Chapter 315

Maya’s POV

The London headquarters of LUXE Jewelry Company was in absolute chaos. I’d just hung up with Serena after our emergency call about that Lance Draven asshole, and I was already exhausted. Rain pelted against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the conference room, matching my stormy mood perfectly.

"No, that statement is completely unacceptable!" I snapped, shoving the tablet back across the polished table. The PR team flinched collectively. "We’re not ’looking into these concerning allegations.’ That phrasing makes it sound like there might be truth to them!"

The PR director, a usually composed woman named Charlotte, cleared her throat. "Mrs. Quinn, with respect, we need to acknowledge—"

"What we need," I cut in, "is language that defends Serena without sounding defensive. Something like ’Dreamland Studio categorically rejects these false claims and is preparing evidence that will conclusively disprove all allegations.’"

My phone buzzed again—another Google alert for Serena’s name. The trending hashtags were multiplying by the minute. I scrolled through Twitter with growing horror.

"Jesus, they’re crucifying her," I muttered, rubbing my temples. "Someone’s clearly orchestrating this. The timing’s too perfect with the Quinn-Blackwood wedding announcement and our merger plans."

Charlotte exchanged nervous glances with her team. "Do you have any evidence of that?"

"Not yet." I admitted, standing to pace the room.

The conference room door opened, and Ethan strode in. Even in crisis mode, I couldn’t help noticing how commanding he looked in his tailored navy suit.

"Update?" he asked simply, loosening his tie.

I gestured toward the screens lining the wall, each displaying different social media platforms where the scandal was unfolding. "It’s spreading like wildfire. That nobody Lance Draven is getting exactly what he wanted—attention and victim status."

Ethan studied the screens, his expression unreadable. "Have we confirmed when Serena actually created those designs?"

"Her files have earlier metadata timestamps," I replied, "but proving his are fraudulent will be tricky without court-ordered access to his original files."

The PR team continued typing furiously, monitoring every mention and planning counter-strategies. I’d been at this for six straight hours, and the stress was making me nauseous.

"Everyone out," Ethan suddenly ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Take fifteen minutes."

The team scattered instantly, leaving us alone in the sleek conference room. As soon as the door closed, Ethan came behind me, hands gently massaging my shoulders.

"You need to calm down," he murmured against my ear. "This level of stress isn’t good for you."

I shrugged away from his touch. "How can you be so fucking calm? This is your sister we’re talking about! Her entire reputation—everything she’s built—is under attack!"

"And yelling at the PR team will solve that how exactly?" Ethan’s voice remained infuriatingly measured.

"At least I’m showing some emotion!" I spun to face him. "You’re acting like this is just another quarterly report that needs adjusting. This is Serena! Your sister who’s been through hell already!"

Something flashed in his eyes. "You think I don’t care? I’ve already got three separate teams investigating Lance Draven’s background. I’ve called in favors from industry contacts across Europe. I’ve spoken with Ryan twice this morning to coordinate our response."

I deflated slightly, crossing my arms. "Then why do you look so... unaffected?"

"Because one of us needs to keep a clear head," he said, softer now. "And clearly it’s not going to be you today."

"That’s not fair," I whispered, fighting back unexpected tears.

Ethan sighed, pulling me against his chest despite my resistance. "Maya, listen to me. Serena is stronger than you think.This won’t break her."

I relaxed into his embrace, finally letting the exhaustion show. "I just hate seeing her attacked like this. After everything..."

"I know." He kissed the top of my head. "But working yourself into collapse won’t help her. When’s the last time you ate?"

I honestly couldn’t remember. "Breakfast... maybe?"

"It’s nearly 5 PM," he chided. "We’re going home for dinner. The PR team can handle things for a few hours."

"But—"

"No buts. We’ll regroup tomorrow with fresh perspectives."

As we gathered our things to leave, my phone pinged with a message from our social media manager: "Urgent—new developments. Check your email immediately."

I quickly opened the attachment and felt my stomach drop. "Oh god, Ethan. Look at this."

The screenshot showed what appeared to be private messages between Serena and Lance Draven—but they were nothing like the polite, professional messages she’d told me she’d sent. These were aggressive, threatening:

[Back off now or you’ll regret ever crossing paths with the Blackwood family. We can destroy your career with one phone call.]

Attached was another screenshot of Lance’s reply:

[Is this how you handle being caught? With threats? The world deserves to know who you really are, Serena.]

"This is fabricated," I said immediately. "Serena would never write this."

Ethan’s expression darkened as he studied the images. "Doesn’t matter if it’s real. It’s out there now."

"We need to call her right away—"

"Not yet," Ethan interrupted, already typing on his phone. "I’m contacting our digital forensics team first. We need to prove these are fake before she even responds."

"The damage is already spreading," I argued, watching new notifications flood in. "We can’t wait!"

"Maya," Ethan’s voice was firm as he took my phone from my hands. "Trust me on this. Strategic silence for twelve hours won’t kill her reputation, but a hasty, emotional response might."

I wanted to argue more but knew he was right. This had moved beyond a simple PR crisis—someone was actively trying to destroy Serena.

"Fine," I conceded. "But I want our security team on high alert. If someone’s going this far to discredit her publicly, who knows what else they might try."

"Already done," Ethan replied, guiding me toward the elevator. "And I’ve got people digging deeper into Lance Draven. Something’s off about his sudden appearance."

In the car ride home, I scrolled through the avalanche of new comments condemning Serena. People who’d never met her were calling her a bully, a fraud, a typical entitled rich woman. The narrative was spinning completely out of control.

"I think we need to consider bringing in WhisperStream," I said quietly.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "James? Are you sure that’s wise?"

"He understands social media dynamics better than our entire PR department combined. And he owes me a favor."

"He’s unpredictable," Ethan warned.

"So is this situation," I countered. "We need someone who can fight fire with fire."