Chapter 68

Vanessa’s POV

I should have known that answering Elizabeth’s message would drag me back into the very world I’d promised myself I would never return to. Yet here I am, sitting across from her in a discreet corner of a rooftop café, the evening breeze brushing against my skin while the bitterness brewing inside me grows stronger than the coffee cooling in front of me.

Elizabeth looks exactly how I imagined Damien’s overworked personal assistant would look—sharp edges wrapped in an elegant dress, eyes that have seen too much, and a mouth pressed tightly as though every word she says is weighed and calculated.

“I’m glad you came,” she says, her fingers tapping nervously against the table. “We don’t have much time.”

I raise a brow. “You sounded desperate. That’s the only reason I showed up.”

Her lips curl into something that should be a smile but isn’t. “Desperate is a small word, Vanessa. Damien is… slipping.” She pauses. “And it’s all because of Ava.”

The name tastes sour on my tongue even before I speak. “So it’s true. He’s really… entertaining her?”

Entertaining. What a polite word for the chaos churning inside me.

Elizabeth leans forward. “She’s everywhere. In his office. In the mansion. In his head.” Her tone sharpens. “I’ve worked with Damien for six years. I’ve been by his side through everything—including the accident. But since that girl walked in, he doesn’t even look at me.”

There it is—the sting of wounded pride. Something I know too well.

“So why tell me this?” I ask. “What do you want from me?”

Her eyes glint with something dangerous. “I want an ally. Someone with influence. Someone he used to care about.”

My chest tightens. Used to. Those words burn more than they should. I mask the reaction with a controlled breath.

“Spit it out, Elizabeth. What exactly are you offering?”

She reaches into her sleek black folder and slides a set of papers toward me. “Ava’s contract.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “You got this?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised what I can get.” Her voice drips with smugness. “This is everything Damien signed regarding her employment. Clauses, restrictions, penalties. Every little detail.”

I skim the pages, and my smirk forms slowly. Ava is bound tightly—so tightly she probably doesn’t even know she’s trapped. Damien always did love structure, rules, and ownership masked as generosity.

“And this helps us?” I ask, even though the gears in my mind are already turning.

“Ava signed this blindly,” Elizabeth continues. “She didn’t read it. No lawyer. No negotiation. If the media got a hold of certain parts…” She lets the sentence hang in the air.

“Damien would look bad,” I finished.

“No.” Her eyes narrow. “Ava would look worse.”

I flip another page. “She’s financially desperate, isn’t she?”

“She was—before Damien. I did a full background check.” Elizabeth doesn’t even flinch. “Her mother is sick. Medical bills. A run-down apartment. Two jobs before this one. Nothing about her life says she belongs anywhere near Damien.”

Ah, there it is—the root of Elizabeth’s disdain. To her, Ava is a contaminant. An intruder.

“And Damien?” I ask quietly. “How is he behaving around her?”

Elizabeth’s jaw clenches. “He’s softer. He listens to her. He defends her. Yesterday he raised his voice at me over something she said.” Her voice breaks slightly. “He has never—ever—done that before.”

A slow satisfaction hums through me. Damien, snapping at his most loyal employee… for a girl like Ava? Ridiculous.

“So you want to push her out,” I say, setting the papers down. “Completely.”

“Permanently.” Elizabeth’s gaze pierces mine. “And I can’t do it alone.”

I sit back, crossing my legs. “You do realize the media still watches everything I do. If my name is attached to anything concerning Damien—”

“It won’t be,” she interjects. “I have contacts. Anonymous sources. We can leak a story from multiple directions, making it impossible to trace.”

I tap a finger against my glass. “What kind of story?”

Her smile this time is real—and wicked. “One that paints Ava exactly as she looks: a manipulative opportunist who wormed her way into Damien’s vulnerable state for money, influence, or proximity to the billionaire lifestyle.”

My pulse kicks up. “That’s harsh, even for you.”

“She’s harsh on me every day she stays in that house,” Elizabeth bites out. “I refuse to watch him spiral because of some charity case.”

“And Damien?” I press. “How do you think he’ll react when the story spreads?”

Elizabeth shrugs. “At worst, he’ll confront her. He’ll question her loyalty. Doubt will crack the bond. Every relationship breaks when trust is tampered with.”

I stare at her. She’s right. And part of me hates how much I enjoy hearing it.

“He trusts her more than he should,” Elizabeth continues. “But trust is fragile. I’ve seen men like Damien turn on people for less.”

I twirl my straw slowly. “What do you need from me?”

“Your voice,” she says. “Your reputation. Your history with him. If you give a subtle hint to a journalist—a vague comment about being concerned for Damien, or that Ava seemed… strategic—it will spread like wildfire. People believe stories more when they come from someone who was once close.”

I hesitate.

I remember the accident—the one that shattered everything. The guilt flooded me back then, but the moment I learned he’d never walk again, something inside me recoiled. I couldn’t picture myself pushing a wheelchair, assisting him, adjusting our once–glamorous lifestyle to accommodate his new reality.

I walked away.

And he moved on—apparently with someone like Ava.

That knowledge burns.

“Vanessa,” Elizabeth says softly, “I know you still care. You may not want him back, but surely you don’t want him with… her.”

I swallow hard. “Fine. I’ll help. But only if the plan is clean and untraceable. I won’t risk my image.”

She nods eagerly. “I’ll handle everything. You’ll just plant a seed. A sentence. A suggestion.”

I exhale, feeling the weight of the decision settle over me. “What exactly do you expect me to tell the media?”

“That Ava’s presence in Damien’s house is… questionable,” Elizabeth replies smoothly. “That you worry she may be manipulating his vulnerability. That her background doesn’t align with his world. Something subtle, but damaging.”

I close my eyes for a moment, letting the last piece of conscience crumble.

“When do we start?”

Elizabeth smiles darkly. “Tonight. I’ve drafted the narrative already. The journalists are hungry for anything involving Damien. One whisper from you—and the story explodes.”

My heart beats faster—not with fear, but with the intoxicating thrill of control.

Ava doesn’t know what’s coming.

Poor girl. She stepped into a world she wasn’t prepared for.

And now?

We’re going to shove her right back out.