Chapter 4 The Web Tightens

My bitter laugh echoed in the penthouse, bouncing off the sleek marble floors and glass walls like a bad joke I couldn't take back. Trust him? Damian Black, the guy I'd crushed on from afar in high school, now standing here like some dark knight in a tailored suit, asking me to dive headfirst into his mess. My head was spinning—part hangover, part adrenaline, and a whole lot of what-the-hell-did-I-get-myself-into. Brittany's smirk was like nails on a chalkboard, her eyes darting between us, loving every second of this drama. The two suits behind her shifted their weight, one still holding that tablet with the damning video paused on a frame that looked way too much like Damian.

"Trust isn't something I hand out like candy, Damian," I said, my voice cracking a little despite my best effort to sound tough. I crossed my arms over my wrinkled dress, suddenly feeling exposed in this fancy space that screamed money and power. "You dragged me into this with your 'favor' crap, and now Brittany's waving around some spy movie footage? Spill it. Right now."

Damian's blue eyes held mine, steady but stormy, like he was weighing how much truth I could handle. He didn't flinch, didn't back down—that brooding intensity from high school was still there, but now it felt heavier, more real. "Ava, it's edited. Fake. Someone's trying to frame me." He turned to Brittany, his tone dropping low and dangerous. "And you? You're just the messenger, huh? Or are you in on it? Desperate for relevance after your husband's company's tanking?"

Brittany's face flushed, her perfect makeup not hiding the flash of anger in her eyes. "Oh, please. My life's golden compared to this circus. But nice deflection, Damian. The video's real enough—pulled from a secure server. Your surveillance tech? It's not just for catching cheaters or monitoring employees. Word is, you're selling it to governments, shady ones. Data harvesting, privacy breaches, the works. And now Ava's your cover? Pathetic."

I felt a knot twist in my stomach, cold and tight. Surveillance tech? Lena's warning on the phone replayed in my head—don't trust him. He's not what he seems. I glanced at Damian, searching for any sign of guilt, but he just shook his head, his jaw tightening. "You're fishing, Brittany. That video's a deepfake. Anyone with half a brain in tech could whip that up. Who's feeding you this? Your husband? Trying to sabotage my company because his is circling the drain?"

One of the suits cleared his throat, stepping forward with the tablet. He was tall, balding, with a no-nonsense vibe that made me think ex-cop or something worse. "Mr. Black, we're not here to argue. We're investigators hired by concerned parties. The footage shows a transaction involving Black Enterprises' proprietary software. If it's fake, prove it. Otherwise, this goes to the press—and the authorities."

I couldn't stay quiet anymore. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest. "Wait, hold up. Concerned parties? Who? And why drag me into it? I met Damian last night! This is insane." I turned to Brittany, my voice rising with frustration and a hint of fear. "What do you even get out of this? High school was ten years ago. Grow up."

She laughed again, that fake, tinkling sound that grated on my nerves. "Oh, Ava, sweetie. This isn't about high school. Though, watching you crash and burn again is a bonus. My husband? He's got connections. When those reunion pics blew up, he recognized Damian's name. Dug a little, found gold. And you? You're the weak link. The fake girlfriend who's about to crack under the spotlight." She leaned in, her perfume hitting me like a wave—too sweet, too much. "Admit it's all a lie, and maybe I'll keep your name out of the headlines. For old times' sake."

Old times' sake? Like when she spread rumors that I was easy, or stole my prom date just to prove she could? Anger bubbled up, hot and fierce, pushing out the fear. "You're bluffing," I shot back, stepping closer to her. "If that USB's so explosive, why not just leak it? You need something from us, don't you?"

Damian's hand found my elbow, a gentle squeeze that sent a spark through me—reassuring, but with that undercurrent of heat I couldn't ignore. "She's right, Brittany. You're here because you want a deal. Spill it."

The room went quiet for a beat, the city hum outside the windows the only sound. Brittany's smirk faltered just a fraction, and she exchanged a quick look with the balding suit. "Fine," she said, crossing her arms. "My husband's company is... struggling. Black Enterprises buying us out could save face. But we need leverage. Hand over the real surveillance data—proof you're clean—and we'll back off. Otherwise, this video hits every news outlet by noon."

I blinked, trying to process. Blackmail? This was straight out of a thriller novel, not my life. I was supposed to be packing my apartment, not negotiating corporate espionage in a billionaire's penthouse. "Damian, tell me this is bullshit," I whispered, turning to him. My voice was softer now, pleading almost. I hated how vulnerable I sounded, but damn it, I was scared. And underneath that, a flicker of something else—curiosity, maybe even attraction, drawing me to him like a moth to a flame.

He met my gaze, his expression softening for the first time since Brittany barged in. "It is bullshit, Ava. I swear. Black Enterprises develops security software—cameras, monitoring for businesses. Nothing illegal. But competitors play dirty. This?" He nodded at the tablet. "It's a setup. Probably from my own board—some want me out because I'm not playing their merger games."

The other suit, shorter with a mustache, piped up for the first time. "Then cooperate. Let us verify the software logs. If it's clean, we're gone."

Damian shook his head, his grip on my elbow tightening just enough to feel protective. "Not without my lawyers. You think I'm handing over company secrets to randos who broke into my home?"

Brittany rolled her eyes. "Broke in? Please. Your doorman let us up—said we were friends of Ava's. Guess your security's not as tight as you think." She shot me a wink, like we were in on some girl code. "Thanks for the viral fame, by the way. Made it easy to track you down."

I pulled away from Damian, pacing a few steps toward the window. The view was stunning—Central Park sprawling below, people like ants going about their normal lives. Mine? A total shitshow. "This is too much," I muttered, more to myself than anyone. Tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them back. No way was I crying in front of Brittany. "I came here to escape my mess, not jump into yours."

