Chapter 74
Lena's POV
The conference room felt smaller with all of us crammed in—Diana at the head of the table, Sophia with her laptop open, Rachel taking notes. I'd printed every piece of evidence Rowan had sent. Screenshots, payment records, email chains. They covered the table like evidence at a crime scene.
Which, legally speaking, it was.
"Sterling PR's offshore account received two payments," Sophia said, highlighting the transactions on her screen. "Fifty thousand in March. Another seventy-five thousand last week, right before the posts went live."
Diana leaned forward. "The second payment came from a shell company registered in the Caymans. But the beneficial owner—" She tapped the document. "—is listed as NK Consulting. Nora Kane's personal LLC."
I'd known. Had suspected since yesterday. But seeing it confirmed still sent a cold shock through my chest.
"So Kane orchestrated this," Rachel said. "Why?"
"Jealousy," Diana said bluntly. "Professional rivalry. Maybe she thinks removing Lena clears her path back to Reynolds."
I kept my face neutral. "Motive doesn't matter right now. What matters is we have proof of coordinated defamation funded by identifiable sources."
"We could sue both Sterling and Kane," Diana said. Her eyes had that gleam she got when she scented blood. "Civil suit for damages, request an injunction—"
"No."
She blinked. "Lena—"
"We go after Sterling first. Hard and fast. Force a public retraction and apology within forty-eight hours." I pulled up the draft demand letter I'd started at 3 AM. "We copy every major legal publication, the bar association, their client list. Make it clear that if they don't comply, we'll not only sue—we'll make sure every potential client knows they run smear campaigns for hire."
Diana scanned my draft, then smiled slowly. "That's vicious."
"That's proportionate."
"What about Kane?" Sophia asked.
"We document everything. Build the file. But right now, she's a second-tier target." I met Diana's eyes. "If we try to fight on two fronts, we'll look desperate. This way, we force Sterling to fold, prove the defamation was fabricated, and Kane's involvement becomes undeniable. Then we decide whether to pursue."
Diana nodded. "Smart. Let them panic first."
I sent the demand letter at 2 PM. Forty-seven pages, meticulously footnoted. Every false claim identified. Every piece of evidence attached. I cc'd the Silverton Bar Association, three legal ethics boards, and reporters at The Legal Observer and Business & Law Weekly.
By 2:47, my phone rang. Sterling PR's managing partner.
"Ms. Grant, I think there's been a misunderstanding—"
"There's been defamation," I said. "Funded by your agency."
"We had no idea the information was false—"
"You had every idea. Your contract required you to verify sources. You didn't. You posted fabricated allegations designed to destroy my professional reputation."
"If we could discuss this privately—"
"You have forty-eight hours to issue a public retraction on every platform where you posted. Full admission that the allegations were false. Apology. And confirmation that you've terminated your relationship with the client who hired you for this campaign."
"Ms. Grant, that's—"
"Non-negotiable. The alternative is litigation, and I promise you, the discovery process will be extremely unpleasant. Every client you've ever worked for will wonder what you might reveal about them under oath."
Silence. Then: "I'll need to consult with our legal team."
"You have forty-eight hours." I hung up.
My hands were steady. My pulse wasn't.
---
I spent the next three hours on client calls.
The tech CEO was easy. "I saw Reynolds' statement," he said. "And honestly, anyone who knows your work knows this was bullshit. We're actually expanding the IP portfolio project—want you to lead it."
The manufacturing executive took more convincing. I walked him through every piece of evidence, let him see the payment trail, explained exactly how Sterling operated.
"I appreciate your transparency," he finally said. "Most lawyers would've tried to sweep this under the rug."
"I don't sweep. If you can't trust my integrity, we shouldn't work together."
He was quiet for a moment. Then: "That's exactly why we should. Consider the contract renewed."
The third call—a family business heir whose great-grandfather had founded his company—was harder.
"I have to think about optics," he said carefully. "My board is... conservative. They're concerned about association."
"Then you should fire me." I kept my voice level. "Because if your board makes decisions based on anonymous internet posts rather than documented professional performance, I'm not the right attorney for you anyway."
"Ms. Grant—"
"I'm not interested in clients who don't trust me. Life's too short." I paused. "But if you want to see the evidence before you decide, I'll send it over. Your choice."
He called back twenty minutes later. "Send me the retention agreement for next quarter."
By seven PM, I'd secured four clients, lost none, and gained a new referral.
Diana poked her head into my office. "You leaving soon?"
"Soon."
She studied me. "You okay?"
"Fine."
"Lena."
I looked up. She was still in the doorway, arms crossed, that expression that meant she wasn't buying it.
"I'm fine," I said again. "We executed the strategy. Now we wait."
"I meant about Reynolds."
Of course she did.
"What about him?"
"He basically nuked his own reputation to defend yours. The business press is having a field day—half of them are calling it romantic, half are questioning his judgment." She tilted her head. "You two have history I don't know about?"
"We were married. It's in the public record."
"Contract marriage," she said. "For two years. Ended three weeks ago." She'd clearly done her research. "So why is he still protecting you?"
"Professional courtesy. We worked together extensively during the marriage."
Diana snorted. "Nobody torches their ex-girlfriend's reputation and risks their own company's PR for 'professional courtesy.' Come on."
"It's complicated."
"Complicated how?"
I saved the document I'd been working on. "Diana. I appreciate the concern. But my personal life is separate from the firm."
"Until it isn't." She pushed off the doorframe. "Just... don't let your guard down too fast. Men who ignored you for two years don't usually turn into white knights overnight."
She left before I could respond.