The upscale rooftop lounge of the Langford Hotel buzzed with Manhattan's elite—art dealers, tech founders, gallery owners, and creative directors all mingling under the fairy lights. But none of that mattered to Camille Blake, who was perched on a velvet chaise in her red Valentino dress, champagne flute in hand and venom in her eyes.
Across the room, Ava Hart, the weaselly creative director, practically sprinted over when she saw Camille.
"Miss Blake," Ava gushed, bowing her head slightly like a dog begging for a treat, "I executed everything exactly how you said. That washed-up intern will never get another shot in this industry."
Camille's red lips curved into a smile. "Nice work."
Ava leaned in closer. "If there's any chance of arranging an introduction to Mr. Blake—well, I'd consider it the opportunity of a lifetime."
Camille gave her a pointed look. "Stick close, and doors will open. Just know which ones to knock on."
But just as she raised her glass to toast her temporary lackey, her gaze caught something across the lounge.
There, standing with effortless poise beside Julian Monroe—the notoriously sleazy CEO of Monroe Studios—was a figure Camille would know anywhere.
Sienna Blake.
Her half-sister. Her threat.
Camille's expression darkened. "What the hell is she doing here?"
Ava followed her gaze and squinted. "Isn't that Monroe? Guess he found himself a new toy."
Camille's voice was ice. "That's Sienna."
Ava blinked, then swore under his breath. "Didn't recognize her without the broken glasses and depressing wardrobe. Damn. That dress is doing her some serious favors."
Camille's hand clenched around the stem of her flute. "She's working Monroe. Probably leveraging something."
"She got to him first," Ava muttered, bitterly. "If she flips the narrative tonight, we're screwed."
"Then don't let her." Camille shot him a sharp look. "Fix it. Make her look like trash."
Ava's grin returned. "Leave it to me."
Sienna had just gotten what she came for—video evidence from Monroe's private lounge that clearly implicated Ava and Julian in a deliberate character assassination against her.
She was almost to the exit when chaos found her first.
A shrill voice cut through the chatter. "You home-wrecking bitch! How dare you seduce my husband?!"
Sienna turned just in time to see a manicured woman in designer heels barreling toward her.
Instinct kicked in. Sienna dodged the first swipe, then the second, backing toward the bar.
"What the hell is going on?" she managed.
But the woman wasn't listening.
"You thought you could use stolen designs to climb into my husband's bed?" she screamed. "You think Julian would leave me for someone like you?"
Gasps filled the lounge.
Camille had rejoined the crowd, watching smugly from the sidelines. "Well, well," she said loudly, "so that's how she managed to get hired again—by offering more than just a resume."
Another socialite chimed in, "Isn't she the one who got caught cheating on her college entrance exams?"
"Oh God, yes! And didn't she get kicked out of Parsons for some… scandal?"
"Yeah. She was messing around with older men. The Blakes sent her to some private rehab program in Switzerland."
"She's just trash. Always has been."
Sienna stood there, her reputation unspooling in real time.
Camille's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Game over, she thought.
But then—
Buzz.
Sienna's phone lit up in her clutch: Unknown Number – 2 Video Files Attached.
Subject: "Proof of the Frame-Up."
She tapped it.
The first video opened to a grainy recording in what looked like a private office. Ava Hart's nasal voice was unmistakable.
"As long as you deal with Sienna Blake for me, I'll make sure the Blakes reward you."
"Don't worry, Miss Blake," Ava said smugly. "I've ruined better careers than hers."
The room fell silent as Sienna turned her phone toward Camille. "You might want to stop talking."
Camille scoffed. "What, another one of your dramatics—?"
But her voice cut off when her own face appeared onscreen.
Next video.
This time it was Ava and Julian Monroe, deep in an after-hours bar, flanked by call girls.
"Once I'm in with Camille, I'm basically family. Then it's nothing but corporate contracts and weekend golf at the Hamptons," Ava boasted, blowing cigar smoke.
Julian snorted. "I'm stuck married to a trust fund harpy. But the Blakes are my golden ticket. That girl Sienna? Just a pawn."
Silence.
Then—
"You lying snake!" Monroe's wife screamed as she turned on Ava. "You told me she was sleeping with him! You dragged me into this mess!"
She lunged.
Ava barely dodged before her claws sank into his designer suit.
"You used me, you sick bastard!"
Then she turned on Julian, slapping him hard across the face. "You want to dump me after I bankrolled your entire goddamn company? My family's lawyers will gut you tonight!"
Sienna stepped back from the chaos, completely composed.
She surveyed the stunned crowd—many of whom had gossiped about her mere minutes earlier.
She met Camille's glare with calm fire and said, loud enough for the whole room to hear:
"Next time you throw your sewage at someone, remember—not everyone was raised to wade through filth."
Then she turned and walked away—head high, heels clicking, armor intact.
Camille stood frozen in place, face drained of color.
This was supposed to be Sienna's ruin.
But it had become her own public disgrace.
Camille gritted her teeth, seething as she watched Sienna disappear into the elevator.
This isn't over, she thought.
But deep down, she knew—
Sienna Blake was no longer the girl who could be pushed out of the spotlight.
She was the spotlight now.