Chapter 3

The very next day, Victoria sent over two files on SnapChat with a short text: [These two are victims too. If you can get them on our side, do it. The more knives in his back, the better.]

I tapped the first file: Nora Lane, an independent graphic designer.

According to the file, Carter had stolen a massive national design award last year, basking in endless praise. Turns out, the entire concept was ripped straight off Nora.

He hadn't just stolen her blood, sweat, and tears—he’d gone out of his way to sabotage her studio's contracts, nearly driving her into bankruptcy.

The second file was Harper King, a former financial analyst at Carter's firm.

Her story was even worse. Because she was pretty, Carter tried to force himself on her. When she refused his advances, the bastard framed her for embezzlement, fired her, and blacklisted her across the entire industry.

Reading through their files, my blood boiled.

Carter Vance wasn't just a cheater; he was a full-blown predator.

Victoria’s strategy was crystal clear: the enemy of my enemy is my friend.

I reached out to Nora first.

We met at a secluded coffee shop near an industrial park. The moment she saw me, her walls went up.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"I'm... another one of Carter Vance's victims," I said, skipping the sugarcoating and laying out Victoria’s and my plan. "We're going to take him down. We're going to put him behind bars and bleed him dry. That design he stole from you? We have a way to get your credit back and make him choke on his own greed. You in?"

Nora froze, clearly stunned by how direct I was.

She stayed silent for a long time, her eyes slowly welling with tears.

That stolen design had cost her countless sleepless nights. It was her baby.

"Why should I trust you?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"You don't have to trust me," I said, sliding my phone across the table, showing Victoria's SnapChat profile. "Trust her. She's his wife. Right now, what we need is a dagger to pierce his corporate facade. You are that dagger."

Nora stared into my eyes. Finally, she gritted her teeth and nodded. "Count me in. I kept the original draft files and the bogus non-disclosure agreements he tricked me into signing!"

One down.

Next was Harper.

Harper was a tougher nut to crack. Carter had thoroughly traumatized her; she visibly flinched at the mere mention of his name.

It took three attempts before she finally agreed to meet me at a noisy fast-food joint.

"I don't want anything to do with him anymore. Please, just leave me alone," she whispered, her head down, voice barely audible.

"Leave you alone? In your dreams!" I slammed my hand on the table, turning heads around us. "You think hiding in a hole will fix anything? The mud Carter smeared on your name will follow you for the rest of your life! Everywhere you apply, people will whisper behind your back! Do you really want to spend the rest of your life living like a coward?"

My words hit her like daggers. She snapped her head up, tears spilling over her lashes.

"What else can I do...?"

"What can you do? Throw the mud right back in his face!" I leaned in close, lowering my voice. "We're taking him down, and we're going big. You were in finance. You know how rotten his books are better than anyone. You don't even need to show your face. Just point us to his weak spots. Which accounts are dirty? Which shell companies is he running?"

I looked dead into her eyes. "We aren't begging you. We're handing you an opportunity. A chance to take back every ounce of humiliation and pain he inflicted on you, with interest."

Harper's breathing turned ragged. Finally, as if making a life-altering choice, she pulled a sleek USB drive from her purse and pushed it toward me.

"I kept backups before I left. It contains proof of his off-the-books shell accounts. I was too terrified to use it back then..." She sucked in a shaky breath. "Take it. Destroy him."