CHAPTER FIVE

SIX GIRLS AND A SMIRK

Imogen’s POV

I could not get any sleep later that night. Sitting at the edge of my bed with the city lights bleeding through the blinds, rebuilding the plan until every piece was sitting clean in my head.

Thinking about the event that happened today. Edan had used my own laptop against me. He was standing at the back of that room, watching my face while the video was playing, calm as if he was reviewing a quarterly report. It is all fine, because if he wants a war, then I’m ready for him to leave a mark that people would still be talking about next week.

By six a.m the following morning, messages were already dropping on my phone as I returned them with my plan still intact. By seven a.m, the money had moved through two separate accounts so nothing was tracing directly back to me.

By eight a.m, I saw six women looking expensive and sounding louder than necessary, who already knew exactly where to be, what to wear, and what to say. They didn’t need scripts to exhibit their jobs perfectly.

The fundraising brunch was held in the glass atrium on the twentieth floor as morning lights were pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows thereby turning the white table cloths to something almost clinical.

Belvane’s people were sitting at the front row with three mid-level investors clustering around a platter of fruit no one was eating. Greg was moving between tables with the tight smile he has been reserving for days when money was supposed to walk in and stay. Half of the marketing team were lingering near the edges, pretending not to watch Edan like he was the main event.

I arrived late on purpose but not too late enough to miss the start of the event. I chose to sit at a spot near the far windows where I could see everything unfold.

Edan was already at the front with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, as the polished version of the smile that used to undo me. He was mid-sentence about platform reach and conversion rates when the first girl walked in.

She was tall, weeding a red dress with her voice like a blade cutting through the soft jazz.

“You are Edan Cross right?” She asked.

“Yes I am. How may I help you? He turned as the smile on his face was still there, but it tightened at the edges the way it always did when something unexpected entered his carefully managed frame.

“You are owing me three thousand dollars. And you said you would transfer it last week. I’m tired of waiting.” she said, loud enough for the nearest tables to hear.

Before she could conclude her statement, another girl appeared, followed by the third person.

Within thirty seconds there were six of them, arranged in a loose semicircle that blocked the clearest path toward the elevators. One was holding her phone up like she was already recording. Another was crossing her arms and looking up at him with the kind of familiarity that made people lean in.

“You told me the same thing, after the after-party. Remember? You told me that you don’t carry cash.” The second lady said.

Confusion clouded Edan’s face slowly before the sick realization that this was not random and it was not going to stop on its own.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he started, voice still measured.

“There’s no misunderstanding as far as we are concerned. You hired us, didn’t pay and we are not leaving here unless we collect our money.” The tall lady cuts in.

The room went quiet in stages as conversations were beginning to die down mid-sentence. The chairs stopped scraping.

“Is this some sort of prank?” Someone whispered and no one answered because the women did not look like they were joking.

“What is going on here?’ Greg’s voice cut across the atrium, sharper than usual.

“Ask your star. He knows exactly what this is about.” One of the girls turned toward him without missing a beat.

I noticed Edan's jaw locked as he kept looking past the women and scanning the room the way people scan for an exit when the building is already on fire. His eyes found me at the far edge of the atrium, standing near the tall windows with a glass of untouched orange juice in my hand, but I didn’t look away.

Instead, I let the corner of my mouth lift not to a full smile but a private acknowledgment that the board had shifted and he was the one standing on the wrong side of it.

His expression changed as he was able to recognize that I was the person behind it. In that exact second, across a room full of investors and executives and half the company, he knew it was me.

“Imogen,” he said, and my name sounded like a warning and a promise at the same time.

I raised my glass a fraction, as if toasting him.

“We’re not leaving until the money enters our accounts. You can do it now, or we can keep talking in front of all these nice people. The choice is yours to make.” The tall girl said, stepping closer.

From the onlookers, someone from Belvane’s team had already pulled out a phone to record. An investor near the front was looking like he was calculating the fastest polite exit. Greg’s face had changed to a darker mood. A junior staff member from the marketing department had her hand over her mouth, eyes wide, already drafting the story she would tell later.

“This is a setup. I don’t know these women.” Edan held up both hands.

“Sure you don’t. That’s what they all say when the bill comes due.” One of them laughed.

I stayed where I was, quietly watching him as well as his reactions to the scenario before him. At some point, he stopped trying to explain and started calculating damage control instead.

Four years ago he had sat in a bed and told me it wasn’t that serious, but today the entire room was learning how serious a well-timed humiliation could be.

“Everyone, enough of this bullshit. Both of you, to the conference room. Now.” Greg’s voice rose above the noise, strained and final and he meant me and Edan.

Edan was still staring at me across the chaos, as the six women were still talking over each other, and phones still raised, with the careful image of the campaign cracking in real time under the glass ceiling.

Setting the glass of juice down, I walked towards the conference room first. And I could hear Edan’s footsteps behind me. Also there was the rising sound of Greg trying to contain a disaster that had already left the building and was heading for every group chat in the company.

Entering the conference room, the door closed behind us with a soft and final click. Greg looked between us like he was deciding which one of us to fire first and whether the board would let him do it before lunch.

“Can any of you please explain the situation that just happened downstairs,” he said.

Neither of us spoke for a while before Edan’s voice came first, with his eyes locked on mine.

“Imogen I’m sure you hired these ladies.” He said.

