Arabella’s fingers hovered over the folder Damien had slid across the table. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, but one stood out among the rest—was this a trap?
She glanced up, meeting Damien’s cool, assessing gaze. “Why should I believe you?”
Damien leaned back in his chair, a slow smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Because you don’t have the luxury of doubt right now. You can either take this information and act, or wait until your father buries you.”
Her jaw tightened. He wasn’t wrong. Slowly, she reached for the folder and flipped it open.
Inside were documents—emails, financial records, and a detailed timeline outlining fraudulent activities supposedly linked to her name.
A cold dread settled over her.
This wasn’t just a smear campaign. This was a well-orchest
