CHAPTER 155 - DAMAGE CONTROL

CHAPTER 155 - DAMAGE CONTROL
Bella's POV

The room smelled of lemon polish and perfume. Forks sang on plates. People smiled like they were handing out small miracles. I had been smiling too, until I saw her.

Victoria sat at the head table like a bright coin. She waved at people and they leaned in like flowers toward sun. My hands felt too big for the napkin. Diego squeezed my knee under the table and mouthed, You okay?

"I am," I lied.

She saw me. Of course she saw me. She always saw the thing she wanted to see. After her speech about art and how giving felt like duty she came to our table like she belonged there and Roberto stood up like a fool in love.

"Isabella, how lovely to see you," she said and her voice was smooth as polished glass. "You are glowing."

"Thanks," I said, and my voice was paper-thin. I pushed food around my plate to pretend I was content.

She leaned in close like she was sharing a secret. "I wanted to find you. To say something." Her breath smelled faintly of citrus and perfume. "I heard you have been under stress. It must be hard to be so visible."

"Tell me more about visibility," I said, because I could not stop myself.

She smiled and it was the smile that had folded Roberto into her hand. "People see what they want," she said. "Sometimes seeing is a kindness. Sometimes it is a weapon."

Diego's fork clinked. He watched her with the small, careful look he used when he thought someone might drown.

"Why did you come?" I asked, because there was no graceful way to ask her to go away.

"To help," she said. "To apologize. To—" She paused and chose the word like a jeweler choosing a stone. "To fix things."

"Fix what?" I asked.

She tapped her glass. "The way people talk. The little rumors. The hurt." Her eyes twinkled, but not in a way that made me trust them. "I wanted to offer perspective."

"Your perspective?" I laughed, a quiet sound. "You helped cause a lot of it."

She blinked like she had not known the exact hurt she had handed out. "History is complicated, Bella. People make choices. People regret. I regret. I want to make amends."

"Amends to Alex?" I said.

"To everyone who deserved it," she said. "Especially to the people who built the things I took for granted. Including you."

Her words landed soft and wrong. I watched Roberto, who had grown up with her stories and believed in them like gospel. He beamed like a child who had been promised a present.

"Why are you here now?" I asked. "After all this? After the things you did."

She put her hand on the table and it trembled in that practiced way. "Because I learned things from being away," she said. "Because I saw the cost. I know how difficult governance is. I know how easy it is to be misread. I wanted to talk to a few people on the board. To explain."

"Explain what?" I asked. The room felt too loud. My pulse hit the beat of the piano.

"That decisions are human," she said. "That Alexander is passionate. That sometimes passion looks like bad judgment to other people." She smiled a little more, and then her eyes slid to me like a blade. "And I heard about your little photography problem."

My fork clattered. "What do you mean?"

"Oh come now," she said, like she was playing a game. "That photo of you leaving Martinez's? Very flattering. The timestamps. The angles. Someone was quite thorough."

"That picture was taken without my consent," I said. My voice came out sharp. I felt heat at my neck. "Who told you about it?"

She sipped her wine like a queen. "I have friends," she said. "Friends who care about truth. Friends who like to keep me informed."

"Friends inside our company?" I asked because the words did not want to stop sliding out.

She tilted her head and the light caught her cheekbone. "Somewhere, Bella. People move in circles. People talk. It is a small city."

Diego's knuckles whitened on the tablecloth. "So you know more than you are letting on," he said. His voice was flat now.

Victoria's smile thinned. "I know enough," she said. "Enough to say that leaks hurt more than they help. Enough to say that sympathy is earned. Enough to say that some people should mind their footwork."

"Who?" I demanded. My heart had started to run like a child in a hallway.

She laughed, quick and bright. "You always were dramatic. But you asked." She leaned closer and dropped her voice. "There are people who wanted Alexander to fail. He had choices that were risky. People notice risk."

"Who noticed?" I asked again, the word lodged like a stone.

"Certain directors," she said. "Certain friends. People who are very good at listening for tremors. People who will act when the ground quivers."

I felt the ground move a little beneath my feet. "You are not helping," I said.

"I thought I was being helpful," she said. "I thought I could right some small things. Instead, I find it complicated." Her eyes softened, then hardened. "But perhaps the truth will come soon. That could be... freeing."

"Is that a threat?" I asked. My voice shook.

"No," she said, and the word was light. "A promise. Or a promise to watch."

I stood up because sitting felt like giving in. "Leave Roberto alone," I said. "Do not make him your pawn."

She smiled with teeth like money. "I only ever asked for a meal," she said. "Is that a crime?"

Diego reached for my hand under the table. "We will be careful," he said.

"Good," Victoria said. "Be careful."

She left then, like a storm moving down the street. People applauded the charity organizers and the room returned to its polite sound. But something had shifted in the air, like a picture moved an inch and the whole wall looked off.

I moved toward the restroom because I needed a place to breathe. The mirror was fogged with perfume when I came in and someone at the sink was finishing a conversation. Sandra.

My stomach dropped. Sandra looked up and her face was small. She smiled and then she did something that rattled the cup inside my chest. She reached into her clutch and slid a small folded note across the porcelain counter toward a woman in a scarf who had been with Victoria.

The note was tiny and white and when the woman unfolded it she read and laughed, a short sound, and then they both looked toward the door where Victoria had been and smiled like two people who shared a secret.

My throat closed. I walked closer. Sandra did not see me yet. The handwriting on the note was neat and slanted and for a reason my mind could not explain it looked like the same handwriting from the envelope Sandra had shown me in the office weeks ago.

I stopped dead. The world thinned. The woman folded the note and tucked it into her glove. Sandra washed her hands and smoothed her blouse and then left the restroom without looking at me.

The light buzzed. I held the cold sink like it might keep me anchored. My phone buzzed in my pocket with a message from an unknown number.

It read, in four little words: We are closer than you think.