Chapter 57

Ian's POV

I stared at my phone, watching the headlines about Serena disappear one by one. My fingers tightened around the device as another notification popped up - yet another article taken down. Fury coursed through my veins as I dialed Nina's number.

"They're all gone," I spat out the moment she answered. "Every single piece of negative press about Serena. Someone's been systematically removing them."

Nina's voice came through, carefully measured. "I know. It seems Lucas Harrington's been quite... proactive in protecting her interests."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Of course. Serena certainly knows how to wrap men around her finger, doesn't she?" The words tasted like acid on my tongue. "First me, now Harrington. She's quite talented at that particular game."

"Ian, calm down. The damage is already done. The public won't forget the scandal so easily."

I paced across my study, the evening light casting long shadows across the hardwood floors. "She's planning a press conference, Nina. A press conference! The audacity of that woman..." My free hand clenched into a fist. "She actually thinks she can salvage her reputation."

"Let her try," Nina's voice held a note of calculated malice. "The more she exposes herself, the more vulnerable she becomes."

I paused by the window, watching the city lights flicker to life. "I'll handle the media contacts. Make sure they ask the right questions." I said through clenched teeth, "If Serena wants to face the press, we'll give her an audience she won't forget."

After hanging up, I settled into my leather chair, opening my laptop to check the latest developments. My blood ran cold as I saw Eleanor Yates's latest social media post - a lengthy defense of Serena, suggesting she'd been framed. The comments section was a battlefield, with opinions starting to shift.

"Damn it," I muttered, scrolling through the responses. Some were still condemning Serena, but others... others were beginning to question the narrative we'd so carefully constructed. Then came the announcement that made my stomach turn - StarRiver Group's unconditional return policy. A strategic move that was already garnering public approval.

My hand shook slightly as I reached for my phone again. I needed to act fast. Within minutes, I was making calls to every media contact in my network, my voice steady despite the panic clawing at my chest.

"I want her cornered at that press conference," I instructed one editor after another. "No softball questions. No easy escapes." I made promises of exclusive access, of future favors - whatever it took to ensure their cooperation.

I picked up my phone, finding Serena's number with practiced ease. The connection tone hummed - once, twice - before her voice came through, cool and composed as ever.

"Having some trouble lately, Serena?" I couldn't keep the smugness from my voice. "Three million in losses, I hear. Not to mention the twenty million units already in production. That puts you what - over a hundred million in the red?"

Her silence was telling. I continued, relishing each word. "And without investors backing you... well, we both know where this is heading."

"Is there a point to this call, Ian Whitemore?" Her voice remained steady, irritatingly so.

I leaned back in my chair, adopting a more conciliatory tone. "Actually, there is. I could help you, you know. All you need to do is admit you're in over your head. StarRiver Group needs experienced leadership, not..." I paused deliberately, "amateur hour."

"That's very generous of you." The sarcasm in her voice made my fingers tighten around the phone. "But I'll have to decline."

"Always so stubborn, aren't you? This is exactly why things didn't work between us. You never could accept help gracefully." I sneered.

"Speaking of help," her tone shifted, becoming razor-sharp, "those photos that leaked to the press - they wouldn't have anything to do with you, would they?"

My heart skipped a beat, but I kept my voice steady. "Photos? I have no idea what you're talking about. Though if you're facing some media scrutiny, perhaps it's because you've made yourself too visible. The press can be quite ruthless with prominent figures."

"Interesting theory. Especially since some of those photos were from private events. Events where you were present, if I recall correctly."

I stood up abruptly, pacing beside my desk. "I rarely attend those kinds of gatherings. And I certainly don't keep track of who drinks what with whom."

"No?" Her voice carried a dangerous edge now. "Then you wouldn't know anything about Nina's involvement either?"

The name hit me like a physical blow. I stopped pacing, my free hand gripping the back of my chair. "Nina? What are you implying?"

"I think you know exactly what I'm implying, Ian Whitemore. The timing, the specific photos chosen, the convenient leak - it all points to someone with intimate knowledge of those events. Someone working with Nina."

"You're delusional," I snapped, heat rising in my collar. "If you're looking for someone to blame for your failures, try looking in a mirror. Your own arrogance is what's bringing you down, Serena. You and your pathetic attempt to prove yourself."

"Interesting choice of words. Especially coming from someone who's been working so hard to orchestrate my downfall."

The pretense was crumbling, and with it, my composure. "You don't know what you're talking about. This conversation is over."

I jabbed the end call button, my hand shaking with rage. How dare she? How dare she sit there, so calm and collected, while accusing me? The press conference tomorrow couldn't come soon enough. Let's see how composed she remains when everything falls apart.