Chapter 3 - The Manhattan Retaliation
The rain slicked the asphalt of Madison Avenue, reflecting the neon glow of luxury storefronts as Victoria’s taxi pulled up outside her apartment building. She didn't go inside immediately. Instead, she sat in the back seat for ten long minutes, her hands clenched so tightly in her lap that her knuckles turned chalk-white.
The humiliation burned in her chest like acid. Seventy people. Seventy of the most influential people in the tri-state area had witnessed her downfall. They had seen her reduced from a poised, immaculate society bride-to-be to a gasping, cornered fraud.
Her phone buzzed in her designer handbag. She pulled it out. It was a text message from Chloe Vance, one of her primary contacts in luxury event planning and Arthur Vance’s niece:
“Vic, I heard what happened at the Carter estate. Oh my god. Are you okay? People are already talking.”
Victoria’s jaw tightened. People were talking. By morning, every corporate board room, country club, and PR firm from Greenwich to Wall Street would know that Victoria Collins had been publicly dumped by Daniel Carter after treating his mother like domestic help. Her business—her entire livelihood built on high-end social credibility—was dead in the water.
Unless she struck first.
She opened her contacts, scrolled past her blocked list, and tapped a number she hadn't called in over a year. It rang twice before a raspy, tobacco-stained voice answered.
"Collins. It’s late. You better have a good reason for waking me up."
"Marcus," Victoria said, her voice dropping into a smooth, calculated cadence that completely masked her inner panic. "I need a favor. A big one."
Marcus Thorne was a disgraced investigative journalist who made a living selling sensationalized, half-true exposés to digital tabloids and scandal rags. He had no ethics, no boundaries, and a deep-seated grudge against Northstar Systems for a libel lawsuit they had won against him three years prior.
"I'm listening," Marcus grunted, the sound of a lighter flicking echoing through the speaker. "What's the angle? Did Daniel Carter finally slip up?"
"Worse," Victoria lied smoothly, spinning a narrative designed to weaponize Marcus's existing hatred for the Carter family. "Daniel didn't just slip up—he orchestrated a massive, public humiliation scheme. For eleven months, he and his mother led me on under false pretenses. They hid her identity, forced me into psychological torture experiments under my own roof, and then ambushed me at my own engagement party to publicly ruin my reputation."
There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a low whistle. "Hold on. You're telling me the billionaire tech boy wonder and his reclusive mother ran a psychological op on you?"
"They trapped me," Victoria said, letting a tremor of feigned vulnerability crack her voice. "They watched me stress over every detail of that party while the mother played maid just to gather blackmail material. They wanted to destroy my business, Marcus. They wanted to make sure I couldn't survive in New York society."
Marcus was silent for a moment, weighing the value of the story. "Got proof? Photos, texts, anything?"
"I have the ring," Victoria whispered, touching the velvet box in her pocket. "And I have a story about corporate arrogance and psychological abuse that will blow Northstar Systems' upcoming public valuation right out of the water. Investors hate instability, Marcus. And Daniel Carter just proved he's unhinged."
"Meet me at the lounge on 44th street in an hour," Marcus said, the excitement palpable in his voice. "Bring everything you've got. If we time this right, we can drop the story right before the stock market opens on Monday morning."
"I'll be there," Victoria said.
May you like
She hung up the phone, looked at her reflection in the dark taxi window, and wiped away the last remaining tear. The fear was gone, replaced entirely by a venomous, calculating drive for revenge. If she was going down, she was going to take Daniel Carter and his precious mother down with her.
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