Chapter 19 – Whispers Behind Glass Doors

–Laura–

The moment I stepped into the office, I felt the air shift. Conversations halted mid-sentence. Heads turned subtly. Eyes followed me, some curious, some cautious. My heels clicked sharply against the marble floor, the sound oddly loud in the sudden hush.

Ah, yes—Carrie’s scandal. That must be it.

I pushed open the doors to my private office—the sleek, dimly lit space I had curated meticulously in tones of obsidian and steel. Aesthetics mattered. Control mattered. As I set my handbag down, Mitch, my ever-efficient secretary, entered with a stack of folders.

She hesitated at first, then approached. “There’s been… a development,” she said, her voice low as she leaned toward me.

I arched my brow. “Let me guess. It’s about Carrie?”

She gave a small nod. “Yes. The team thinks you might be behind the leak.”

A dry laugh burst out of me, louder than it should have been. Not exactly the image of a composed heiress. But really—me, orchestrating that scandal? Tempting, but unnecessary. Carrie was a walking disaster on her own.

“What else?” I asked once I composed myself.

Mitch hesitated again, then handed me her tablet. “There’s also buzz about Miss Livana. Apparently, she was seen with Damon Blackwell—before everything happened.”

My lips parted slightly as I looked at the screen. The image was grainy but unmistakable: Livana, standing outside a hotel room, Damon protectively shielding her. The moment frozen in time.

That dress. That night. I remembered.

“That photo’s from three years ago,” I said, setting my Birkin beside me as I sank into my chair. “Before the attack. Before she was engaged to Richard Knox.”

“Ohh.” Mitch’s eyes widened. “But… isn’t it kind of scandalous? I mean, you were involved with Damien Blackwell, and now there’s this photo of your sister and Damon?”

I narrowed my gaze. “My sister is the Chairwoman of this company. Make sure every employee understands that gossip will not be tolerated. And for the record, the Blackwells are leagues above the Knox family.”

I powered on my computer. Just as the screen lit up, a knock interrupted us.

Jerry entered holding a large bouquet. “Miss Laura… These are from Damien Blackwell. He’s in the lobby.”

“Send him up,” I said without looking away from the monitor.

Jerry hesitated. “Are you sure?”

I turned to him with a pointed look. “Now.”

Mitch cleared her throat, her curiosity barely restrained. “First time a Blackwell’s visited you here, isn’t it?”

“He’s not just anyone. He’s my business partner… and my boyfriend.” I winked at her.

She shrugged. “If you say so. But you know your family—”

“Doesn’t matter,” I cut in, smirking. “I’ll take a cappuccino today.”

“Of course, Miss Laura.”

As she left, I focused on my inbox. One email in particular caught my eye. Attached was a sketch—features drawn in charcoal, rough yet hauntingly familiar. The man responsible for spraying acid into my sister’s eyes.

I stared at the face. My stomach twisted. It resembled… Carrie.

No. She couldn’t have pulled this off alone.

Another sketch showed a man with a deep-set scowl and a heavy wallet—the one who paid the attacker. His face sparked something in my memory. Damien might know him.

The door opened, and in came the “super-duper appealing bastard” himself, carrying a box of cake like we were meeting for brunch instead of discussing attempted murder.

“Hey, baby,” Damien said with a smirk.

I cringed as he leaned in and kissed my cheek. I wiped it off without apology. He chuckled and went in for another, just to annoy me.

“What’s that?” he asked, nodding at my screen as he leaned over my chair.

“A lead,” I replied coldly. “This man helped orchestrate the attack that blinded my sister.”

He studied the sketch. “Looks familiar.”

He took my hand—still on the mouse—and guided it gently, scanning the image with a hunter’s calm.

“We’ll find that fucker,” he muttered, pulling out his phone and snapping a photo. “Does Livana know?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “She might have hired someone too. But I’m worried Carrie’s tied up with someone else. Someone with real power—and an old grudge.”

“Livana’s always stood out,” he said, his tone darker. “Too beautiful, too smart. That makes enemies. Especially with those violet eyes. Damon’s obsessed with them.”

I stared at him, something cold creeping into my gut. Carrie wasn’t the only one who might want Livana gone. Could someone else, jealous of Damon’s obsession, be behind this?

The door opened again.

“Laura?” a soft voice called.

I looked up to see Livana stepping in, white cane tapping softly against the floor, Jane by her side.

“Sis!” I shot up, nudging Damien away as if we hadn’t just been plotting vengeance. “You’re early.”

“I called for a board meeting. Don’t you remember?” she said calmly.

“Right. Of course.”

Damien stepped forward, ever the charmer. “Hey, Liva,” he said, kissing her cheek. “Looking stunning.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, always wary.

“Your dress suits you,” he said simply.

And it did. She wore a black trench coat dress with a plunging V-neck, her hair braided and twisted into a bun. Two inches above the knee—not exactly subtle. She looked powerful. Regal. Untouchable.

“Thank you,” she replied, almost absent-mindedly.

Damien guided her to the sofa, then looked at me with an unspoken prompt.

I cleared my throat. “Carrie’s scandal is making waves. People are talking.”

“She won’t have the nerve to show her face,” Livana replied coldly. “Not after this.”

Then she paused. “But… I think she’s trying to kill herself.”

“Livy,” I gasped, heart catching in my throat. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” she said, voice flat. “If she was part of what happened to Mom, I don’t want her to die. Not yet. Not until I’ve made her suffer enough to beg for death.”

I didn’t speak. What could I say?

Livana had always lived in a shadowed world. Even before the blindness. Bullied for her beauty, envied for her intelligence, loved too much by our grandparents—and yet burdened by all of their expectations. Her grace was sharp, not soft. She’d never been free.

And now, she was learning how to wield her pain like a weapon.

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