Chapter 7: Emily's Manipulation

Emily watched the numbers climb on her phone screen. Likes. Shares. Comments. Each one was another nail in Eve’s coffin.

The jerky handheld clips? Those had been hers—taken with a burner phone across the street, the night she followed me from my apartment. Watching had become a second skin, obsession feeding her patience until the perfect angle presented itself.

But the wide, damning footage from above? That was courtesy of another source. One of the security managers at Grayson Enterprises still remembered her, still looked at her with a mix of pity and nostalgia. All it had taken was a sigh, a lie whispered soft as silk—Gabriel asked me to help with something delicate—and the files had arrived in her inbox within the hour.

The brilliance of it made her hum under her breath as she closed her phone. No trail, no fingerprints. To the world, it was evidence. To Gabriel, it was plausible.

She slipped her phone into her bag, adjusted her blouse, and rose from the café chair. If Eve thought she had Gabriel’s devotion back, she was about to learn how fragile devotion really was.

\---

The glass walls of Grayson Enterprises gleamed against the pale winter sky, cold and impenetrable. But Emily walked in like she owned them. She’d walked these halls before; she knew their rhythms, their shortcuts, the way whispers trailed after her heels.

The receptionist barely lifted her head before buzzing her through. The perks of a familiar name.

By the time she reached Gabriel’s office, she had already schooled her face into the perfect mask: worry tinged with loyalty, innocence painted with just a stroke of wounded pride.

The assistant frowned. “Mr. Grayson isn’t—”

Emily’s smile was razor-thin. “Tell him Emily’s here. He’ll want to see me.”

A pause. Then, reluctantly, the assistant stepped aside.

Inside, Gabriel stood by the window, phone in his hand, posture rigid. His shoulders were tense, as if the weight of the world pressed into his spine. When he turned, his eyes flickered at the sight of her. Recognition, yes—but layered with confusion.

Emily let silence hang, then softened her voice. “Gabriel. I came as soon as I saw it. I thought you’d need… someone to talk to.”

His expression hardened. “Emily.”

She walked closer, slow, measured steps, heels sinking into the plush carpet. “The video,” she murmured, threading just enough tremor through her voice. “It’s ugly. I didn’t want to believe it. Not about Eve.”

Gabriel’s jaw tightened.

Emily tilted her head, lowering her voice like she was offering a secret. “You don’t remember everything, I know. But I do. I remember how lonely you were. How often you doubted her. How many nights you wondered if she really loved you—or just the life you gave her.”

He flinched—barely, but enough.

Emily’s heart raced. Got you.

“I’m not here to come between you,” she whispered, letting her lashes lower. “I care about you. I just don’t want you hurt again. You don’t deserve that.”

He turned away, staring out at the skyline, phone gripped tight in his hand.

That was fine. He didn’t need to look at her yet. Not yet. She just needed the seed planted. Doubt watered.

Behind her, the office door swung open.

“Gabriel?”

I called.

Emily turned slowly, her lips curving into a satin smile.

Perfect timing.

“Gabriel?”

My voice was soft at first, tentative, as if I hadn’t expected the air inside his office to be so heavy. But the moment I stepped in and saw Emily standing near his desk, everything in me went cold.

The sight alone was enough to make my fingers curl into fists. Emily. Here. In his office.

For a moment, none of them spoke. The silence was thick, buzzing, broken only by the faint hum of the city outside the window.

Emily was the first to break it. She turned, smile practiced to perfection, syrup-sweet with just enough pity. “Eve. What a surprise.”

My eyes narrowed. “Surprise? What exactly are you doing here?”

Emily tilted her head, like a cat watching a cornered bird. “Checking on Gabriel, of course. After… everything.” My hand gestured vaguely toward the phone still clutched in Gabriel’s hand—the damning video paused mid-frame. “I thought he might need someone who understands.”

The implication was sharp enough to draw blood.

I stepped forward, my pulse hammering. “Someone who understands? Or someone who manufactured it?”

Emily’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes glinted. “Are you accusing me of something?”

“I’m not accusing,” I said, her voice steady though my insides trembled. “I’m stating the obvious.” I turned to Gabriel. “She did this. She’s been following me, watching me. You know it.”

Gabriel didn’t answer immediately. His silence felt like a canyon opening beneath my feet.

Emily’s laugh was soft, almost wounded. “Really, Eve? That’s what you’re going with? That I somehow bribed security guards, tracked you across town, hacked into cameras? All to… what? Make you look like you were sneaking around with another man?” She shook her head slowly, the picture of pained disbelief. “That’s… extreme.”

“It’s the truth,” I snapped.

Emily’s eyes slid toward Gabriel, as though sharing a private moment with him. “You see? Always so quick to turn everything back on me. Always the victim.”

The words burned. They weren’t just accusations; they were distortions, crafted like a blade and aimed with precision.

Gabriel’s expression was unreadable, his jaw locked tight, eyes flickering between the two women like he was standing at the edge of a battlefield, unsure which side was real.

I forced myself to breathe. I couldn’t lose control. Not here. Not in front of Emily.

I moved closer to Gabriel, my voice low but fierce. “You don’t know what she’s capable of. But I do. You have to trust me.”