The engagement party had been an undeniable success. Every headline, every article, and every social media post had cemented Sloane and Vincent as the couple of the year.
The press dissected every detail. The guest list, the luxury, the way Vincent's hand never left Sloane's waist when they danced.
It had been calculated perfection.
But the morning after, Sloane knew it wasn't over.
Sitting at the dining table in the penthouse, she scrolled through her phone, already anticipating Genevieve's next move.
Lena sat across from her, flipping through a tablet. "She's quiet."
"For now," Sloane murmured, scanning the latest updates. "But she won't stay that way."
Vincent entered the room, dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his watch glinting in the soft morning light. He poured himself a coffee, glancing at Sloane's expression.
"Who are we plotting against this early?" he asked, smirking.
