All Chapters of Chaos in Heels: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

"Wonderful," Mr. Sandersen beamed. "Now, about the logistics of getting our products to remote locations..."As the meeting continued, Deja tried to focus, but her mind kept circling back to one horrifying reality: she was going to spend a weekend at a beach house with her family, her fake fiancé who made her feel disturbingly real things, and a bunch of strangers who expected her to be some kind of marketing genius.She broke off a piece of the muffin and popped it into her mouth. Perfect. Just the right amount of sweetness and tartness. How did he know her favorite was chocolate? Well I mean most people love chocolate."Deja?"She snapped to attention so hard her neck cracked.Her father raised an eyebrow. "Any thoughts on the target demographic analysis?"Everyone turned to look at her, which was rude. Extremely disrespectful. And unnecessary."Absolutely," she said, voice calm, smooth, and dripping with executive gravitas. "While traditional analysis boxes consumers by age and inc

An hour later, Deja made her grand entrance into the main living area, where the Sandersen team was already mingling with her family. Her outfit was exactly as planned, with the addition of chunky platform sandals and about fifteen bangle bracelets that clinked with every movement.Trevor, mid-conversation with an older man in eco-friendly linen, caught sight of her and choked on his drink."Deja," her mother said with a tight smile. "You look... bright.""Thanks!" Deja said cheerfully. "I was going for 'visual warning sign.' You know, in case Dominique's allergic to bad decisions and glitter."She sauntered over to the bar setup, poured herself a generous margarita, and surveyed the room. About a dozen people from Sandersen Beach Products were scattered around, all wearing variations of expensive casual wear in earth tones. They looked like a Patagonia catalog come to life."Miss. Moreau," said a woman with a severe gray bob, approaching her. "I'm Dr. Finch, head of product developme

As Deja arranged her truffles, she spotted Dominique entering the event space, looking impeccable in a white pantsuit that probably cost more than most people’s monthly rent. Their eyes met briefly before Dominique’s lips curved into a calculating smile. She made her way toward Deja with determined steps.“Well, well,” Dominique purred, eyeing the truffles. “Playing chef now? How... domestic of you.”“I contain multitudes,” she said sweetly. “Crisis management, sarcasm, felony-level frosting skills—you know, the usual.”“Ren personally invited me after our delightful conversations during the beach weekend.” Dominique said, her smile not reaching her eyes.Before Deja could respond, Dominique leaned in and pretended to straighten Deja’s collar. In the process, she slipped something into the small clutch purse hanging from Deja’s wrist.“For luck,” Dominique whispered with a wink before gliding away to greet other guests.A flash drive.Not a lipstick. Not a Tic Tac. A whole damn USB. W

The next morning, the Moreau dining table looked less like a place for breakfast and more like the war room from Scandal. Laptop cords tangled like spaghetti, coffee cups balanced precariously next to evidence piles (a.k.a. pink Post-it notes with “GUILTY AF” scrawled in glitter pen), and Deja—still in her robe and one sock—was vibrating with the kind of manic energy usually reserved for startup founders and people who live in haunted houses.“FOUND SOMETHING!” Nico yelped, nearly knocking over his cold brew. “Damnn, Dominique is either incredibly devious or incredibly stupid.”“Why not both?” Trevor suggested, abandoning his spreadsheets to peer over Nico’s shoulder.“What?” Deja demanded, scrambling off the bed to join them. “What did you find?”Nico turned his laptop screen toward her. “The files on this flash drive? They’re all dated from three days after you supposedly signed off on them. And get this—they were all created on Dominique’s personal laptop. The device identifier is

Deja stumbled through the front door of the Moreau mansion, her body running purely on leftover adrenaline from the board meeting showdown. The house was mercifully empty—her family had gone to celebrate their victory with champagne brunch, but Deja had begged off, claiming exhaustion. In reality, her mind was churning with too many thoughts to process, most of them revolving around a certain frustrating fiancé.“I need a nap, a drink, or to be launched into the sun,” she muttered, kicking off her heels with the grace of a hungover velociraptor. One shoe slammed into a wall and the other pinged off a marble column.A tiny, stupidly expensive vase teetered on its pedestal like it was considering ending it all. Deja paused and whispered, “Same, bestie,” as it miraculously settled back in place.Her bedroom—or rather, Original Deja’s bedroom—was a sanctuary of silk and luxury that she had gradually started to think of as her own. Deja face-planted onto the plush comforter, letting out a