Chapter 11: Vanessa’s Return
The Morning After the Gala
The internet was burning.
I sat at the massive marble island in the master kitchen, staring at the glowing screen of my tablet. My coffee had gone cold an hour ago.
Every major news outlet, tabloid, and social media platform was plastered with the same photo: Alessandro and me standing at the Met Gala, my hand wrapped in his.
But Vanessa Cole had not gone down quietly. Sometime around 3:00 AM, her PR machine had released a vicious, meticulously crafted counter-narrative.
THE MAID WHO STOLE THE BILLIONAIRE: INSIDE THE SCANDAL THAT BROKE NEW YORK’S ROYAL COUPLE.
I scrolled through the article, my stomach twisting into a sickening knot. Vanessa had given an "exclusive, tearful interview." She claimed that I was a manipulative homewrecker who had been seducing Alessandro behind her back for years. She painted herself as the heartbroken victim who had tragically miscarried her baby due to the "severe emotional stress" of discovering our affair.
She had weaponized the loss of a fictional child.
"Stop reading that trash."
A large, warm hand gently plucked the tablet from my fingers. Alessandro stood behind my chair, dressed in a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He tossed the tablet face-down onto the counter.
"They're calling me a gold-digger, Alessandro," I whispered, my throat tight. "They're saying I blackmailed you. That I coached Emma to ruin your life."
Alessandro walked around the island and poured himself a cup of coffee. He didn't look angry. He looked utterly, terrifyingly calm.
"Let them talk," he said, taking a sip. "A dying animal makes the loudest noise right before the end."
"But the public believes her," I argued, standing up. "Vanessa’s family has decades of goodwill in this city. If the board of directors sees this—"
"The board of directors answers to the bottom line, Clara, not the tabloids." Alessandro set his mug down and walked toward me, his dark eyes locking onto mine. He placed his hands gently on my shoulders. "Vanessa is playing checkers. She thinks a few bad headlines will force me into a settlement."
May you like
He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my temple.
"But I’m playing chess," he murmured against my skin. "And by noon today, the Cole family won't have a board to sit on."
