Chapter 17 up
“If they can’t be brought down by force, then destroy their name.”
Selina’s voice was cold—almost calm. Too calm for a plan this dirty.
The man across the table narrowed his eyes. The private room behind the exclusive restaurant was wrapped in cigar smoke and dim amber light. No windows. No witnesses. Only people accustomed to operating in the gray zones of power.
“Whose name?” the man asked quietly.
Selina crossed her legs. Her black dress shimmered faintly as she leaned forward, her smile thin, nearly sweet.
“Vanesa Wibisana.”
One second passed.
Then another.
Several faces shifted.
“You do realize who you’re talking about,” someone finally said. “The Wibisana family isn’t a minor player.”
Selina let out a soft laugh—not nervous, but decisive.
“Exactly,” she replied. “The higher they stand, the more beautiful the fall.”
She slid a brown folder to the center of the table.
“Old financial records. Overseas projects. Vanesa’s social footprint before she returned to the family,” Selina continued evenly. “We don’t need the truth. We only need doubt.”
The man opened the folder, his eyes scanning quickly.
“You’re asking us to create a scandal.”
Selina shrugged. “I’m asking you to create a story.”
She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a near whisper.
“And stories don’t need to be real to be believed.”
Axel stood in the doorway of Selina’s study that night, unseen.
He had just returned from a long meeting. His head throbbed, his chest tight ever since he’d read the latest report on Wibisana Group’s expansion—led directly by Vanesa.
He raised his hand to knock.
Then froze.
“…make sure the leak can’t be traced back to us,” Selina said inside the room. “Let the media think it came from within Wibisana itself.”
Axel frowned.
“Isn’t that too risky?” another voice replied—male, unfamiliar.
“Risk is only for people afraid of losing,” Selina answered immediately. “I don’t plan to lose.”
Axel pushed the door open.
The conversation died instantly.
Several men stood up too fast. Their expressions stiffened, unfriendly.
Selina turned. Her smile appeared at once—too fast, too perfect.
“Axel,” she said lightly. “You’re done with your meeting?”
Axel’s eyes went to the table. The folders. The phones. Names he recognized—politicians, media owners, long-time rivals of Wibisana.
“What is this?” he asked quietly.
Selina rose and walked toward him. Her hand slipped around his arm, warm, familiar.
“Strategy,” she replied. “The kind of thing we used to do together.”
Axel gently pulled his arm away, his gaze never leaving the table.
“Strategy for what?”
Selina studied him. Her smile faded slightly. “For survival.”
Axel shook his head. “This isn’t survival. This is an attack.”
“In our world,” Selina said sharply, “those are the same thing.”
Her tone hardened. She wasn’t used to being questioned.
“Vanesa hasn’t done anything to you,” Axel continued. “Why her?”
Selina laughed softly this time—without warmth.
“Don’t be naïve,” she said. “She’s a symbol. And symbols must be destroyed before they become power.”
Axel fell silent.
Vanesa’s name hung in the air—heavy, unspoken.
“You’ve changed,” Axel said at last.
Selina’s eyes sharpened. “No. I just stopped pretending I was clean.”
That night, Axel sat alone in his car, the engine off, city lights reflecting across the windshield.
He thought of Vanesa.
The way she stood in the Wibisana boardroom—calm, unguarded, unaggressive. As if the world didn’t need to be conquered—only understood.
And now Selina wanted to tear her down with lies.
Axel pressed his fingers to his temples.
Once, he had admired Selina’s ambition.
Now, that ambition felt like a cliff edge.
Selina stood before the mirror in her apartment, staring at her own reflection.
Perfect hair. Flawless skin. Eyes burning with resolve.
“She thinks she’s already won just because she has a name,” Selina muttered.
She picked up her phone.
Dialed a number.
“Proceed with phase one,” she said curtly. “Leak a morality issue. Focus on image. Vanesa is too clean—that’s her weakness.”
She ended the call.
Her heart was racing—not with fear.
But anticipation.
The next morning, an anonymous article appeared on an international business gossip site.
“The Wibisana Heiress: Pure—or Carefully Purified?”
There were no direct accusations.
Only questions.
But questions were enough to plant seeds.
Axel read the article in his office.
His hand clenched into a fist.
He knew this pattern.
He knew exactly who was behind it.
For the first time, the world he had once accepted as normal made him feel sick.
He picked up his phone.
Typed Selina’s name.
Paused.
Deleted it.
Axel leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
“When did I start justifying this?” he whispered to himself.