C
I answered on the third ring, voice smooth as silk, “Mr. Willoughby. What a surprise”
“Miss Lancaster…” Benjamin’s voice was calmer than I expected, but I could hear the strain beneath it. “I believe we need to talk.”
“Oh? About what?”
“About why you invested in my company”
I laughed lightly. “Is it so wrong to want to help?”
“No one invests millions without a reason.”
I smirked. “Maybe I just like a good gamble.”
Silence. He was studying me, searching for an answer I wouldn’t give.
Finally, he spoke. “Dinner.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Join me for dinner. If you want to be involved in my company, we should at least meet in person.”
I let the silence stretch, pretending to consider. “Fine. Send me the details.”
“I already did,”
I smiled. Of course, you did, Benjamin.
That night, I arrived fashionably late.
The restaurant was high–end, the type only CEOS and billionaires frequented. When I walked in, heads turned, whispers followed. My emerald dress clung to me in all the right places, commanding attention without needing to ask for it.
Benjamin stood as I approached, eyes darkening with something unreadable.
“Miss Romano.” He gestured to the seat across from him. “I appreciate you coming.”
I sat down gracefully, meeting his gaze head–on. “You don’t seem like the type to appreciate things, Mr. Willoughby.”
He smirked. “And you don’t seem like the type to throw money into a failing company without reason.”
I tilted my head. “Who said I think you’re failing?”
His smirk faltered just slightly.
The waiter came, taking our orders. Once he was gone, Benjamin leaned forward, his voice lowering. “Tell me, Miss Lancaster, what exactly is it that you want?”
I smiled. “I want to watch.”
He blinked. “Watch what?”
“You.” I sipped my wine slowly, letting the word sink in. “Your company. Your decisions.
Vour
loyalty”
Betrayal Wears My Crown
1/4 36.2%
74%
YOU. I sipped my wine slowly, letting the word sink in. Your company. Your decisions. Your… loyalty.”
His jaw tensed. “Loyalty?”
“I invest in people, Benjamin. Not just businesses. And I like to know who I’m dealing with.” His fingers tapped against the table, considering. “And if you don’t like what you see?”
I leaned in slightly, voice dropping into something softer, more dangerous. “Then I take back what’s mine.”
His pupils dilated just slightly. Fascination. Interest. Good. Leticia might’ve had his ring, but I had his attention. And soon, I’d have much more.
Over the next week, the media started whispering.
Articles about Leticia’s questionable past resurfaced. Old scandals, deleted photos, rumors she thought were buried–one by one, they leaked into the public eye.
Anonymous sources hinted at infidelities, secret lovers, things a respectable CEO’s fiancée shouldn’t have attached to her name.
And then came the letters. Benjamin received the first one at his office.
“Do you really know who you’re marrying?”
The second arrived at his home.
“Not all betrayals are done in the open.”
The third? Delivered straight to his hand at a board meeting.
“Watch her closely. She’s hiding more than you think.”
I wasn’t one to enjoy cheap entertainment. But watching Leticia slowly lose her mind?
Now that was a masterpiece.
I sat in my private suite, sipping on a glass of wine, as my phone lit up with the latest gossip articles.
“Leticia Monroe’s Hidden Past – The Socialite’s Scandals Resurface!”
“Rumors of Infidelity – Is Willoughby Industries‘ Future Mrs. as Loyal as She Claims?”
–
“Anonymous Letters Shake Benjamin Willoughby’s Trust – Who’s Behind the Mysterious Warnings?”
I smirked, scrolling through the comments.
“I knew she was sketchy. She’s too desperate to marry Benjamin.”
“Old money families don’t like skeletons in the closet… this engagement might not last.”
“Wasn’t there a rumor about her being involved in a scandal overseas? Can someone confirm?”
Oh, darling, they will soon.
The best part of it all? Leticia was cracking right in front of everyone.
The first sign was at a charity brunch–one of those dull, upper–class gatherings where
Chapter 8
2/4 37.5%
The base part of it all? Laticis was cracking right in front of everyone.
The first sign was at a charity Branch one of those dull, upper–class gatherings where women in overpricars dresses pretended to be saints while discussing their latest plastic surgeries
I attended, of course, dressed in a sleek, white ensemble that screamed power. And Leticia? She arrived late, her usual confident smile fight, her eyes darting around as whispers followed her
I sat at my table, lazily stirring my tea, watching her unravel
A journalist approached her with a polite smile. “Miss Monroe, I was wondering if you had any comment about the resurfaced articles regarding your time in Paris-”
1 don’t know what you’re talking about.” Leticia cut her off sharply, her grip tightening around her champagne glass
The journalist blinked. “Oh, well, there have been discussions about-”
1
“I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice was louder this time, sharp enough that the nearby quests paused their conversations.
Ah, the first public slip. How delightful
I leaned toward the women next to me, lowering my voice just enough. “Poor thing. She must be under a lot of stress lately”
The woman, a socialite with too much Botox, sighed. “Yes, but really… you’d think she’d handle it with more grace. No one likes a scandalous wife”
Exactly
The next incident was even better
It happened at a high–end boutique, one frequented by the city’s elite. I wasn’t even there–I didn’t have to be. The security footage was enough.
Leticia was shopping, or rather, trying to shop, when two women began whispering nearby.
“Did you see the article about her past? If even half of it is true…”
“Benjamin Willoughby must be rethinking things. He deserves better.”
Leticia turned, her face twisted in rage. “Do you have something to say to my face?”
The women blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”
“I’m sick of hearing rumors spread by jealous, pathetic nobodies.” Leticia’s voice was venomous. “I suggest you watch your mouths before you get killed by me.”
A threat. In public. The video was leaked within hours. And suddenly, Leticia Monroe wasn’t just a woman with a questionable past. She was unstable.
That night, as I sat in my penthouse, Evander my brcalled.
“She’s losing it.” His amused voice echoed through the speaker.
I smiled. “Took her long enough.”
