All Chapters of One Night with My Ex's Billionaire Best Friend: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The coffee shop is neutral territory. Not my choice. Not Lucian's. Somewhere in between.I'm meeting someone I never thought I'd see again. Someone I never thought I'd want to see again.Catherine Miller. Lucian's ex.She reaches out two days after Vaughn's motion hits the news. Email. Simple. Direct.**I can help. I know things about Vaughn. Things that might matter. Can we talk?**Lucian didn't want me to come. "She's manipulative. Self-serving. Whatever she knows, she'll use as leverage. To get something. To gain advantage. Don't trust her."But something about the email felt different. Honest. Urgent. Real.So here I am. Waiting. Wondering if I'm being stupid. Naive. Played.Catherine arrives exactly on time. She looks different. Less polished. More tired. Real."Thank you for meeting me. I wasn't sure you would.""I almost didn't. Lucian thinks this is a setup.""It's not. I promise. I genuinely want to help. If you'll let me.""Why? What do you get out of it?"She orders coffee.

I don’t tell Lucian what I’m planning. Not yet. He’d try to stop me. Or insist on helping. Or take over completely.This needs to be mine. My move. My proof.After the Wall Street Journal interview, I call Sophia. Not at the office. Private line. Personal cell.“I need your help. Something I can’t tell Lucian or Marcus about. Not yet.”“I’m listening.”“I want to take on a client. Solo. Without Lucian’s involvement. Without his network. Without his money. Prove I can land business based purely on my expertise. My story. My value.”Silence. Then, “That’s risky. What if you fail? What if the client says no? It proves the article right. That you need Lucian.”“Then I fail. And I learn. And I try again. But I have to try. Have to prove to myself, if no one else, that I’m qualified. That I earned this.”“Okay. What’s your plan?”“You mentioned companies reaching out. Three inquiries Marcus referred away because we weren’t positioned for crisis work yet. Do you still have those contacts?”“

After Lucian leaves, I sit at the table. Numb. Broken. Lost.Evelyn returns. Without Emma. Without Mrs. Caldwell. Just her.She sits across from me. Silent. Studying.Finally she speaks. “That was painful to watch.”“I ruined everything. I thought I was proving myself. Instead I destroyed our partnership.”“You made a mistake. A significant one. But not irreparable.”“He left. Went to his old penthouse. He’s never done that before. Never walked away from a fight.”“He’s hurt. Deeply. You excluded him. That’s his greatest fear. Being shut out by people he loves.”“I didn’t mean to hurt him.”“Intention doesn’t erase impact. You hurt him. Whether you meant to or not.”I expect judgment. Criticism. Cold Evelyn disapproval.Instead, she pours tea. Sits back. Considers.“Can I tell you something? About Lucian? About why this hurt him so much?”“Please.”“When Lucian was twelve, his father died. Suddenly. Heart attack. No warning. One day he was here. Next day gone. And I, I shut down. Comp

Camille Brooks. The investigative journalist who first broke the scandal story about me and Lucian. The one who wrote the exposé that went viral. The one who made our private relationship public spectacle.She calls my office directly. Bypasses Marcus. Bypasses Sophia. Gets my personal line somehow.“Ariana Vale. This is Camille Brooks. We need to talk.”“I have nothing to say to you. You destroyed my reputation for clicks.”“And now I can restore it. For a price.”I should hang up. Should end this immediately. Should tell her to go to hell.But something in her voice. Desperation. Greed. Opportunity.“I’m listening.”“I have new information. About Vaughn. About who really funded the attacks against you. About the coordinated conspiracy. Information that would completely exonerate you. Prove you were the victim, not the villain.”“Why would you help me? You made your career destroying me.”“Because I made a mistake. I was fed information. By Vaughn’s people. By sources I thought were

Forty-eight hours later, we stand in front of fifty journalists. Conference room at the Plaza Hotel. Cameras everywhere. Microphones ready. Questions waiting.Me. Lucian. Julian. Rebecca. Marcus.Presenting our evidence. Our proof. Our vindication.Julian goes first. Calm. Professional. Devastating.“Good morning. Thank you for coming. We’ve called this press conference to present evidence of a coordinated criminal conspiracy orchestrated by Richard Vaughn. Over eighteen months, Mr. Vaughn paid twelve journalists across eight publications a total of four hundred thousand dollars to write negative stories about Ariana Vale and Lucian Blackwood. He also funded three PR firms to amplify these stories on social media and create false narratives. All of this is documented. Verified. Prosecutable.”He clicks a remote. A screen behind us lights up. Documents. Emails. Financial transfers. Everything.“These are payment records. From shell companies controlled by Richard Vaughn to journalists