Chapter 7

The air pressure inside the top-floor boardroom of the West Corporation headquarters was dangerously low.

Dalton sat at the head of the massive mahogany table. His face was carved from stone.

A massive holographic screen dominated the far wall, scrolling rapidly through live data from Twitter, Instagram, and every major gossip forum in the country.

Eleanor Vance, the Director of Public Relations, pushed her gold-rimmed glasses up her nose. Her hands shook slightly as she read from her tablet.

"Sir, the photo is blurry, but the internet is already crowdsourcing her identity," Eleanor reported nervously. "They are analyzing the brand of the coat and her physical proportions."

She swiped her screen, bringing up a screenshot on the main board. "Someone already identified the coat as your custom piece. There is currently a hundred-thousand-dollar bounty for anyone who can provide her real name."

Dalton's index finger tapped against the polished wood table. Tap. Tap. Tap. Every strike made the executives in the room flinch.

Eleanor swallowed hard and offered the standard corporate playbook. "I suggest we use a cold treatment. Ignore it. Or we issue a brief statement calling it a misunderstanding."

She looked at the financial data on her screen. "If we confirm an engagement, the stock price will fluctuate. The board hates uncertainty regarding the heir's marriage."

Dalton's finger stopped tapping. He raised his dark, piercing eyes and stared at Eleanor.

"No."

He stood up. His tall frame cast a long shadow over the table. He walked toward the holographic screen and pointed a long finger directly at the blurry photo of Audriana.

"Deploy every media asset we own," Dalton ordered, his voice leaving absolutely no room for debate. "Crush the trending topics. Wipe them off the servers."

He turned to the head of IT. "Block every search keyword related to her physical description."

Eleanor's jaw dropped. She stared at him in disbelief. This level of capital mobilization was reserved for national-level corporate disasters, not a tabloid rumor.

"Mr. West," Eleanor pleaded, trying to inject reason. "Burning this much capital for an unidentified woman is highly irrational-"

Dalton snapped his head toward her. His eyes were like drawn blades, slicing right through her.

"She is not an unidentified woman," Dalton said, pronouncing every word with lethal precision. "She is my future wife."

A collective gasp echoed around the boardroom. The executives finally understood. The tyrant had drawn his bottom line.

Eleanor immediately dropped her gaze. "Understood, sir. Executing now."

Dalton wasn't finished. "If any media outlet continues to dig into this, trigger the legal department. Hit them with bankruptcy lawsuits under the Bankruptcy Code. Bury them in litigation."

"Meeting adjourned," Dalton snapped.

The executives scrambled out of their leather chairs, wiping cold sweat from their foreheads as they rushed out to execute the insane orders.

Only Simon remained in the room. He walked up to Dalton and handed him a thin manila folder.

"Her background check, sir. Including her class schedule at Columbia University and her daily routine."

Dalton opened the folder. His eyes scanned the pages. He saw the three part-time jobs she worked. He saw the medical bills for Kimora's eyes. His chest tightened painfully.

In his past life, he had thought she was just another gold digger. He had never bothered to look at the crushing weight she carried on her small shoulders.

He closed the folder. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing the suffocating guilt back down into his gut.

"Call the best ophthalmologist at Johns Hopkins," Dalton ordered Simon. "Get them to New York."

Dalton's private cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out. The caller ID showed the head of the West family elders. They were calling about the engagement rumors.

A cruel, mocking smile touched Dalton's lips. He hit the red decline button.

He grabbed his suit jacket off the back of the chair. It was time to deal with Cordelia.