Chapter 2 - The Digital Guillotine
The fallout was faster than a wildfire. By the time I had descended into the master suite to change out of my champagne-soaked dress, the internet had already done its work.
I sat at the massive mahogany desk in my stateroom, wearing a simple cashmere sweater and linen trousers, watching the digital massacre unfold on my laptop. Because the livestream had been running when Cassandra assaulted me, the entire incident was recorded, clipped, and reposted across every social media platform on earth. The internet, which loves nothing more than the spectacular downfall of an arrogant bully, had completely turned on her.
My private phone buzzed. It was Marcus, my Chief of Public Relations in New York.
“Elena,” Marcus said, his voice a mixture of awe and panic. “Are you alright? We’re deploying the crisis management team, but frankly, you don't need them. The public is entirely on your side.”
“I’m perfectly fine, Marcus,” I poured myself a glass of sparkling water. “But I want a full dossier on Cassandra Vale on my desk by morning. Who pays her, who sponsors her, and who funds the lifestyle she was just bragging about on my yacht.”
“Consider it done,” Marcus replied.
By sunrise, the dossier was securely delivered to my inbox. Reading it over espresso on the private aft deck, I almost had to laugh. Cassandra was a masterpiece of modern deception. She didn't come from old money. She didn't even come from new money. Her entire life was a heavily leveraged illusion.
The glittering diamond necklace she wore on the livestream? Rented from a boutique in Paris. The luxury villa she claimed to own in Monaco? An Airbnb she had leased for three days using maxed-out credit cards. Even her three million followers were heavily padded with purchased bot accounts.
But the most interesting piece of information was her primary source of income. Cassandra’s biggest brand deal, the one that kept her afloat and paid for her first-class flights, was a two-million-dollar ambassadorship with Aura Cosmetics, an elite European beauty brand.
What Cassandra didn't know—because she clearly didn't do her research—was that Sterling Maritime Group didn't just own yachts. We owned a massive private equity firm that had recently acquired the parent company of Aura Cosmetics.
I picked up my phone and dialed the CEO of Aura.
“Good morning, Richard,” I said, watching the sun rise over the Mediterranean.
“Miss Sterling! What a pleasant surprise,” Richard answered nervously. “I assume you are calling about the... incident.”
“I am,” I said smoothly. “Cassandra Vale’s behavior last night violated every morality clause in your contract with her. She assaulted a woman on a live broadcast, completely unprovoked. I want her contract terminated immediately. Not tomorrow. Today. I want a public statement from Aura condemning her actions by noon.”
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“Of course, Miss Sterling. It will be done within the hour.”
I hung up the phone. Cassandra had ripped my dress because she thought I had no power. I was going to strip away every single luxury she possessed to show her what real power actually looked like.
