Chapter Fifty-Nine: DONOVAN-SERRANO SCANDAL
Chapter Fifty-Nine: DONOVAN-SERRANO SCANDAL
ABEL DONOVAN
I drove toward my office with my heart thudding so loudly I could feel it in my throat. My mind raced through the same spiraling thoughts over and over again, like a record stuck on repeat.
Anna was innocent.
Which meant Selena Whitmore had lied. Which meant Flora knew. Flora knew her mother had lied, and they’d tried to set Anna up together.
But why?
Selena was Anna’s stepmother, and had raised her since she was a child. And Flora was her sister, however complicated that relationship might be. So why would they go to such lengths to frame her? What could they possibly gain from making Anna look like the villain?
Up until today, I’d been so certain Anna was the one pulling some elaborate revenge scheme. I’d convinced myself she’d pushed Selena, disrespected her, played the victim while actually being the aggressor. It had fit so neatly with what I already believed about her, that she was manipulative, calculating, capable of anything.
But hearing that Anna was innocent, that Selena and Flora had orchestrated the whole thing, had turned everything I thought I knew completely upside down.
I knew Flora was jealous. I’d seen it myself, the way she looked at Anna, the barely concealed resentment simmering beneath every forced smile. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d gotten into a physical fight eventually. Sisters fought. Stepsisters especially.
But Selena? Why would her own stepmother be involved in something so deliberately cruel? Was she just fighting for her daughter, protecting Flora’s interests? Or was there something else going on, something deeper I wasn’t seeing?
A throbbing headache pulsed behind my eyes. I pressed my fingers against my temples as I pulled into the parking garage and cut the engine.
I sat there for a moment, trying to collect myself, trying to think through what I’d set in motion.
By the end of today, the photos should be everywhere. The pictures of me entering Serrano Holdings, looking friendly and professional, should be circulating on social media by now. That had been the whole point, to change the narrative, to stop the vicious rumors about bad blood between the Donovans and Serranos from spiraling any further out of control.
A new story would emerge: Anna Serrano and Abel Donovan are on good terms. No drama. No rivalry. Just two business leaders who respect each other professionally.
That was my agenda when I’d brought those flowers and put on the charm this morning,though admittedly, the charm hadn’t lasted very long once I’d actually seen her. Still, the photos had been taken. The plan had worked. The media would back off, and both our companies could breathe a little easier.
But now, knowing I hadn’t given her those flowers for nothing, knowing she was actually innocent, that my apology had been justified, somehow made it all feel better. Less manipulative. More genuine.
The flowers and the time and effort hadn’t been wasted.
Actually, you didn’t put in that much effort, a voice in my head reminded me. But sure, whatever boosts your ego, Abel.
I grabbed my briefcase and stepped out of the car, making my way to the elevator. The lobby was bustling with the usual afternoon activity, employees rushing to meetings, phones ringing, the hum of productive chaos.
I nodded at the greetings thrown my way as I rode the elevator to the top floor, barely registering the faces. My mind was still too tangled up in everything else.
Once inside my office, I shrugged off my jacket and collapsed into my chair, letting my head fall back against the leather with a heavy sigh.
Whew.
I’d just survived the toughest part of the day. Or so I thought.
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Hours crawled by, and the man I’d been expecting still hadn’t shown up.
Marvin Price, the spy I had hired to investigate the matter. He promised me evidence. He’d said he had footage that proved Anna’s innocence. He was supposed to arrive immediately after I’d left Anna’s building. I’d been calling him for the past two hours, but every call went straight to voicemail, like his phone was turned off.
I drummed my fingers against my desk, frustration building with each passing minute.
Where the hell is he?
By the time eight o’clock rolled around, I was ready to throw my phone across the room. Instead, I opened social media, deciding to check whether the photos had done their job.
They had blown up, just as I’d planned.
The pictures of me at Serrano Holdings were everywhere, on Twitter, Instagram, entertainment news sites. The results were exactly what I’d hoped for. The masses were convinced we were on good terms. The vicious rumors were already fading, replaced by more positive speculation.
Bloggers were picking it up, spinning it in our favor, and I felt a small surge of satisfaction.
Good. This is working.
But then I kept scrolling.
And the narrative shifted.
It changed so suddenly, so completely, that I actually sat up straighter in my chair.
The headlines weren’t saying we were friends anymore.
They were saying we were dating.
“BUSINESS OR PLEASURE? Anna Serrano and Abel Donovan Spotted Together—Are They More Than Friends?”
“BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE: Sources Say Abel Donovan Is Courting Serrano Heiress”
“FROM RIVALS TO LOVERS? Inside the Secret Romance Between Two of the City’s Most Powerful CEOs”
“Abel Donovan Seen Bringing FLOWERS to Anna Serrano’s Office—What Does It Mean?”
I stared at my phone screen, my jaw tightening.
Damn.
This wasn’t what I’d planned. This wasn’t the narrative I’d been trying to create.
But… It wasn't necessarily bad either.
It would die down eventually. Rumors between high-profile people came and went all the time. This would blow over in a week, maybe two at most.
And in the meantime, it actually gave me an opportunity I hadn’t considered before.
I could use this to gauge Anna’s reaction. Would she quickly deny it, issue some cold, professional statement through her PR team? Would she act indifferent, like it was beneath her notice? Or would she react in some other way that might tell me something useful about what was really going on in that complicated head of hers?
With this unexpected turn, I was suddenly curious.
What will you do, Anna?