Brooklyn Decker Leaked 소설 & 이야기

Somehow, in his eyes, that had become proof that I had been leaking corporate secrets. As the accusations flooded the group chat like endless waves, I spoke up once more. "For the very, very last time, I did not leak corporate secrets!" Samuel immediately tagged me in the chat and dropped a screenshot, showing the pricing for a new product launch from Declan's company. "Holy crap. Am I seeing this right? Their product is the same type as ours, and their price is only a cent lower than ours!" I froze instantly. I stared at the screenshot he posted over and over again, checking every detail carefully.

**Chapter 103: Exposed** The video was everywhere. By morning, every major news outlet, gossip site, and social media platform had clipped, slowed down, or looped the most damning segments. My voice—breathy, broken, crying out “Daddy, please”—played on repeat. The sound of leather striking skin. The wet, obscene rhythm of Damien fucking me from behind. My tear-streaked face twisted in pleasure and surrender. #VossBDSM leaked. #DaddysGoodGirl trended worldwide. Memes. Reaction videos. Late-night hosts making jokes. Religious groups calling for my children to be taken away. Feminist commentators debating whether I was empowered or brainwashed.

Black, who shook his head while looking at me. “I thought you were on our side Scarlett. How did the files about the designs we would be taking to the fashion Queen event get leaked?" he asked and I couldn't believe my ears. “Leaked? That's impossible sir only you and I have those documents how—” "That's what I'm trying to say to Scarlett. Since I didn't share it with anyone, only you could have. Do you know how much you've put on the line?" "No, Sir, there must be a misunderstanding. I would never do such a thing. I didn't share the files with anyone I—”

But the ache in my chest called me a liar. My phone buzzed in my apron, snapping me out of it. A text from Jake: Check TMZ. You’re fucking famous. My stomach plummeted. I slipped into the break room, hands trembling as I pulled up the app. The headline hit like a punch: Mystery Billionaire Drops $100K on Necklace at Greenwich Charity Auction—Who’s His New Flame? The article was pure TMZ gossip: “Last night at the swanky Greenwich Country Club, tech billionaire Justin Drake made waves with a $100,000 bid on a sapphire necklace for a mystery woman in an emerald gown. Insiders caught him getting cozy with her on the balcony, but who’s she? A new lover or just a passing spark? Stay tuned!”

She had been in there for thirty minutes and knew she would be coming out any moment. ‘I’m gonna come over,’ Hunter texted again, causing her phone to vibrate in her palms. ‘Don’t.’ Brooklyn texted back quickly. Lacy finally stepped out of the closet and Brooklyn stuffed her phone under her thigh. Lacy was dressed in a sleek pink and gray dress that covered her modestly. It was almost comical to see the drastic difference between ‘grown-up Lacy’ and ‘regular Lacy’. “Thanks again, Brooke. I owe you one. Vince should be here any moment to pick me up.”

But the moment she spoke, I knew something was wrong. “Ma’am—” Her voice was shaky, breathless. “There’s a problem. A big problem.” I sat up slowly, the sleepiness leaving my body in an instant. “What kind of problem?” I asked, my tone sharpening. “It’s the designs,” she said quickly. “The premium drafts you made yesterday… they’ve been leaked.” For a second, I thought I heard her wrong. “…What?” “They’re online,” she continued, her voice rising with panic. “Some influencers posted them this morning.”

The moment it opened, I gasped and my world tilted. I hurried opened my browser and inputted the name of my collection. It was there. There was my designs. Every sketch, every concept, and it has been posted online before my exhibit. Someone had stolen my designs. My hands trembled as I stared at my phone screen. The headline glared back at me: "RISING DESIGNER KATE BEAUMONT'S ENTIRE COLLECTION LEAKED HOURS BEFORE HER WEDDING TO THE DELACROIX HEIR."

I add. "Someone who wanted to sell you before you knew you were for sale," Sylvia says. She looks at us steadily. "I did not engage with Garrick. I want you to know that. Whatever he is doing is not something I want to be part of." She pauses. "But I want to cover your launch. Properly. First access, your story in your words, published the week you open doors." I look at Priya. She looks back. This woman who sent a leaked deck back across the table covered in red annotations instead of using it as someone else intended is either the most useful person we have met this week or the most sophisticated one.

Then — Is that what you want? I didn’t hesitate. Yes. Three dots. A pause that lasted long enough that I felt it. Then her reply came through. Not words. A screenshot. My message to her from the very first night — Wear something decent to breakfast. I won’t tell you twice. And underneath it, in her words — Look how far we’ve come. I was still looking at it when my office line rang. My lawyer. “Caden.” His voice had the specific tension of bad news requiring immediate handling. “The folder. We submitted it to the board last night as planned.” A pause. “Someone leaked it. It’s in the Financial Times. Romano’s 2019 transaction is public.”

When she saw me, she blurted out: "Aren't you supposed to be dead?" The microphone was still at her lips. If I hadn't used so many eye drops, I might have burst out laughing. Anthony immediately stepped in to salvage the situation. I had to admit, as the CEO of Leedon Group, he had some skills. The gala continued, but online discussions and livestream comments were in chaos. [Genius designer Runa accused of plagiarism] [Leedon Group fashion designs stolen] [Emerging designer Alice takes center stage] [Runa Larson scandal]