Chapter 109 *
Damon's POV
I leaned back in my chair. My tablet sat on the desk in front of me. I'd been scrolling through news articles for the past twenty minutes. Each one made my jaw clench a little tighter.
My thumb moved across the screen. Another article. Another piece of Scarlett's past laid bare for the world to see.
Construction sites. Twelve-hour shifts. Heavy lifting in Montana winters.
The article had photos. Grainy shots from someone's old phone. Scarlett in work boots and a safety vest. Her hands wrapped around a sledgehammer. Dirt on her face.
She couldn't have been more than sixteen in those pictures.
Sixteen years old. Doing manual labor. While other kids her age were worried about prom dates and college applications.
I set the tablet down. Pressed my palms against the cool mahogany desk.
My chest felt tight. Like someone had wrapped steel bands around my ribs and was pulling them tighter with each breath.
I picked up the tablet again. Kept reading.
The article went into detail about her foster parents. Dr. Simon Quinn and his wife. Country doctors in rural Montana.
On paper, they looked perfect. Respected in the community. Pillars of small-town America.
But the article painted a different picture. How they'd taken in foster kids for the monthly stipend. How Scarlett had been expected to contribute financially from the moment she was old enough to work.
Construction sites. Waitressing. Cleaning houses. Whatever paid cash.
All while maintaining perfect grades. While studying for the SATs. While dreaming of getting out.
My hand tightened on the tablet. The screen cracked slightly under the pressure.
I didn't even notice until I saw the thin line spreading across the glass.
I set it down carefully. Took a slow breath.
Then I thought about the Romano family.
My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth would crack.
Scarlett was mine. My wife. Under my protection.
And these people had treated her like garbage. Like she was less than nothing.
When the hell did they get the right to do that?
Scarlett had survived all of it. The foster system. The exploitation. The family that should have loved her but didn't.
She'd not only survived. She'd thrived. And still, people tried to tear her down.
I scrolled through my contacts. Found the number I needed.
"Sir." Axel's voice came through clear and professional.
"That file we've been holding," I said. My voice was calm. Level. "Release it. All of it."
Silence on the other end. Just for a second.
"Everything?" Axel asked. "The full package?"
"Every single document. Every recording. Every transaction." I turned away from the window. "I want it everywhere. Every major news outlet. Every social media platform. Every gossip site that matters."
"Understood." I could hear him typing already. "When do you want this deployed?"
"Now."
"Yes, sir." More typing. "And the secondary targets? The friends who were in those group chats?"
"All of them." I walked back to my desk. Sat down. "I want their names. Their faces. Every nasty thing they said. Every plan they made. Every dollar they spent trying to destroy my wife."
My wife. The words came out with more force than usual.
"Consider it done." Axel's voice was crisp. Efficient. "Deploying now."
I hung up and leaned back in my chair. Closed my eyes for a moment.
Scarlett probably had no idea what was about to happen. She was at home. Probably reading. Or studying. She'd tried so hard to stay out of the spotlight. To keep her head down. To just live her life.
But people wouldn't let her. People like Madison Park. People who thought money and connections made them untouchable.
They were about to learn differently.
My phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen.
A message from Axel.
"Package delivered. Give it twenty minutes."
I picked up a glass of whiskey I'd poured earlier. The ice had melted. I drank it anyway.
Twenty-three minutes later, my phone started buzzing. Continuously.
I picked it up. Opened X.
The trending page loaded.
#MadisonParkExposed was already number three. Climbing fast.
I clicked on it.
The first tweet had been posted eighteen minutes ago. Already had forty thousand retweets.
@AnonymousJustice: THREAD: Madison Park hired reputation management firms to destroy Scarlett Romano's life. Here's the proof. 🧵
I scrolled down. The thread was extensive. Professional. Devastating.
Screenshots of text messages. Full conversation threads. No context missing. No ambiguity.
Madison discussing how much money to spend. Madison laughing about Scarlett's humiliation. Madison instructing her hired firms to "bury her so deep she never crawls out."
Then came the voice recordings. Someone had edited them into short, shareable clips. Each one more damning than the last.
The comments were brutal.
@JusticeSeeker47: She literally LAUGHED about ruining someone's life. What kind of psychopath does that?
@RealTalkNYC: This isn't bullying. This is criminal conspiracy. She needs to be in PRISON.
@AcademicIntegrity: She spent a MILLION DOLLARS trying to destroy a girl from foster care who worked construction to survive. Let that sink in.
I kept scrolling. The hashtag was exploding. Every few seconds, dozens of new tweets appeared.
Then I saw the second trending topic.
#MadisonParkIsACriminal
I clicked on it.
More evidence. This time from Madison's past. Screenshots from her college years. Testimonies from former classmates.
One tweet had a photo attached. A young woman's face. Her eyes were red. She'd been crying.
@SurvivorSpeaksOut: Madison Park is why I can't have children. She paid my family $500K to stay quiet when I was 16. I'm done being silent. This is my story. 🧵
The thread that followed was horrific. Detailed. Impossible to dismiss.
My phone buzzed again. This time it was a call.
Axel.
I answered. "Talk to me."
"It's everywhere, sir." His voice had an edge of satisfaction. "CNN just picked it up. MSNBC is preparing a segment. The New York Times is reaching out to sources."
"Good."
"The Park family's legal team is already scrambling. They've reached out to three different crisis management firms in the last ten minutes."
"They'll need more than crisis management." I stood up. Walked back to the window. "What about the victims? The ones coming forward?"
"Seven so far. All credible. All with documentation. Two have already hired lawyers."
"Make sure those lawyers have everything they need. Access to our legal resources. Whatever they want."
"Already arranged, sir."
I looked out at the city. Somewhere out there, Madison Park was probably just realizing what was happening. Probably watching her perfect life crumble in real time.
I didn't feel sorry for her. Not even a little.
I grabbed my jacket. Headed for the door.
Time to go home to my wife.