded. "What do you need?"

"A meeting. Tomorrow. My office. We'll discuss terms."

"I'll be there."

"And Damian? Don't be late."

She hung up. Damian sat in his office, the file spread across his desk, and for the first time in three days, he felt something other than dread.

Hope. Small and fragile and terrifying.