The photos hit the internet at 6 AM.
I wake up to my phone exploding. Texts. Calls. Emails. Notifications screaming for my attention like an alarm I can't silence.
Maya's calling. I answer.
"Please tell me you're seeing this," she says without preamble.
"Seeing what?"
"Check Page Six. Actually, check everywhere. It's everywhere."
I pull up my laptop with shaking hands. Google my name.
The first result makes my stomach drop.
"BILLIONAIRE'S KINKY REVENGE: Aria Sterling's Secret BDSM Deal with Ex-Lover Damien Cross"
There are photos. Grainy but unmistakable. Me and Damien through my apartment window. The angle's careful—nothing explicitly pornographic, but intimate enough that there's no mistaking what was happening.
The article's worse.
Sources close to the situation claim Sterling, 28, has been engaged in a 21-night arrangement with Cross, 32, forcing him to submit to her demands in exchange for not exposing his corporate crimes. The deal allegedly includes public humiliation, sexual control, and revenge for Cross's role in destroying Sterling's father's company three years ago.
"How did they—" I can't finish.
"Victoria," Maya says. "She leaked everything. The photos. The details. There are three other outlets running similar stories. TMZ has it. Business Insider has it. It's not just gossip anymore, Aria. It's news."
I scroll through the articles. Each one worse than the last. Each one painting me as either a scorned woman seeking twisted revenge or a sexual predator abusing her power.
Damien's not getting better treatment. They're calling him weak. Pathetic. A disgraced billionaire brought to his knees by the daughter of a man he destroyed.
None of them have the full story. The context. The complexity.
Just the scandal. The sex. The shame.
"My board's calling an emergency meeting," Maya continues. "Stellar Holdings' stock dropped three percent in pre-market trading. Clients are panicking. Investors are—"
"I know." I close the laptop. Press my hands against my eyes. "I know, Maya. I did this. I knew this could happen and I did it anyway."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Damage control. Schedule the board meeting for noon. Get our PR team on this. And..." I pause. "Find Damien. Make sure he's okay."
"Aria—"
"Please. Just find him."
She hangs up.
I sit there in my apartment—the same apartment that's now plastered across every gossip site in America—and try to breathe.
This is what I wanted, right? Exposure. Truth. Burning it all down.
So why does it feel like I'm drowning?
The Stellar Holdings board meeting is exactly as brutal as I expected.
Twelve faces around a conference table. All of them looking at me like I'm a liability instead of their CEO.
Robert Chen—the same man who was charmed by me at the gala a week ago—speaks first.
"Ms. Sterling." His voice is ice. "Would you care to explain what's happening?"
"I assume you've seen the news."
"We've all seen the news. What we haven't seen is an explanation. A strategy. Any indication that you're taking this seriously."
"I'm taking it seriously."
"Are you?" Another board member—Thomas Warren—leans forward. "Because from where we're sitting, it looks like you've been running a personal vendetta using company resources. Using your position of power to—" He stops. Clearly uncomfortable saying it out loud.
"To what?" I meet his eyes. "Say it. To seduce my ex-lover? To engage in a sexual arrangement? To abuse my power?"
"To compromise this company's reputation," Chen finishes. "Stellar Holdings has a spotless record. Your grandfather built this firm on integrity. And in three weeks, you've turned us into a punch line."
The words sting. Because he's right.
"The stock price is dropping," another board member adds. "Clients are calling for statements. There are already think pieces about whether a woman can be trusted with this kind of power if she's using it for personal revenge."
"That's sexist bullshit," I snap.
"Maybe. But it's bullshit that's costing us money. Costing us credibility." Chen stands. "We need you to issue a statement. Immediately. Apologize. Distance yourself from Cross. Assure our investors that this was an error in judgment that won't happen again."
"And if I don't?"
Silence.
"Ms. Sterling," Chen says carefully, "your grandfather left you this company. But the board has the power to remove you as CEO if we determine you're not acting in the company's best interests."
"You're threatening me."
"We're protecting our investment. There's a difference."
I stand. Walk to the window. Look out at Manhattan spreading below like a game board I'm losing.
"Give me forty-eight hours," I say without turning around.
"To do what?"
"To fix this. On my terms." I turn back. "You want a statement? You'll get one. But it's not going to be an apology. It's going to be the truth."
"The truth is what got us into this mess," Warren mutters.
"No. Incomplete truth is what got us into this mess. Leaked photos and gossip rags and Victoria Sterling's revenge fantasy." I lean on the table. "Give me two days. If I can't turn this around by then, I'll resign. Voluntarily. No fight."
They exchange glances. Weighing the offer.
"Forty-eight hours," Chen finally agrees. "And Ms. Sterling? For all our sakes, I hope you know what you're doing."
I don't. But I'm not telling them that.
Damien's engagement implodes on live television.
I'm in my office, trying to draft the statement that'll save my company, when Maya bursts in.
"Turn on Channel 4. Now."
