The Little Finch Café smelled faintly of roasted hazelnut and cinnamon. The place was nearly empty, just a few students hunched over textbooks and a barista wiping down counters, unaware of the storm brewing in the corner booth.
Tracy leaned forward, her voice low but urgent. “Sophie, I don’t have much time. What do you know about Carter’s moves?”
Sophie’s fingers flew over her keyboard, pulling up files she’d been hoarding for weeks. Her expression hardened. “Carter’s more dangerous than you realize. He isn’t just sabotaging Alex’s deals—he’s orchestrating a media narrative. Articles planted. Gossip disguised as anonymous leaks. Social media accounts linked back to his people. He’s painting you as a fraud, Tracy. A gold-digger.”
The words hit harder than Tracy expected, even though par
