Affair Ruins Wedding Plan

I sat in my studio loft, staring at Ethan's message for longer than I should have. His unexpected kindness felt like a lifeline in the storm Marcus had created. Before I could respond, my phone buzzed with a notification from my building's security app. Someone was requesting access to my floor.

The security feed showed a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and a worn leather jacket that had seen better days. He looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one foot to another as he waited.

"Ms. Victoria?" he said when I answered the intercom. "Frank Russo. I need to speak with you about... a sensitive matter."

I hesitated before buzzing him up. When he knocked, I opened the door just enough to see him clearly.

"Mr. Russo, what can I do for you?"

He glanced nervously down the hallway. "May I come in? What I have to say shouldn't be discussed in a hallway."

I reluctantly let him enter, keeping the kitchen island between us.

"I'm a private investigator," he said, placing his business card on the counter. "Marcus Kane hired me to dig up dirt on you."

My stomach clenched. "And you're telling me this because?"

"Because I found something that made me terminate our contract immediately." He pulled out a folder. "At first, it was just routine background work. Then I noticed some financial discrepancies."

He laid out bank statements—my bank statements—with transactions that made no sense for a struggling designer. Wire transfers with too many zeros. Property tax payments on addresses I shouldn't have been able to afford.

"I kept digging," he continued, his voice dropping. "Until I found this."

He slid across a document bearing the Sterling Industries logo. My father's company. My name listed as majority shareholder.

"You're Harrison Sterling's daughter." His eyes met mine. "I've worked this city for thirty years, Ms. Sterling. I know what your father does to people who cross his family. I'm not stupid enough to be one of them."

I remained silent, watching him fidget.

"Kane doesn't know yet. I told him I needed more time." He stood. "Consider this my resignation from his case. And... a professional courtesy."

After he left, I sat motionless, staring at the scattered papers. My carefully constructed identity was unraveling. It was only a matter of time before Marcus discovered who I really was.

* * *

I'd avoided calling my father since the breakup, knowing his response would be some variation of "I told you so." But Frank Russo's visit left me no choice. I needed the protection only Harrison Sterling III could provide.

I didn't have to wait long. Less than an hour after our call, the private elevator to my loft activated. My father stepped out, impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit despite the late hour. His silver hair was perfectly combed, his expression unreadable as always.

"Victoria." His voice was soft, but it filled the room.

I hadn't realized how much I needed to see him until that moment. The facade I'd maintained crumbled as he opened his arms, and I was suddenly a little girl again, safe in her father's embrace.

"I should have listened to you," I whispered against his shoulder.

"Yes, you should have." He pulled back, studying my face. "But that's not why I'm here."

He gestured to the documents spread across my coffee table. "Tell me everything."

I did. The betrayal. The threats. The private investigator. With each word, I watched my father's expression harden from concern to cold fury.

"I've already dispatched our legal team," he said when I finished. "And security will be here within the hour. No one approaches you without clearance."

"I don't want to run, Dad. I'm done hiding."

He nodded, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Then we fight. The Sterling way."

I felt something shift inside me—the weight of pretense lifting, replaced by the steel that had always been my birthright.

"I'm reclaiming my life," I said. "All of it."

* * *

Across town, Marcus sat across from Amanda in a private dining room at Lucien, an exclusive East Village restaurant. Her hand rested protectively over her stomach as she showed him her phone.

"The ultrasound," she said, her voice trembling with practiced emotion. "Our baby."

Marcus stared at the grainy image, conflicting emotions warring within him. Guilt over Victoria. Panic over the pregnancy. And beneath it all, a growing desperation as his carefully controlled world spiraled away from him.

"I'll take care of everything," he promised, reaching for her hand across the table. "Both of you."

Neither noticed the discreet waiter snapping photos of their intimate moment, nor did they see him sending those images to Chloe Vanderbilt, who forwarded them immediately to me.

I stared at the pictures of Marcus and Amanda, his hand covering hers, their heads bent together in conspiracy. The final confirmation of his betrayal. But instead of pain, I felt only cold resolve.

Let him play his games. He had no idea who he was really dealing with.

And soon, very soon, Marcus Kane would learn exactly what it meant to cross a Sterling.