Emery reclined on the plush sofa in her elegantly furnished living room, her legs tucked beneath her, clad in a pair of soft gray sweatpants and an oversized white T-shirt. She looked out through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the cityscape, her mind elsewhere as she held her phone to her ear.
The voice on the other end of the line was tense. “We need to act fast, Emery. If those pictures get out—”
“I know, Austin. I’m trying from my end to find out who’s behind this whole thing. My team is close to identifying the culprit,” she responded, her tone calm yet firm, a glaring contrast to the panic in Austin’s voice.
Emery had always been composed under pressure, a trait that served her well in her high-society life. She lounged back against the cushions, running a hand through her loose w
