er, the thumbnails loading in a steady stream of gray and white. Claire plugged the e

d the folder name aloud. She

table. A woman in a sequined gown sat alone, her hands wrapped around a crystal glass. Her rings caught the li

era, staring out a vast window at the city that was supposed to be his kingdom, a champagne flute untouched in his hand. The Cost of Ad

ions of wealth, exposing the rot beneath the glamour. Claire had spent three years as a ghost in th

to look at Claire, who was leaning agai

is isn't just a comeback; this is a declaration of war." She pointed at the scre

ed to never speak of me. I agreed to never speak o

r on the table. "They'l

laire corrected. "The pictures are anonymo

how. Not yet. It's too slow. We need something fast. Something viral." She stopped and pointed at th

topped on one image. It was a macro shot. It showed a woman's hand, heavily veined, wearing a massive diamond ring. The hand was gripping

e," Clai

t, then looked at

ed her secure browser. She navigated to Instagram and logged into her old, deeply buried handle: Aurora_Official. The profile loaded. It had the bl

vering over her own keyboard, complet

ire whispere

le word for the caption: Awakening. She moved

d. Then the post went live. Claire locked h

us, angry vibration against the wooden table. Vivian frowned, opening her PR monitoring dashboard. "

shock and awe spreading across her face. "God, I

e felt a strange detachment. It was

rity Gala-the exact same event where Axel had demanded his suit days ago-was hosting its exclusive w

posing for a photographer from the Daily Mail. Axel felt a dull headache throbbing behind his eyes. Candida

all hand place a fresh drink in his palm. He always had a drink

ampagne. Axel grabbed two flutes, shoving one into Candida's hand. He took a long sip

n his face. He had his phone out and was waving it like a flag.

opped. "What are

phone in Axel's face. "The mouse.

d The Morning Scandal. The headline was in bold red letters:

n SoHo, her backpack over her shoulder. The article was a smear job. It mocked her clothes, her "downgrade" in hous

. Gold digger. Go back to the hamptons. A slow, cruel smile

ough for the nearby tables to hear. "Let her play artist.

t the phone in Pierce's hand, the image of Claire's back burning into his mind. S