Chapter 8: The plan
1173 Words
Noah Blake walked into the penthouse like he owned the entire city. And maybe, in some ways, he did. Dressed in a sharply tailored charcoal suit with cufflinks that shimmered like stardust, he radiated power, purpose, and a quiet kind of wrath. The skyline behind him stretched like a canvas of opportunity, and yet his eyes burned with something personal.
Elena sat at the center table, her laptop open to a dozen tabs—all tied to one name: Subruk.
"You're late," she said, though her tone lacked bite. Her gaze lingered just a moment longer than usual. It wasn’t just the suit. It was the aura—the commanding, almost regal presence of a man used to having doors opened, people silenced, and enemies eradicated with a glance.
"I was finishing a call with my PI in Kenya," Noah replied coolly, pouring himself a glass of still water from the decanter beside the bar. "Subruk's media stooge has a weakness for offshore accounts and married women. We might have our entry point."
Elena closed her laptop slowly. "You're serious."
He leaned against the marble countertop. "I don’t joke when someone plays puppet master with my reputation. Or yours."
Elena’s chest tightened. For a moment, she forgot they were supposed to be pretending.
At the Carter household, chaos brewed in porcelain cups.
"You saw the blog, didn’t you, Helene? The one saying Noah and Elena are faking it all just for clout? Lies! Vicious lies!" Rosita Carter's voice vibrated over the phone as she adjusted the roses in the centerpiece bowl.
"Rosie, calm down."
"Calm down? They said Elena is a cover-up! That Noah might—might be into men and he’s using our daughter as a public cleanse!" Rosita hissed, checking to make sure Patricia wasn’t eavesdropping.
From the hallway, Patricia peeked. She was.
"That blog is disgusting. They don’t even sign with a name. Anonymous cowards."
"They even posted a nude video and edited the captions to make it look like Elena sent it to him for clout. It’s not even her. But who cares about truth? Scandals sell!"
Rosita sniffled, wiping a tear. "This family is not a circus, Helene. I won't have Elena being mocked for love—or worse, made a meme."
"Rosie, breathe. I’ll come over. I’ve been meaning to visit anyway. Let me come tonight."
"You will?"
"Yes. And I’ll bring Dena. She’s been dying to meet Patricia."
Elena was in her room when her mother rushed with her phone that day, “Elena, have you seen the news?” Her mother had asked earlier, terrified about the outcome.
Elena would never do anything to make her family feel uneasy and so she responded
“Don't worry mother, Noah and I are on it” she assured.
But that doesn't seem to convince her mother as she paced to and fro in fear in her room.
“By the way mom, I will be going over to Noah's place, we have some investigations to do, I checked on dad earlier to inform him but he was asleep “ Elena knew her mom wouldn't get this out of her thought even with her knowing she'd be at Noah's place for a while.
“Your Aunt Helen and Dena would be coming over later today,do you….” Elena cut her in between.
“Dena and I already spoke, I'll be home tomorrow too” she assured her mother as she closes her laptop to exit her room.
Back at the penthouse, Elena paced.
"We need to bring in someone who knows Subruk’s style of media manipulation," she said.
Noah’s gaze darkened. "I already have. Derek."
Elena blinked. "Derek? As in my Derek? The ex who ghosted me and cost me months of therapy?"
Noah smirked. "He was your mess. Now he’s our mole. He works for a media house that once partnered with Subruk’s firm. He’s the only one who knows the inside routes. And he owes me."
"What did you do?"
Noah sipped his water. "I bought his silence once. Now I’m cashing in."
That billionaire aura rolled off him in waves—cool, unapologetic, calculated.
Later that evening, Rosita opened the door with a gleaming smile.
"Helene! Finally! You should’ve seen the nonsense online. They’re making our girl look like a tramp and Noah like some fraud."
Helene stepped inside, her eyes scanning the newly painted living room. "Well, it looks like you’ve turned anxiety into a decorating frenzy."
"A mother's only weapon is action. Patricia, go help Dena with her bag!"
"Dena’s here?" Patricia walked down the stairs, spotting her cousin.
"Where's our superstar," Dena asked arms crossed. "She’s been trending for days. I brought cake."
They hugged tightly.
“She's at Noah's house but she promised to be back tomorrow to meet you“ Rosita explained.
"We have so much to talk about," Patricia Whispered to Dena.
“Come on everyone, there's food” Rosita made way to the dining.
Meanwhile, Isabel sat on her bed, phone in hand, reading the scandalous blog post again. Her heart twisted.
Noah deserves better than this, she thought.
She dialed. He picked up after two rings.
"Hey, Isa."
"This blog is vile. Who is doing this to us?"
"It’s Subruk and his media pet," Noah replied.
"Elena must be going through hell. Is she okay?"
"She’s holding up."
Isabel hesitated. "Maybe… maybe it’s time you proposed. Make it real. Shut them up."
Noah sighed. "That’s not part of the plan. Not yet."
"But if you like her, really like her…"
"I said not yet."
Isabel went quiet. Then she smiled softly. "Can I meet her soon?"
"Yes. I think it’s time
The next day, in a rooftop café above the city skyline, Noah waited at the corner table like a man out of a fashion magazine. Leather gloves on the table. Espresso untouched. The energy around him dared anyone to approach without purpose.
Derek arrived, nervous.
"You summoned."
"We need intel. Subruk’s next move. His financial trail. His leaker. Everything."
Derek scoffed. "Why should I help you?"
Noah slid a flash drive across the table. "Because if you don’t, the contents of this go to your boss. And your ex-fiancée."
Derek blanched. "You wouldn’t."
Noah leaned forward, voice low and icy. "Try me."
Derek swallowed hard. "Fine. I’ll get you what you need. But if this backfires—"
"It won’t," Noah said, standing up. "I’m not the one who gets sloppy."
---
By evening, Elena sat at her desk, watching footage from Subruk’s trial. Noah entered, dropped a thick folder next to her.
"Bank statements. Transaction records. Blog owner IDs."
"You got it all?"
"We’re making our move."
Elena’s heart thundered.
"And tomorrow," Noah said, his tone softer now, "you’ll meet Isabel."
Elena nodded. "I’d like that."
As she stared into his eyes, one truth loomed larger than the rest: what had started as make-believe was beginning to feel terrifyingly real.
And when billionaires decide to fight back—it’s never just a scandal. It’s war.
- Writer