I grab the remote. Flip to the news.
Victoria Sterling is giving a press conference outside her father's office building. She's wearing white—virginal, sympathetic—and there are actual tears streaming down her perfect face.
"...been betrayed in the most humiliating way possible," she's saying. "I thought Damien and I were building a life together. Planning a future. Instead, he was engaged in a sick, twisted arrangement with another woman. Using me as cover while he—" Her voice breaks convincingly. "While he submitted to her sexual demands."
The reporters eat it up. Questions flying.
"Are you calling off the engagement?"
"Absolutely. I deserve better than a man who would debase himself this way."
"What about the allegations that this was revenge for something Mr. Cross did years ago?"
"I don't know the details. All I know is that Aria Sterling used her power and her money to manipulate and control my fiancé. She's dangerous. And I hope the authorities look into whether this constitutes sexual coercion."
Sexual coercion.
My blood runs cold.
"She's accusing you of assault," Maya says quietly. "If she pushes this, if she actually files charges—"
"She won't." But I'm not sure. "It's posturing. She's playing the victim."
"She's winning." Maya sits down. Looks exhausted. "Aria, the optics are terrible. Wealthy woman blackmails ex-lover into sexual submission? Even with context, even with the truth about what Damien did to you, people are going to side with Victoria. She's the jilted fiancée. You're the other woman. The predator."
"I'm the victim," I say. "He destroyed my family."
"I know that. You know that. But right now? The world sees you as the villain."
My phone rings. Unknown number.
I answer anyway. "What?"
"Ms. Sterling?" A woman's voice. Professional. "This is Jennifer Oakes from the New York Times. I'm doing a piece on the allegations against you and I was hoping to get your comment—"
I hang up.
It rings again immediately. Different number.
"Ms. Sterling, Brad Thompson from CNN—"
Hang up.
Again.
"—gossip reporter from—"
Hang up.
"Turn off your phone," Maya suggests. "They've got your number. They're going to keep calling."
I silence it. Watch it light up with call after call after call.
"Where's Damien?" I ask.
"He's not answering. His office says he's unavailable. He might be with lawyers. Or hiding. Or—" She stops. "Aria, he might be turning on you. To save himself."
"He wouldn't."
"Wouldn't he? His engagement just imploded on national television. His reputation is destroyed. His company's board is probably having the same conversation ours just had. He might throw you under the bus to survive."
She's right. He might. I would, in his position.
But something in my gut says he won't.
"Find him," I tell Maya. "I don't care how. Just find him."
She leaves.
I'm alone with my thoughts and the phone that won't stop ringing and the news coverage playing Victoria's tears on loop.
This is my fault. All of it.
I wanted revenge. I got it. Along with public humiliation, professional ruin, and the very real possibility of criminal charges.
Congratulations, Aria. You destroyed him. And yourself in the process.
My computer pings. Email from another unknown sender.
Subject line: YOU'RE GOING TO WANT TO SEE THIS.
I shouldn't open it. Should delete it immediately.
I open it.
Inside: A link to another article. This one hasn't posted yet—it's a draft, watermarked EMBARGOED UNTIL 6PM.
The headline makes my heart stop.
"Before the Billions: Aria Sterling's Secret Past as High-End Escort"
The article details everything. The months after my father's death. The bankruptcy. The escort service I worked for. Client testimonials. Photos—God, there are photos. Nothing explicit, but enough. Me at dinner with older men. Me entering hotels. Me looking young and desperate and nothing like the powerful CEO I am now.
They even have a quote from the agency owner:
"Aria was one of our best girls. Professional. Discreet. Very popular with our executive clientele. She did what she needed to do to survive. No shame in that."
There's a note at the bottom of the email:
This goes live in four hours unless you publicly apologize, end your arrangement with Cross, and resign from Stellar Holdings. Your choice. —V
Victoria.
Of course it's Victoria.
She didn't just want to destroy my relationship with Damien or ruin my reputation. She wanted to strip away everything. Every layer of dignity. Every pretense of power.
She wanted to expose the scared, desperate girl underneath the CEO mask.
And she's about to succeed.
I stare at the screen. At my past. At the choices I made to survive.
I'm not ashamed of what I did. I needed money. I needed to eat. I needed to not become another statistic.
But I know how this'll play. The headlines. The think pieces. "Billionaire CEO's Secret Sex Work Past." "From Escort to Executive: Aria Sterling's Rise to Power." "Can We Trust a Woman Who Sold Her Body to Lead a Billion-Dollar Company?"
The board will force me out. Clients will flee. Everything I've built in three weeks will evaporate.
Unless I give Victoria what she wants.
Unless I surrender.
My phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number:
Four hours, Aria. Then the world knows everything. Choose wisely. —V
I look at the clock. 2:17 PM.
The article drops at 6.
I have less than four hours to decide: Fight or surrender. Truth or survival. Everything or nothing.
And I have no idea which one to choose.