Chapter 5 First Counterattack

Eleanor sat at the sleek glass dining table in their penthouse, her fingers tracing the rim of a wine glass as the city skyline glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The scent of roasted lamb and rosemary filled the air, a dinner meticulously prepared by their private chef-meant to be shared with Cedric at Le Jardin tonight. But the cancellation of the board meeting had upended those plans, leaving Cedric stranded in a flurry of urgent calls and damage control. She suppressed a smile, her heart thrumming with the thrill of her latest move.

The board meeting's abrupt end had been a spark; now, she was about to ignite a fire.

Earlier that day, while Cedric was distracted with irate investors, Eleanor had finalized her first true counterattack. From a burner phone purchased in cash at a corner store, she'd sent an anonymous tip to a prominent financial blog, The Ledger. The tip was carefully crafted-a subtle leak about "irregularities" in Varnholt Enterprises' recent financial reports, hinting at overstated profits to lure investors. It wasn't a fatal blow, just enough to stir media buzz and raise eyebrows among shareholders. The files she'd copied from Cedric's server provided the backbone, but she'd stripped away any trace of her involvement, routing the email through an encrypted service. The blog had pounced, publishing a speculative piece by mid-afternoon titled Varnholt Enterprises: Cooking the Books?

Now, as she waited for Cedric to return, her tablet lay open on the table, the article's headline glowing on the screen. Social media was already alight with chatter-analysts questioning the company's stability, investors demanding transparency. It was chaos, but controlled chaos, and Eleanor felt a surge of power knowing she'd orchestrated it. This was her first strike, a test of her resolve, and it felt good.

The elevator doors hissed open, and Cedric stormed in, his tie loosened, his face a storm of frustration. He tossed his briefcase onto the couch, barely glancing at her. "What a disaster," he muttered, running a hand through his dark hair. "First the board meeting, now this nonsense in the press. Absolute nonsense."

Eleanor tilted her head, her expression one of practiced concern. "What's happened?" she asked, her voice soft, the perfect imitation of the devoted wife she'd once been. Inside, her pulse raced with anticipation.

He paced, his shoes clicking against the hardwood. "Some hack at The Ledger published a hit piece claiming we've been fudging our numbers. It's baseless, of course, but the timing couldn't be worse. The investors are already on edge after your little stunt with the board meeting." His tone carried a barb, but he didn't meet her eyes, too consumed by his own irritation.

"My stunt?" She raised an eyebrow, keeping her tone light, almost playful. "I made a strategic call, Cedric. The board was unprepared, and I wasn't about to let us walk into a mess."

He snorted, pouring himself a scotch from the bar cart. "Strategic. Right. Well, now we've got a bigger mess. I've spent all day putting out fires, and Marianne's been hounding me about rescheduling the meeting." He took a swig, grimacing. "I should've been at Le Jardin with you tonight, not dealing with this."

Eleanor's lips curved into a faint smile, one she quickly masked by sipping her wine. Oh, Cedric, you have no idea. "I'm sorry it's been such a rough day," she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "But you'll handle it. You always do."

He glanced at her, his expression softening slightly, as if her words had soothed his ego.

"Yeah, well, I'd better. This kind of rumor can tank our stock if it gets out of hand." He sank into the chair across from her, loosening his collar. "We'll need to issue a statement, maybe hold a press conference. Marianne thinks-"

"Marianne thinks a lot, doesn't she?" Eleanor interjected, her tone still sweet but edged with something sharper. She leaned forward, her eyes locking with his. "Maybe it's time you relied less on her and more on your wife."

Cedric blinked, caught off guard, but then chuckled, mistaking her barb for jealousy. "Come on, Ellie. She's just trying to help. You know how much we owe her for keeping things smooth with the investors."

Smooth. The word was a bitter echo of Marianne's betrayal, her secret meetings with Cedric, her role in Eleanor's downfall. Eleanor's grip on her glass tightened, but her smile remained flawless. "Of course," she murmured, leaning back. "I just want what's best for us."

He nodded, oblivious, and reached for his phone, already distracted by another incoming call. As he stepped away to answer it, Eleanor's gaze drifted to the television in the corner, where a news channel was discussing the Ledger article.

The anchor's voice was crisp, speculative: "Varnholt Enterprises faces scrutiny after reports of financial discrepancies. Sources suggest the company may have inflated profits to attract investors..."

Eleanor's smile widened, genuine this time. The buzz was growing, just as she'd planned. The leak was mild enough to avoid immediate legal repercussions but potent enough to rattle Cedric's carefully curated image. She watched the ticker scroll, her heart pounding with a mix of exhilaration and vindication. This was only the beginning.

****

In her previous life, Eleanor had sat in this same penthouse, watching similar news reports with dread, not triumph. The gala on April 17, 2024, had been the first crack in her world, but the board meeting a week later had shattered it.

Cedric had presented a polished report, subtly blaming her for "mismanagement" while taking credit for the company's successes. The investors had lapped it up, their whispers growing louder: "She's not cut out for this." "Cedric's the real leader." Marianne had been there, her smile radiant as she circulated among the board, planting seeds of doubt about Eleanor's stability.

By the time the financial scandals hit-leaks Cedric had orchestrated to deflect blame-Eleanor's reputation was in ruins. She'd been too naive to see the setup, too trusting to question the numbers. The memory of her humiliation, the sting of those pitying looks, had burned in her final moments as she bled out on the ballroom floor.

****

Now, as Cedric paced in the next room, barking orders into his phone, Eleanor felt the weight of that memory shift. She wasn't the victim anymore. She was the one pulling the strings, and the irony was delicious-Cedric, oblivious to her hand in the scandal, was scrambling to fix a problem she'd created. Her vow echoed in her mind: I will ruin you both. This leak was her first step, a warning shot across his empire.

She stood, smoothing her silk blouse, and crossed to the kitchen, where the chef had left dessert-a pair of chocolate tarts, untouched. She plated one, her movements deliberate, and returned to the table, her composure unshakable. Cedric ended his call and rejoined her, his face still etched with frustration.

"Any luck?" she asked, sliding the tart toward him, her voice all warmth.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. "The PR team's drafting a response, but it's a mess. Whoever leaked this knew exactly how to stir the pot." He took a bite of the tart, oblivious to the irony. "I'll need to meet with the board tomorrow, assuming they don't all jump ship."

"You'll figure it out," she said, her smile serene as she watched him eat. "You're Cedric Varnholt, after all." The flattery was a mask, one she wore effortlessly. Inside, she was cataloging his every word, every flicker of stress. He didn't suspect her-not yet. His arrogance was her greatest weapon.

As he rambled about damage control, Eleanor's thoughts drifted to her next move. The meeting with Julian Kane was tomorrow, a critical step in building an alliance against Cedric. The financial files she'd copied held more damning evidence-offshore accounts, siphoned funds-but she'd need Julian's expertise to expose them without implicating herself. And Marianne... her confrontation at the café had revealed her unease. Eleanor would push harder, find the cracks in her facade.

The television droned on, the anchor now interviewing a financial analyst who questioned Varnholt Enterprises' leadership. Cedric glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing, his focus back on his phone. Eleanor watched him, her smile unwavering, her heart alight with purpose. The news was her symphony, and she was the conductor.

She leaned back, sipping her wine, the city lights reflecting in her eyes. Cedric thought he was still in control, but he was wrong. The first counterattack had landed, and the war was just beginning.

To be continued...