Chapter 134 When the Tide Turns
Briar's POV
The notification lit up my phone at exactly two PM the next afternoon. Sterling Pharmaceuticals had just posted an official statement claiming the leaked photos were "unauthorized use by third-party media" and threatening legal action against anyone who'd published them.
I stared at the carefully worded corporate speak, my thumb hovering over the screen. Buried in my laptop's encrypted folder was proof that those photos had come directly from Sterling's internal servers—digital watermarks that would trace back to their own network. But releasing that evidence would also implicate Apex Bio-Solutions, would shine a spotlight on Lucian's company in ways that could destroy everything he'd built.
My finger trembled slightly above the trackpad. Even after everything, after the lies and the manipulation, was I really prepared to burn his entire operation just to expose Julian? But Julian had to pay. He'd thrown me into traffic like garbage, humiliated me in front of a crowd. The anger flared hot and sharp. I pulled up the video files I'd been preparing and started crafting my response.
Thirty minutes later, I hit publish on the compilation I'd spent all morning editing. Two pieces of footage spliced together—the first showing Julian in the pouring rain, his hands rough as he shoved me toward the road. The second from a different angle, showing the massive silver-gray wolf form that had lunged between me and the oncoming traffic, and then me stumbling forward anyway.
The caption was simple: "Two dash cams. Two perspectives. One from Julian Sterling's own vehicle. One from a witness who happened to be driving past."
Within five minutes, it had hit the number one trending spot. The second piece of footage had definitely come from Lucian's car. I'd recognized the angle, the distortion of his particular dash cam model. Which meant he'd somehow gotten access to Julian's vehicle recordings too. How? And why was he still helping me?
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"Ms. Vance, you need to see this." Lily burst through my office door forty minutes later, her phone thrust out. "There's a forum thread blowing up. Look at the title—'We'll Take Your Head from a Thousand Miles Away.'"
I took her phone and scrolled through what appeared to be a detailed investigative report written by five college students who'd dubbed themselves the "Moonlight Detective Squad." They'd used digital forensics to trace the leaked photos back to a single source who'd distributed them to three different media outlets. Then they'd posted the suspect's photo on a missing persons website, offering a cash reward for information.
The guy had been greedy enough to take the bait. The girls had tracked him to a meeting with someone from Montgomery Medical Group, filmed the exchange, and reported him to the police for attempted extortion.
The final two comments made me laugh despite everything. "Anyway, the guy in the photos had his face covered, so we just told the police he wasn't our brother who has dementia. What's the problem?" And then, "He was trying to extort money from us. The nice police officer said that's a crime."
These strangers had gone to extraordinary lengths to help me, and they'd done it with humor and cleverness and no expectation of reward.
I pressed the intercom button. "Owen, I need you to contact those five girls from the Moonlight Detective Squad. The fifty thousand dollar reward we offered? Pay it out in full. And I want lifetime VIP gift boxes prepared for each of them."
There was a pause. "They didn't do it for the money. They said in the thread they were donating any reward to charity."
"I know. That's exactly why I'm paying them. I don't let good people lose out because they chose to be kind."
After I hung up, I stared at that forum thread again, my eyes burning slightly. These women didn't know me. They'd simply seen an injustice and decided to do something about it.
By evening, Montgomery Medical Group's entire social media presence had been overrun. Every post, every comment section was flooded with angry users demanding accountability.
Devon had posted an apology around four PM, carefully worded to admit only to "unauthorized actions by a rogue employee" while announcing the termination of said employee. The internet wasn't buying it.
Remember when you called Vance Botanicals products "healthcare for poor people"? We remember.
You mocked us when we said your prices were exploitative. Well, now it's your turn to face consequences.
At six-thirty PM, Apex Bio-Solutions posted a video I hadn't expected. "Complete Recording: Medical Project Bidding Session from Two Months Ago."
I watched myself systematically dismantle Devon's presentation, expose his team's theft of our research data, identify the corporate spy, and demand answers he couldn't provide. The video was unaltered—every stammered excuse, every moment of Devon realizing he'd been caught.
My hand tightened around my phone. Lucian. Why was he still doing this? Why was he helping me now, after I'd made it clear we were finished?
By Nine PM, Montgomery's stock had dropped seventeen percent. I sat watching the financial news coverage, feeling cold satisfaction settle in my chest. This was what consequences looked like.
Owen appeared with updates. "Multiple investors are filing suit against Devon Montgomery for breach of fiduciary duty. There's talk he might lose his position as heir. Some Pack elders are pushing to have him removed from Silverwind entirely."
I was quiet for a long moment. "He brought this on himself."
At ten PM sharp, I went live with a special broadcast. The background music was "We Are Family," and the stream title read "When They Go Low, We Go High."
"Tonight isn't about revenge," I said, watching the viewer count climb past fifty thousand. "Tonight is about lifting up the small brands that have been crushed under corporate monopolies. For the next three hours, any independent healthcare brand can join this stream and sell directly to our audience. Vance Botanicals will take only five percent of sales. We're not here to exploit anyone. We're here to change how this industry operates."
Orders started flooding in so fast our systems briefly lagged. I watched the numbers climb—fifty thousand orders, seventy thousand, breaking a hundred thousand within forty minutes. My employees were scrambling to coordinate, their faces bright with excitement. For the first time in days, I felt something other than anger. I felt purpose.
"Someone's requesting to join the stream!"
The screen split, and Ash's face appeared, his head wrapped in bandages but his smile genuine. He held up a lollipop triumphantly. "Look what I stole from my brother's pocket!"
My breath stopped. It was a blueberry-flavored lollipop, the wrapper slightly crumpled, and I knew with absolute certainty it was one of the ninety-nine I'd thrown away. One of the ones I'd left behind when I walked out of Lucian's life.
He'd kept it. He'd picked it out of the trash and kept it.
"Ash," I managed, forcing my voice steady. "You should be resting."
He opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off gently. "Some things are better left in the past."
One week later, the front page showed Devon Montgomery's photo above a headline: "Montgomery Heir Faces $30 Million in Penalty Claims from Fifteen Institutional Partners."
I sat with the newspaper spread across my desk, looking at Devon's haggard expression, and felt nothing but vast, echoing emptiness. He'd lost everything—his position, his inheritance, possibly even his Pack standing.
And Vance Botanicals, along with the coalition of small brands we'd built, was steadily claiming the market share Montgomery had abandoned. We were winning.