My mind went blank. Explicit photos? Of me?

The previous nine contract girlfriends had all been terminated without warning. The woman standing before me made it obvious why.

Athena Simmons. The sole heiress of the Simmons family. Benedict Fox's childhood sweetheart.

I picked up one of the photos, studied it carefully, then looked up at Benedict's expression.

"Well, isn't this entertaining. That's twice now your image has fallen apart, Thelma." He was mocking me.

Athena stood with her arms crossed, watching me with the satisfied look of someone who'd already won.

"Mr. Fox, there's no rebuilding without something falling apart first."

"I can handle this two ways," I said, unhurried.

"Quick thinker. No wonder you ran a project division." Benedict tapped the desk. "Let's hear it."

"First, confirm whether these have spread online. If they have, we hire a lawyer and pursue legal action. We document the entire process and make it the content of our first livestream: a woman fighting back against defamation."

"You look like that and you still want to go live?"

Athena's voice dripped with disbelief.

"Ms. Simmons, the rougher the seas, the bigger the catch. Surely you understand that?"

"And if you don't, let me spell it out. Thanks to the stir you've created, all eyes are already on me. A doubled livestream impact is guaranteed."

"How do you know my last name?" Athena's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "And who created any stir?" Her fair complexion flushed red with irritation.

Of course I knew who she was. In Cindy's case files, Athena's name appeared more times than I could count.

"If there hasn't been any public spread, then we move to the second option."

"Which is this: Ms. Simmons, you gather up these AI-generated photos and walk out of here."

I stepped toward her, looked her straight in the eye, and seized the wrist she'd rested on the edge of the desk. I squeezed. Hard.

"Ow ow ow, that hurts!" She let out an exaggerated shriek. "Ben, do you see what this woman is? Are you really going to sign her?"

"So tell me, which option works better, Athena?" Benedict leaned back in his chair and asked her, his tone perfectly flat.

I didn't let go. I stared Athena down. I hadn't even begun to settle accounts for what happened to Cindy, and here she was, delivering herself right to my doorstep.

Athena wrenched her hand free and rubbed her wrist, humiliation curdling into fury.

"You dare claim you don't have a single skeleton in your closet?"

Derek's shadow flickered through my mind. But no. There was no way.

"Feel free to dig, Ms. Simmons. After all, you do have a talent for fabricating things out of thin air."

"You—!" Athena choked on her own words. Then she pivoted, her whole demeanor softening as she turned to Benedict. "Ben, she's violent! Look what she did to me!"

"Thelma. Apologize to her." Anger flashed across Benedict's face, edged with impatience.

"Then she owes me an apology for slander," I fired back.

"Athena isn't like that. Someone under her probably dug these up, and she rushed over to tell me." Benedict was making excuses for her.

"Then she should apologize for throwing unverified photos in your face," I pressed, refusing to yield.

"If you still want this contract, apologize." Benedict's voice hardened into a command.

I looked at Athena standing there, triumphant. Then at Benedict, her willing accomplice. Then I remembered why I'd come here in the first place.

A smile slid onto my face in an instant. I'd perfected that skill during years of corporate servitude.

I took Athena's wrist, the same one she claimed I'd bruised, and said gently, "Athena, my temper got the better of me. I'm sorry." Then I turned to Benedict with a warm smile.

"And Mr. Fox, please don't be upset. Athena is just so trusting, she's bound to make mistakes sometimes. I'll help you keep an eye on her from now on."

Athena opened her mouth to find fault but couldn't land a single blow. She stood off to the side, fuming in silence.

"Head back. I'll see you at the gala tonight." Benedict's voice turned gentle again.

I walked out of the office. Miles fell into step beside me, his voice low. "Ms. Summers, Mr. Fox treats you differently than the others."

"Differently?"

"The previous nine. He never let any of them stay in that house. And he never personally delivered shoes to anyone."

I paused mid-step. "That house. Whose is it?"

Miles hesitated, then swallowed whatever he'd been about to say. "Just be careful tonight at the gala. Ms. Simmons will be there too."

Of course she would. Some people you just can't shake.

"Athena's just being childish. Don't take it to heart."

I'd barely walked back through the door when Benedict's message came through. Whether he was making excuses for Athena or trying to comfort me, I couldn't tell.

I didn't reply. No point picking a fight I couldn't win yet. Athena and I had a running tab, and I intended to collect every last cent.

The stylist unzipped the garment bag the assistant had delivered. Inside was a black evening gown.

"Ms. Summers, let's get you into this first."

I changed into the gown and stood before the mirror.

Elegant. Polished. Every curve in exactly the right place.

The stylist pushed her glasses up her nose. "Ms. Summers, you look stunning."

I smiled, but before I could say a word—

"Oh no!" She pointed, voice rising. "There's a snag in the fishtail!"

I twisted to look. A long, ugly pull ran through the fabric like a scar across a beautiful face.

The stylist grabbed her phone. On the other end, the assistant's voice was tight with frustration. "How is that possible? How does someone make that kind of amateur mistake?"

"I know what happened..." The assistant trailed off, clearly afraid to finish.

"Spit it out." I could hear the hesitation in his voice plain as day.

"The gown... Ms. Simmons asked to see it earlier..."

That said it all. This kind of petty sabotage, and she really thought it would rattle me?

"I'll find something similar in the closet here."

"But Ms. Summers, Mr. Fox said the gowns were off-limits."

"It's fine. I'll explain it to him myself."

I hung up and walked toward the closet.

I pulled open the wardrobe doors. Women's clothes filled every rack, all styles, all sizes, price tags still dangling.

As if someone had bought them in bulk, waiting for the right person to come see them.

My gaze drifted to a jewelry drawer tucked in the corner. I pulled it open gently. In the most prominent spot, a butterfly necklace lay waiting.

I knew this design better than anyone. It was identical to the one I kept pressed against my chest every single day.

Beside it sat a yellowed slip of paper. I recognized the handwriting.

To the best big sister in the world, Cindy. Love, Ben.

Ben. Benedict Fox. Cindy. Cindy Pruitt.

This had been her house. Her beautiful house. And Benedict had let other women live here?

He truly didn't care about her at all. No wonder he'd never said a single word after she died.

"Pruitt family heiress and her con-artist husband defraud investors, destroying multiple families."

"Pruitt heiress caught on camera assaulting impoverished college student."

The comment sections back then had been vile beyond description. Three days after those headlines broke, I saw the news of Cindy's death.

All she left me was this one necklace.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

The black dress. It looked so much like the one Cindy had worn in those news clips.

I picked up the butterfly necklace and fastened it around my neck.

The stylist froze. "Ms. Summers, that's..."

"I know exactly what it is." I met my own eyes in the mirror. "I'm wearing this one."

The stylist opened her mouth, then closed it.

I gave her a small smile. "Relax. I know what I'm doing."

Tonight, plenty of people would see it.

Including Benedict.

Including Athena.

Athena, you gave me a ruined dress. I'll give you this necklace.