Damian followed me, his voice low so only I could hear. "Ava, I didn't plan this. But you're in it now. Stick with me, and I'll protect you. I promise." His breath was warm on my neck, and for a second, I remembered last night—his arm around me, that fake kiss that felt electric. Was any of this real? Or was I just a pawn?

Before I could respond, the elevator dinged again. We all spun toward it, tension crackling like lightning. The doors slid open, and in stormed Lena, her curly hair wild, eyes wide with worry. She was my best friend since sophomore year, Damian's stepsister by marriage, and right now, she looked ready to throw punches. "What the hell is going on here?" she demanded, zeroing in on Brittany and the suits. "Ava, are you okay? I got your text, but then I saw more posts—people saying you're in some scandal with Damian?"

Relief washed over me like a cool wave. "Lena! Thank God." I rushed to her, hugging her tight. She smelled like coffee and home, grounding me in the chaos. "It's a nightmare. Brittany's got some video claiming Damian's company is shady, and now they're threatening to leak it."

Lena pulled back, her brown eyes flashing as she glared at Damian. "You. What did you drag her into? I told you to stay away from my friends back in high school, and now this?"

Damian raised his hands, palms out. "Lena, chill. It's under control."

"Under control?" She laughed, sharp and disbelieving. "I get a call from some reporter asking about Black Enterprises' 'surveillance scandals,' and Ava's name comes up? You're using her, aren't you? For your board drama?"

Brittany chimed in, clearly enjoying the family feud. "Oh, this is gold. Stepsis to the rescue. Lena, right? You were always the Goody Two-Shoes. Want to see the video? It's quite the show."

Lena ignored her, focusing on me. "Ava, let's go. You don't need this. Come crash at my place. We'll sort your apartment stuff later."

I hesitated, torn. Lena was my rock— we'd shared secrets, late-night talks, everything. But Damian... there was something pulling me toward him, a mix of old crush and new intrigue. "I can't just leave," I said softly. "If I bail now, the press will eat me alive. My career's already tanked once."

Damian stepped up, his voice firm but gentle. "Lena, back off. Ava's an adult. She can decide."

Lena whirled on him. "Decide what? To be your fake arm candy while you dodge scandals? Mom and Dad would flip if they knew about this. Hell, I flip. You've always been reckless, Damian—racing cars, ditching school, now this corporate crap?"

The suits exchanged glances, the balding one checking his watch. "We're on a timeline here. Agree to the logs, or we walk—and publish."

I felt the pressure building, like a storm about to break. Emotions swirled inside me—fear, anger, a weird thrill at being in the center of something big. "Everyone, shut up!" I yelled, surprising even myself. The room went silent. "Damian, if it's fake, prove it. Call your lawyers, whatever. Brittany, if you're so sure, show us the whole video—not just snippets."

Brittany hesitated, then nodded to the suit. He tapped the tablet, and the video resumed. Grainy figures moved, voices murmuring about "data packages" and "offshore buyers." The man who looked like Damian handed over a drive, shaking hands with the shadow figure. My breath caught—it did look like him, down to the scar on his cheek.

"See?" Brittany said triumphantly. "Busted."

Damian leaned in, squinting. "Zoom in on the timestamp." The suit did, and Damian pointed. "That's June 15th. I was in Tokyo that day—board meeting. Check my socials, flight records. It's not me."

Lena pulled out her phone, typing furiously. "He's right. Posted a story from Tokyo Tower that night." She showed us the screen, a selfie of Damian with the city lights behind him.

Brittany's face paled, but she recovered. "Could be faked too. Doesn't prove squat."

The mustache suit sighed. "This is getting nowhere. We're leaving. Expect headlines soon."

As they turned toward the elevator, my phone buzzed loudly. I fished it out—a text from an unknown number: Back out now, or your secrets go public too. Attached was a photo: me from last week, crying in my apartment, wine bottle in hand. Someone had been watching me?

"Wait," I said, my voice trembling. I showed the phone to Damian. "They're not bluffing. Someone's spying on me."

His eyes darkened, fury flashing. "Give me that." He snatched the phone, examining the photo. "This is from inside your place. Hidden camera?"

Lena gasped. "What? Ava, that's creepy as hell!"

Brittany paused by the elevator, curiosity piqued. "Not our doing. But interesting. Maybe your boyfriend's tech is turning on you."

Damian handed the phone back, his face set in determination. "Ava, stay here. I'll handle this." He turned to the suits. "You want logs? Fine. But on my terms. Meet my team downstairs in ten."

The elevator doors opened, and they stepped in, Brittany lingering last. "This isn't over, lovebirds," she purred. "Watch your backs."

As the doors closed, silence fell. Lena hugged me again. "Ava, please. Come with me."

I shook my head, my mind racing. "I can't. Not yet." I looked at Damian, that pull stronger now, mixed with dread. "Who sent that photo? And how do they know my secrets?"

He met my eyes, something raw and human breaking through his cool facade—regret, maybe fear. "I don't know. But we'll find out. Together."

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed again. Another text: Tick tock. The photo attached this time was worse—me and Mark, from months ago, in a private moment. But it was edited, twisted into something ugly. My blood ran cold. Who was doing this? And what else did they have?

Damian's phone rang, shattering the moment. He answered, his face going pale. "What? How bad?" A pause, then he hung up, turning to us. "My office—just got hit. Break-in. Files on the surveillance tech... gone."

Lena's eyes widened. "Oh God. Ava, this is bad."

I nodded, fear gripping me tight. But as Damian reached for my hand, squeezing it, I felt a spark of resolve. We were in deep, but backing out wasn't an option. Not when the web was tightening, and the real threat was just starting to reveal itself.