Chapter 7

Aurelia POV:

Britni' s whimper cut through Chandler' s furious rebuttal. He didn' t even register my words. His attention, as always, snapped to her, the damsel in distress. The phone line crackled with his hurried murmurs of reassurance to Britni, then a sharp, "I'm coming, darling!" He hung up without another word to me.

Just before he clicked off, I heard a new voice in the background, a man's, asking, "Sir, the package for Ms. Reese, is it ready?"

"Yes, yes, send it over," Chandler barked, his voice distant. "And send the matching one to Britni's room. Aurelia's just being dramatic. She'll get over it. She always does." His voice was laced with a dismissive arrogance. "She's easily pleased."

Easily pleased. He thought a gift would smooth everything over. He thought I was still that naïve girl who clung to his every word.

I was staring at the Twitter feed, the venomous comments, the doctored photos. A new video popped up. Britni, in a hospital bed, looking pale but angelic. Chandler was gently tucking a blanket around her, his face etched with concern. A reporter's voice cut in.

"Britni, there are allegations that Aurelia Reese, Mr. Roberson's former partner, pushed you down a flight of stairs. Do you have anything to say?"

Britni managed a weak, brave smile. "Oh, Aurelia... she's just a little bit... emotional right now. Chandler is such an amazing man, and I think... I think she just got a bit carried away." She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. "It was just a misunderstanding. I'm sure she didn't mean to hurt me." She looked up at Chandler, a picture of innocent devotion. "He's so wonderful, always helping everyone."

The reporter, already biased, nodded emphatically. "It's truly admirable, Mr. Roberson's dedication. What a terrible misunderstanding."

As Britni spoke, she subtly shifted her hand, and the camera caught it: a delicate silver bracelet shimmering on her wrist. A familiar design. My throat tightened. It was the bracelet Chandler had designed for me, a custom piece, for our fifth wedding anniversary. He'd said it symbolized our intertwined lives, our eternal bond. Now it was on her.

"And that beautiful bracelet, Britni," the reporter gushed. "Is that a gift from Mr. Roberson?"

Britni blushed, a pretty, innocent flush. "Oh, he's so thoughtful. He designed it himself. He said it reminded him of me." She lowered her gaze, feigning shyness. "He's just... so good to me."

The screen blurred. Sarah's voice, booming through the phone, pulled me back to reality. "THAT LYING, MANIPULATIVE-" She swore, a stream of colorful expletives. "She's wearing your bracelet! The one he said was bespoke for you! And he's letting her! That filthy rat!"

I heard a thud. "Sarah? What was that?"

"I just threw the damn gift basket he sent you across the office! A peace offering, he called it! A custom-designed bracelet, just like the one Britni's flaunting! He thinks he can buy you off with matching jewelry for his mistress!" Sarah's voice was shaking with rage. "I'm going to rip his face off."

"No, Sarah, don't," I said, my voice eerily calm. "It's not worth it. Let them dig their own graves."

"But this is outrageous! My team is ready to counter-attack! We have facts, Aurelia, real facts! We can expose them!"

"No," I repeated, firmer this time. "Not yet. Let them revel in their victory. Let them think they've won. And then, when the time is right, you drop the bomb. The full, unedited version."

"Are you sure about this, Aurelia?"

"I've never been more sure."

Just then, my phone chimed. A new tweet. From Chandler.

"Some people just can't handle truth. Others cling to the past. The house is mine, always has been. #MovingOn #NewBeginnings"

And attached? A scan of the deed. In his name. Only him.

My head swam. The house. Our house. The one I'd poured my heart and soul into. The one our families bought for us. He'd put it solely in his name, a "practicality" he'd called it, when we were young and naive. "Just to simplify things, Aurelia. It's for us, always. It's just a piece of paper."

My vision tunneled. Sarah's voice was a distant buzz. "Aurelia? Are you okay? He's implying you're trespassing in your own home!"

"Sarah," I said, my voice steadying, hardening. "Do you remember the Nest security camera I installed in the entryway? The one I put in after that small fire last year?"

"Yes... why?"

"It records everything. Sound and video. Clear as day." A cold, savage satisfaction bloomed in my chest. "It caught everything last night. Britni' s little tumble. His immediate accusation. His slap."

Sarah was silent for a moment, then let out a low whistle. "You're telling me... you have proof?"

"Undeniable proof," I confirmed. "I want you to release the footage. But not yet. Let them bury themselves deeper. Let them think they've won. And then, when the time is right, you drop the bomb. The full, unedited version."

"Are you sure about this, Aurelia?"

"I've never been more sure."

My phone buzzed with a text. Gene.

Gene: Saw the news. Are you okay? Anything I can do?

I looked at his message, then back at the screen, at Chandler's hateful tweet. No. Not yet. I didn't want to drag Gene into this, not when he was just a fresh, clean start. He deserved better.

Aurelia: I'm fine, Gene. Thanks for checking. I've got this.

I closed my phone. My heart was pounding, but it wasn't fear. It was anticipation.