Chapter 9 – Game of Revenge
Elara didn't sleep that night.
The photographs remained spread across the glass table like a silent warning. Her mind raced with images—Liam's smug smirk, the strange man by his side, Damian's cold confession that it had all been calculated.
That she had been calculated.
And yet, the ache in her chest wasn't from betrayal.
It was from doubt—doubt about whether she was still just a pawn in Damian's empire… or something more.
By sunrise, Elara had made a decision.
She wasn't waiting to be protected anymore.
She was going to protect herself—and strike back.
At eight a.m., Elara stood in Simone's office.
The assistant blinked, startled to see her so early and so direct.
"I want everything you have on Liam Dawson," Elara said, her tone crisp. "Background checks, employment history, financials, surveillance logs—everything."
Simone arched a brow. "That's not standard protocol, ma'am."
"I'm not asking as your employer's wife. I'm asking as a partner in this company. Damian made it clear I'm not a bystander anymore."
There was a pause.
Then Simone reached for her tablet. "You'll have it in two hours."
At ten-thirty, Elara sat at the head of a private conference room in VossTech's security floor, scrolling through an encrypted drive.
Liam had lied about almost everything.
He'd never worked freelance. He'd been on Monroe's payroll since before he met her. A fake identity. A rented apartment under a false name. And worst of all—he'd accessed classified internal documents using her employee credentials during their relationship.
She had been the gateway.
Not just emotionally—but digitally.
Her hands clenched.
"I let him in," she whispered.
And now, she would be the one to shut him out—permanently.
Damian entered the conference room an hour later, dressed in his usual charcoal suit, expression unreadable.
"You're digging through surveillance logs now?" he asked.
"I'm cleaning up your mess," Elara replied.
He didn't flinch. "You think this is my mess?"
"You allowed Liam to stay close, Damian. You let him linger around my life like a shadow."
"I didn't have a choice."
"You always have a choice."
He stepped closer. "And what are you doing now? Choosing to fight back?"
"No," she said. "I'm choosing to end it."
Damian's brow furrowed. "How?"
Elara stood and tapped the screen.
"I'm sending an anonymous dossier to the media. Everything about Monroe's illegal activities. Every time he used fake identities to infiltrate your company. Every piece of evidence tied to Liam."
Damian stiffened. "You'd trigger a scandal."
"I'd expose the truth."
"Monroe won't go down easily. He'll retaliate."
"Let him," she said, voice calm. "I'm not scared of powerful men anymore."
Damian stared at her.
And in that moment, something in his expression cracked.
Not frustration.
Not anger.
Pride.
"You're not the same woman I married," he said softly.
"No," Elara agreed. "I'm the version you didn't see coming."
He stepped even closer, voice low. "And what happens when the truth turns bloody? When you're targeted for revenge?"
"I won't be alone," she said. "Not if you mean what you said—that I'm your partner now."
Their eyes locked.
And Damian, for the first time, nodded.
"You have my protection," he said. "Unconditionally."
That evening, the dossier was released anonymously to three independent news outlets.
Within hours, headlines began exploding across finance and tech media:
"Billionaire Rival Garrett Monroe Exposed in Corporate Espionage Scandal"
"Whistleblower Data Links Monroe Enterprises to Internal Leaks at VossTech"
"CEO's Wife's Ex-Boyfriend Implicated in Data Breach Plot"
Social media exploded.
Investors began pulling from Monroe's fund. Stock prices tanked.
By midnight, Monroe was on the defensive, scrambling to issue statements and deny involvement.
But it was too late.
The war had already begun—and Elara had fired the first shot.
Back at the penthouse, Damian poured her a glass of wine and handed it over like an offering.
"You were brutal," he said.
"I learned from the best."
They sat together on the balcony, the city buzzing beneath them. This time, there was no tension. Only something deeper.
Understanding. Respect.
Damian turned toward her.
"You could've run," he said. "Most people would have."
She met his gaze. "I'm not most people."
He leaned in, slower this time. No fire. No control. Just intent.
Their lips met—not in a collision, but in a promise.
When they pulled apart, he whispered, "You terrify me."
She smiled. "Good."