Beneath His Billionaire Mask

THE SCANDAL IGNITES LYNETTE’S POV I push open the glass door of Maison Royale with my usual mental checklist already running. The clients, emails, design, the presentation which was due by noon. It was nothing unusual. But the moment I stepped inside and everywhere went silent. It wasn't normal. The two interns in pencil skirts pause mid conversation, their eyes snapping to me. One whispers something behind her palm. The other glances at her phone, then at me, then walks away quickly. I blink…okay….weird. I adjusted the strap of my tote bag and kept walking, heels tapping too loud. Each step feels like it echoes through the hallway, and every pair of eyes seem to follow if. A group near the elevators stops talking entirely when I pass. What the hell? I check my reflection in the glass nearby. My hair was well done, my shirt was well ironed, lipstick was not smudged. I'm fine. Yet I felt strange like I knew something was wrong. I exhaled and continued. But it was more murmurs, more stares. Someone lifted their phone like they’re pretending to scroll, but the camera is pointed straight at me. A flash goes off. I flinch. “Seriously?” They scatter like pigeons. By the time I reached my floor, the tension was so thick, it could choke me. People keep glancing at their screen, then at me. My name was being whispered across the room. I swipe my badge and push into the open office. And head legitly turned. Olivia is the first person I see. Prefect. Her gaze drags over me slowly, like she was sizing me up. Then she gives me a tight smile. “Morning, Lynette.” I force back a smile. “Morning.” She tilts her head. “Interesting day to come in looking so…confident.” What is that supposed to mean? Before I can respond, a notification pings loudly from my phone, then another, then three more. Arianna must be having a meltdown already. I set my bag at my desk and unlocked my phone. My heart drops to my stomach. 34 messages 12 tags 19 mentions. I clicked the top one and there it is. My face on one of the most popular gossip blog in the f*****g country. Lynette Banks Spotted Leaving Club With Justin Hale: Secret Romance or Career Move? My breath stop. It was like I had been poured ice cold water. The article shows a blurry photo—someone who might be me stepping into a car. Justin, my boss, beside me. His hand maybe touching my waist….or maybe it was just bad angles. It was a phone taken far away, but it was enough to start something hot. My throat closes. “No….no, no.” I opened the comment section, and people were not holding back. “Not surprised. Girls like her always find shortcuts” “Justin always goes for the quiet ones.” “Maison Royale is about to have another scandal.” My ears ring. I wasn't at any club with Justin last night. I was home with Arianna, eating ramen and arguing over whether the landlord was a vampire. This is fake. I stared at the image until it blurs. My lungs start working again when my email notification chimes. HR DEPARTMENT– Mandatory Meeting Today at 4PM. Subject: Conduit Concern. A cold wave slams into me. HR? Conduct concerns? They think this is real? Before I can even think, Olivia slides beside my desk like she’s been waiting for this moment. “Rough morning?” She asks lightly. I swallow hard. “I don't know what's going on.” Her lips curved into a smile. “Oh, come on. You didn't see it coming?” Her voice drops. “Girls like you shouldn't get too comfortable around men like that. People might…misunderstand.” I stare at her. “girls like me?” She shrugs, pretending “you know. The newcomers, the dreamers. The ones who forget there are rules.” Hot tears ran through me, I was panicking and angry, “The article is fake.” “I'm sure,” she says with a smile that tells me she thinks I was lying. “But perception is everything here. Good luck at that HR meeting.” She leaves before I can respond, her heels clacking like an applause for her performance. My fingers shake, as I look across the room. This was the worst day of my life. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ By noon, whispers flow everywhere. No one says it to my face, but they stare. I could see cameras being pointed at me, people looking at their screen. People act like I'm nothing but a gold digger. My heart won't settle down. I try to focus on my work, but every time my phone buzzes, my heart jumps. I looked at my phone and it was Arianna. WHAT IS HAPPENING? WHY IS YOUR FACE ON EVERY BLOG??? CALL ME NOW OR I WILL SET SOMETHING ON FIRE. I text her back: Later. At work. HR meeting at 4. Don't freak out. Arianna: I’m already freaking out. Also I think the influencer Queenie Kay posed about you?? GET HOME ASAP. I sighed. By the time the clock hits four, my nerves are a frayed wire as I sit in the HR office. She didn't say much–just that they have received concerns and that I should avoid further incidents. She talked to me like I’ve already confessed. I walked out of the office feeling numb, confused and furious. Someone was trying to frame me and I had no idea who or why. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Arianna nearly jumped on me the second I stepped into the apartment. “Oh my God, finally!” She drags me inside and shuts the door. “You’re everywhere, Lyn. Everywhere. I have been refreshed since noon and the internet is having a mental breakdown.” “yeah, I know.” I muttered, dropping my bag and kicking off my heels. She holds up her phone. “It got worse.” She’s right. It was a post from Queenie Kay, the influencer with three million followers on twitter and hundreds million on tik tok. Her caption reads: LADIES, GUARD YOUR MEN. SOME PEOPLE HAVE NO SHAME. I lean closer. At the bottom of the post is a tiny sentence. PHOTO COURTESY OF A LOYAL FOLLOWER. I blink. “A follower? Not the paparazzi or a journalist?” “No,” Ariana says. “Someone sent the picture directly to her and that person told another blogger the same thing. It was planned.” Then it hits me. “Someone wanted her to post it.”