It began with a post.
Nothing loud, no press release, no scandalous photo. Just one sentence, one snake-coiled caption from an account with over eight million followers.
@SavannahLeclair:
"Some people pretend to build themselves up… while standing on the backs of others. #wolveshideinbeauty"
It dropped at 8:12 a.m. on a Tuesday.
By 8:47, it had been reposted over 10,000 times.
By noon, it was trending.
Bloggers dissected the cryptic jab. Comment sections exploded with speculation, media outlets pulled archival clips like war memorabilia — Savannah and Julian arm-in-arm at galas, Savannah kissing his cheek backstage at a launch, Savannah in a red dress beside him at the original Wolfe Global press shoot.
The narrative sharpened.
Selena was a thief.
A climber.
An "influencer turned cosmetic puppet" who seduced her way into a spotlight never meant for her.
And Savannah?
Savannah was the rightful queen.
The blogs were merciless.
"Hart Snatched Wolfe from Leclair in PR Move Gone Too Far?"
"From Side Chick to CEO? Inside Selena's Beauty Coup"
"Savannah Leclair: The Billionaire's True Muse?"
Selena tried to ignore it. She poured herself into inventory, double-checked supplier contracts and told Maya she was "fine." But her jaw stayed tight, her phone screen lit constantly with alerts and beneath the surface an old fear crawled back in:
That maybe… they were right.
That maybe she had only risen because someone else was pushed aside.
And then came the podcast.
Savannah had never been subtle — but this time, she came for blood with a velvet knife.
It was Episode 211 of Unfiltered Empire, a top-rated show hosted by a sharp-tongued LA media personality known for dragging secrets into the sun.
Selena had no intention of listening.
But someone sent her a clip.
Then another.
Then another.
Until finally she sat at her desk, spine stiff, heart pounding and pressed play.
Savannah's voice poured through the speakers like honey soaked in venom.
"Julian Wolfe and I were never over," she purred, laughter tinkling like glass behind it. "Not really. I think deep down, he knows what we had wasn't replaceable."
The host gasped. "Wait—so this new thing with Selena—"
"Temporary," Savannah said smoothly. "She was a good… distraction. A good story but he always comes back, you'll see."
There was silence in the studio the kind that lets implications marinate.
Savannah smiled through the audio.
"Some people sell lip gloss, I built legacies."
Selena sat frozen.
Her fingers curled against the edge of the desk.
And then… came the worst part.
The part Julian didn't say.
Because he didn't say anything.
There was no statement, no social post, no interview pushing back, no denial at all.
He was silent.
And that silence was louder than any words Savannah could have spoken.
Maya found her hours later still seated at her desk, phone dark, shoulders still.
"Selena?"
She didn't answer.
Maya crossed the room slowly. "Did you see what she said?"
Selena nodded once, her voice when it came was thin and sharp like cracked glass.
"She said he always comes back to her."
"And he didn't—"
"Deny it," Selena finished. "Not fast enough, not at all."
Maya crouched down in front of her voice careful. "Do you believe her?"
Selena closed her eyes.
Did she?
It wasn't about Savannah, it wasn't even about the past.
It was about trust.
And the one person she had started to trust again had gone quiet at the exact moment she needed his voice most.
In another part of the city, Julian stared at his phone like it was a detonator.
He hadn't meant to wait this long.
But every drafted statement sounded like damage control, like spin, like the exact thing Selena hated most.
So he said nothing, waiting for the perfect words.
And while he waited—he lost her again.