Darla took a slow sip, savoring the dryness on her tongue.
She had heard the gossip. The headlines. That ridiculous kiss video. The public swooning over the "power couple" that Logan and Jean had beco.
Disgusting. How could she be with that low life?
Jean had always been reckless, but now she was blatantly embarrassing the family na. And Derek... useless as ever... refused to intervene. Even Alex, for all his bark, was fumbling to salvage what was left of their reputation.
No matter.
Darla never relied on n.
She had plans. Quiet, effective plans.
Susan was a risk, yes, but a manageable one. The girl was desperate, naïve, and greedy... the easiest kind to control. By the ti Jean realized the damage to her upcoming launch, it would be too late.
Her competitors would already be two steps ahead.
Jean would fall.
Not from fire. Not from scandal. But from slow, choking failure.
And the world would watch.
Darla walked toward her grand piano and tapped a single key, letting the note echo in the emptiness.
"You always thought you were stronger than , Jean," she murmured, almost to herself. "But strength isn’t in fists. It’s in power. And I’ve always had more of it than you."
She raised her glass again.
To victory.
________________________
The upscale café was nestled between boutique shops and gallery fronts... a quiet spot for private etings. Darla chose it for its elegance, but also for its discretion.
She was already seated, perfectly poised with a cappuccino in front of her, when Susan arrived looking... appropriately ashad. Darla smiled coolly, not rising to greet her.
"You took your ti."
Susan sat down quickly, lowering her eyes.
"I had to be careful. After last night... soone might be watching."
"They’re always watching," Darla said, sipping her drink. "The key is to be smarter than them."
Unseen behind a leafy divider on the adjacent patio, Hannah Kingsley crouched with her phone, cara rolling, earbuds in to hear Susan through the tiny mic clipped inside her jacket.
Jean had been clear: "We don’t need rage. We need proof."
Now they were getting it.
Susan shifted nervously in her seat. "I brought the drive like you asked." She tapped her bag gently. "But... I’m curious. What exactly are you going to do with it?"
Darla raised an elegant brow, amused. "Getting brave now, are we?"
Susan offered a nervous smile. "I just want to know what I helped accomplish." She leaned forward, playing the part. "You said it would ’change the industry.’ That it would crush Jean’s montum."
Darla’s fingers tapped the rim of her cup. She looked pleased... proud even.
"Oh, sweetheart. It won’t just crush her montum." She leaned in, voice dripping with venom. "It will bankrupt her next launch. Her trust with investors will nosedive. Her brand will crumble from the inside, and she’ll lose everything she built... without us."
Susan swallowed. "But she’s your daughter. Aren’t you supposed to support her?"
Darla’s expression didn’t waver. "She stopped being my daughter the day she humiliated . The day she chose a bastard like Logan Kingsley over her blood."
On the patio, Hannah covered her mouth, shaken and still filming.
Darla took a final sip of her drink, dabbing her lips with a napkin.
"You did well, Susan. I’ll contact Diane Von tonight. Once she gets those files, it’s over."
She stood gracefully.
"Good girls get rewarded. Traitors get ruined. Always rember that."
And with that, Darla walked off, heels tapping like nails in a coffin.
Susan remained seated, shaking slightly.
Hannah rose from her crouch posture, breath uneven... her phone still recording the final seconds of the scene.
She got everything.
________________________
The rain had just started when Hannah burst through the front door, soaked, breathless, and shaking with sothing far more intense than the cold.
Logan looked up from the couch instantly. Jean, sitting with a blanket over her legs and papers in hand, dropped everything the second she saw her sister-in-law’s face.
"Hannah?"
"I got it," she said, her voice thick. "You need to see this. Both of you."
They followed her into the living room, Logan closing the curtains while Jean sat forward, already clutching a throw pillow like a shield.
Hannah pulled out her phone, tapped the video file, and placed it on the table. The screen flickered to life.
Darla’s face filled the fra.
Calm. Controlled. Cruel.
"It will bankrupt her next launch... Her brand will crumble from the inside, and she’ll lose everything she built... without us."
"She stopped being my daughter the day she humiliated ."
Jean didn’t blink.
Not once.
She just stared.
As if hearing it aloud made it real in a way she never wanted to admit.
Logan didn’t take his eyes off her... not the video. Not Darla. Just Jean.
Hannah’s jaw clenched as she ended the video and snatched the phone back like it burned her.
"She’s your mother," she snapped, the words trembling with fury. "How can soone say that about their own child? What kind of person does that?"
Silence.
Jean’s voice ca out soft. "The kind who’s always been like this."
Logan’s hands curled into fists on his knees.
He had no words. Only thoughts he never dared voice until now. What kind of childhood did Jean even have?
How many quiet battles had Jean fought that no one ever noticed?
How many birthdays are ruined with lectures?
How many dinners were spent being judged, not fed?
Logan looked at her... this woman he once thought cold, fierce, unreachable and realized she had simply been unprotected her entire life.
And yet, she still rose. Alone. Strong. Barely scarred on the surface.
"She’s not a mother," Hannah muttered. "She’s a monster in pearls."
Jean gave a hollow laugh but it didn’t reach her eyes.
"Don’t cry for , Hannah." Her voice was steady now. "This is her ti to cry now. She’s the one who needed saving."
Logan swallowed hard.
And without another word, reached for her hand.
Not out of pity.
But reverence.
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