Chapter 23
May 30, 2025
Celene’s POV
BREAKING: Monroe Heiress Implicated in Fraud Scandal. Internal Leak Tied to Mara Monroe’s Credentials.
The headline hit before I even finished my coffee. By 9:12 a.m., the news had spread across every financial outlet, gossip blog, and board member inbox. Half of New York was ready to bury me. The other half wanted front-row seats. By 10:00 a.m., I was standing at the head of a boardroom table, surrounded by men in cufflinks who once toasted to my promotion, now whispering like I’d stolen the crown jewels.
“Let me be clear,” I said, voice sharper than I felt. “I didn’t leak anything. I didn’t fake those numbers. And I sure as hell didn’t risk this company’s reputation.”
Director Wallace adjusted his tie. “And yet, Ms. Monroe, your access ID was used. The leak traces back to your internal account.”
“I don’t care what the trail says,” I snapped. “Someone set me up.”
Another board member, Patel, sighed. “Intentional or not, this is a reputational crisis. The damage is done.” They were preparing to vote. I could see it in their eyes. I glanced toward the glass doors, hoping for one more hour, one more strategy, one more miracle.
“My daughter,” a voice said from behind me. My father. Fernand Monroe stepped into the room like the storm he was born from. He stood beside me, eyes sweeping the boardroom with practiced calm. “She will have seventy-two hours to investigate and respond. Any vote of impeachment before that is premature.” No one argued. Not because they agreed. But because no one argued with him.
I stepped out of the room with my pulse hammering in my ears. I made it to my office before the panic hit. I gripped the edge of my desk and forced myself to breathe. Don’t crack, they want you to crack. This isn’t new. Just bloodier. I was two seconds from calling legal again when the door opened. Damon. His eyes scanned me in a split-second, reading everything I tried not to show.
“Celene,” he said, stepping in, “I know who’s behind this.”
I looked up. “Who?”
“Bianca. And Vivian.”
My heart stopped.
“Are you sure?”
“They’ve been working with a board member. I overheard them two nights ago at The Whitney Club. They planned it all, fake files, fake trail, timed to drop after the gala.”
My hands curled into fists. “Do you have proof?”
His jaw flexed. “No. Just their voices behind frosted glass and a bad gut feeling.”
“That’s not enough,” I said quietly. “You know it’s not.”
“I know,” he replied. “But it’s coming. I’ll find it.” Before I could respond, another knock. Firm. Too confident to be ignored. The door opened before I said a word. Rhys walked in. Of course. Because this day wasn’t done trying to ruin me.
“Unless you’re here to finish what your mother started-” I began.
“I’m not,” he said, stepping forward. “I’m here to stop it.”
