The morning after the gala, Celeste woke to a phone buzzing insistently beside her on the nightstand. Damien was still asleep, arm draped loosely across her waist. She slipped out from under the covers and padded across the penthouse to the kitchen, answering the call as she poured coffee into a mug.
"Celeste," Mia's, voice said in a sharp tone, "three of your brand partners are pausing campaigns. One has pulled entirely."
Celeste closed her eyes. "Because of the photo?"
"Not just the photo. There’s a new round of anonymous claims about Damien, whispers about how his acquisitions tanked a few indie companies, people claiming he forced them out of business, crushed them. It’s all over the backchannels. Someone is spreading this with precision."
"Veronica or her brother."
"Or someone pa
