Chapter 3

On the way to the office, my assistant sent a single message: Bad news. Be careful.

I arrived to find a swarm of journalists blocking the entrance—cameras pointed at something in the middle of the crowd. I pushed forward.

Two steps in, someone threw their arms around my legs.

I looked down.

Vivienne Pierce was on her knees in front of me, forehead nearly touching the ground.

"Ms. Hilton," she said, voice cracking, "I know you have power I can't imagine. But if you're going to destroy someone—destroy me. Please. Spare Leo. Spare his parents. They're not young anymore. They can't take this."

As she spoke, she uncapped a small bottle and raised it toward her lips, her expression fixed with a kind of frantic resolve.

"If my life is what it takes to make this stop—then at least I'll have died for something."

Every word was a carefully placed blade.

The message was clear: I'm noble enough to sacrifice myself. You're just a scorned woman with a grudge, throwing your weight around.

She'd barely finished speaking before the reporters closed in.

"Ms. Hilton, are you really going to drive them both to their graves?"

"Ms. Hilton, murder is a crime—will you turn yourself in if she dies, or use your connections to walk free?"

I looked down at Vivienne. My expression didn't move.

"I never intended to kill anyone," I said, each word deliberate. "And that poison isn't mine."

Vivienne leaned in—close enough that only I could hear—and whispered, "You'll never win against me, Elara Hilton."

Then, before I could react, she grabbed my hand, forced the bottle into my grip, wrapped both our hands around it, and tipped the contents into her own throat.

"Ah—"

The cameras captured every frame of it.

A second later, someone wrenched the bottle from my hand. A palm connected with my face—hard. I hit the ground.

Leo stood over me, his eyes burning with something beyond rage.

"How could you do this," he breathed. "Vivienne is carrying our child—my family's grandchild—and you—"

I stared up at him from the pavement.

Pregnant.

So it had been going on that long. The two of them, together—long before today.

Every platform picked up Vivienne's "attempted suicide." Comment sections overflowed with people saying I deserved to be left. My personal social media was buried under waves of abuse.

And then came the petition—a viral post demanding my removal as General Manager of Hilton Group.

It wasn't just Vivienne's handiwork. My half-brother and stepmother had their fingerprints all over it too.

"Secretary Liam," I said, keeping my voice level, "suppress every negative story about me. Commission some positive coverage."

There was a pause.

"Ms.…Hilton…"

"The board just released a statement," she said quietly. "They've removed you as General Manager. Effective immediately. All company resources are frozen to you."

"…Understood."

Lancaster Group's stock had already recovered.

I set my phone down on the table. Slowly.

It didn't shatter because I made a choice to put it down carefully.

I was still sitting with the wreckage when Leo walked through the door.

"I've had the negative press about you taken down," he said. "Elara—if you ask me, I can also get your father to reinstate your position. I know how much you've worked for it. I know how badly you want to lead Hilton Group."

He paused, watching me.

"But you'd have to ask."