Chapter 63

Serena's POV

I was reviewing the quarterly reports when my phone vibrated against the glass surface, displaying a name that made my lips curl into a knowing smile: "Evelyn Whitmore."

Ian. Of course he'd use his sister's phone.

I let it ring twice more, using those moments to center myself. Finally, I picked up the phone and answered with deliberate calm.

"Hello, 'Evelyn.'" I infused just enough irony into the name to let him know his ruse hadn't fooled me for a second.

"You've done it now." Ian's voice trembled with barely contained rage, dropping all pretense. "You've really done it this time, Serena."

"Have I?" I leaned back in my chair, gazing out at the Manhattan skyline. "And here I thought I was just evening the playing field."

"Evening the-" He barked out a harsh laugh. "You call what you did evening the field? You destroyed everything!"

"Isn't that what you taught me to do?" I kept my voice light, almost conversational. "You were quite the instructor in destruction, as I recall."

"Don't you dare turn this around on me," he snarled. "How did you get those photos? Who's been helping you?"

I traced a finger along the edge of my desk, remembering the plain manila envelope that had appeared on my doorstep the day after the engagement disaster. "Would you believe they came from someone with a conscience? Though I suppose that's a foreign concept to you."

"Stop with the sanctimonious act. We both know you're no better than me. All those years of supposed trust and loyalty - we're cut from the same cloth, Serena."

The words hit like a slap, and I felt my carefully maintained composure crack. "Let me make something perfectly clear, Ian." My voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Don't ever presume to put us on the same level. You're right about one thing - I did trust you. I was loyal. The difference is, I actually meant it."

"The recordings," he cut in, desperation creeping into his tone. "There's no way you could have gotten those unless-"

"Unless someone was smart enough to see through you from the beginning?" I allowed myself a small smile, thinking of Lucas's foresight. "You really should be more careful about what you say in board meetings. You never know who might be listening."

The silence on the other end was telling. I could almost see him putting the pieces together, realizing just how thoroughly he'd been outmaneuvered.

"Lucas," he finally spat the name like a curse. "He's behind this, isn't he?"

"Lucas simply provided the truth you tried so hard to hide." I straightened in my chair, steel entering my voice. "Everything else - the timing, the execution - that was all me. Consider it my parting gift for all those lessons in betrayal you taught me."

"You think you've won?" His voice had gone quiet, dangerous. "This isn't over, Serena. You have no idea what's coming."

"Actually, I do." I stood. "What's coming is the consequences of your own actions. There's an old saying about sowing and reaping, Ian. I suggest you reflect on it."

"Don't you dare-"

"We're done here." I cut him off with finality. "Don't call this number again. Not even from Evelyn's phone." I ended the call before he could respond.

Nina's POV

I curled deeper into the leather sofa, surrounded by scattered tissues and the remnants of my carefully constructed image. The press conference played on repeat in my mind, each remembered flash of the cameras feeling like another stab to my dignity.

*They're probably writing their stories right now.* The thought sent a fresh wave of panic through me. I couldn't bear to check my phone, knowing what I'd find - headlines, social media posts, all of them dissecting my public breakdown. My fingers trembled as I reached for another tissue.

*Damn you, Serena.*

A knock at the door shattered my spiral of self-pity. "I said leave me alone!" I shouted, my voice cracking perfectly. The door opened anyway, and I whirled around, ready to unleash my frustration on whatever incompetent assistant had dared to disturb me.

The words died in my throat. Standing in the doorway was my grandmother, Beatrice Sinclair, with my mother Angela hovering just behind her. The sight of them instantly shifted my calculations. I let my shoulders slump further, making sure to keep my mascara-stained tissues visible.

"Grandmother..." I whispered, my voice trembling. "I'm so sorry. I've disappointed you, haven't I?" I didn't have to fake the way my hands shook - the adrenaline of opportunity coursing through me took care of that.

Beatrice's stern expression softened slightly as she stepped into the office. She'd always been my most reliable ally, especially when it came to conflicts with Serena. Mother caught my eye briefly as she closed the door behind them, and I saw the familiar glint of understanding in her gaze.

"I never meant for things to get so out of hand," I continued, dabbing at my eyes. "I just... I didn't expect Serena to humiliate me like that in front of everyone. Her own sister..." I let my voice break on the last word.

"That girl has always been trouble," Grandmother muttered, her jaw tightening. I could practically see the wheels turning in her head. This was exactly what we needed - her protective instincts activated, her existing bias against Serena reinforced.

"Maybe she's still bitter about Ian," I offered hesitantly, as if the thought had just occurred to me. "Ever since their engagement ended..." I trailed off, watching Grandmother's expression darken further.

"That's enough about her personal affairs," Grandmother cut in sharply. "Where is she now?"

I exchanged a quick glance with Mother. This was the opening we'd been waiting for. "In her office, I think. But Grandmother, please don't be too hard on her. I'm sure she didn't mean to-"

"That is my concern, not yours." Grandmother's tone brooked no argument. "Show me where."

I rose unsteadily to my feet, making sure to sway slightly so Mother had to steady me. "Of course, Grandmother. This way." As we moved toward the door, I caught Mother's subtle nod of approval.

*This is almost too easy,* I thought, leading them down the hallway toward Serena's office. The clicking of Grandmother's heels against the marble floor sounded like a countdown to victory. I could already picture Serena's face when she saw who I'd brought to her door.

We rounded the corner to find Vincent Chadwick standing guard outside Serena's office. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of us, and he stepped forward, blocking the path.

"I'm sorry, but Miss Sinclair isn't taking any visitors at the moment," he said firmly.

Grandmother drew herself up to her full height. "I am not a visitor, young man. I am Beatrice Sinclair, and that is my granddaughter's office. Step aside."