I met his stare and didn’t blink. He still has the same calmness he has been wearing since yesterday while my private video was playing for a room full of strangers.

“You don’t need to be upset, because you made the first move,” I said.

CHAPTER SIX

ONE OF YOU HAS TO GO

Imogen’s POV

Arriving at the office the next day, Mr Greg had already scheduled another meeting at the conference room.

He was sitting at the edge of the long table while Edan took the seat across from me. Between us, a tablet was laying face-down like a loaded weapon nobody wanted to touch first.

“I have spent the last ten minutes on the phone with Belvane’s legal team,” Greg said. His voice was flat like the voice of a man who had already decided the worst and was now just confirming it. “They saw the video of yesterday's brunch and they are asking questions relentlessly.”

He turned his tablet over as the screen showed a message thread from the Belvane’s head of communications which was timestamped eleven minutes ago and it read:

“Is this the team we’re trusting with a cancer treatment launch? We need you to get back to us by noon.”

“The brunch was bad and the video even worsened the whole situation. But I cannot explain what the situation is and I don’t understand the reasons why two of my most expensive assets are trying to destroy each other in public.” Mr. Greg continued.

“Mr. Greg, she is the one….” Edan leaned forward.

“I didn’t ask you to point fingers. I asked you to explain ” Greg’s hand came down on the table.

Just then the door opened and a woman in a grey suit walked in carrying a folder. She didn’t introduce herself because there was no need to as the Belvane logo on her badge said everything.

“I’m Mara Voss from the Belvane legal team. I’m here because my team is one signature away from pulling the entire campaign.” She said, setting the folder down.

The air left the room.

“What do you mean by pulling?,” I repeated.

“Yes, pulling. We signed on for a unified front with two distinguished faces and one message. But what we got was a leaked private video, a staged public humiliation, and a comment section that has already turned this into a tabloid story. Our investors are asking whether the people representing this device can be trusted with anything.” She explained opening the folder.

“Mara, we can fix this. A statement to the press can go a long way.” Grey’s face had gone grey.

“We don’t want a statement. We want to know which one of you is the liability. Because one of you will be walking away today.” She looked at me, then at Edan.

The words landed like a stone in still water.

“What do you mean by us?” Edan asked slowly.

“Yes, one of you. Belvane has been reviewing both your backgrounds, your histories and entanglements.” Her eyes lingered on me for a fraction of a second. “So we need one clean face, then another becomes an off-brand consultant.” She said tapping the folder.

“So I need an answer by noon, I’ll be in the lobby.” Mara said and left.

“Imogen and Edan. I don’t care what happened between you. All I care about is the device, the launch and the fact that my company just lost forty-three minutes of credibility. One of you has to go. Who is it?” Mr. Greg said, rubbing his face with both hands, whilst looking up.

The silence that followed was different from the one before.

“It should be me.” Edan spoke first.

“What?.” I turned to him so fast my chair scraped.

“I’m the public face,” he said. His voice was steady, but his hands were flat on the table, fingers spread, like he was holding himself in place. “If I step back, the campaign loses a TikTok star. But if you step back, the it loses the person who built the pitch. The pitch is the campaign, so you should stay.”

“No no . Don’t do that by playing the hero here.” I said. My voice came out sharper than I intended. “You don’t get to stand there and sacrifice yourself after all you did.”

“I’m not playing anything, instead, I’m being practical. You need this more than I do.” He said.

The words hit harder than they should have because he couldn’t have probably known about my mother’s ailment. But the way he said it was like he could still see through me after four years and that made my throat tighten.

“You don’t know what I need.” I retorted.

“I know you didn’t walk into this company by accident, I know you fought for this account and if Belvane walks away, the pitch dies with it. So yes. It should be me.” He replied.

“Is that the decision?” Mr. Greg’s eyes moved between us.

“No. You don’t get to erase yourself and call it noble. And you don’t get to decide for me.” I turned to Greg. “If one of us leaves, the campaign still looks unstable. The story becomes ‘which one of them was the problem.’ Belvane will smell the weakness and they’ll pull the funding anyway.” I explained.

“Then what’s your solution?” Mr. Greg frowned.

“We both stay. We are going to work together publicly without any other sabotage or private wars. We will give them the unified front they paid for.” The words surprised even me, but once they were out I didn’t take them back.

“Are you volunteering to work with me?.” Edan’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m volunteering to save the only thing that matters.” I didn’t go further with my explanations, especially not about my mother’s treatment window closing or the five thousand pounds, rather I just held his gaze and let the silence do the rest.

Greg exhaled. “You’re both staying under one condition.” He tapped the tablet. “From this moment, every public appearance is joint, every statement is approved by both of you. Any further incident from any of you and Belvane gets the termination clause. We will lose the account and you both will lose the compensation. Are we clear on that?” He asked.

“Yes we are,” Edan answered while I nodded in agreement.

“Mara is waiting. I’ll tell her the decision. Don’t make me regret this.” Mr. Greg stood leaving us alone in the windowless room.

For a long moment neither of us moved as the air between us was feeling charged, like the second before lightning decides where to strike.

“Why did you do that?” Edan spoke first in a quiet tone now.

“Because the alternative was worse.” I replied.

“That’s not an answer.” He insisted.

I turned to look at the man who had once been the center of my world and then the reason it ended. At the same eyes that had told me it wasn’t that serious while another girl was sitting on his bed.

“You don’t get answers, rather you get a truce which will be temporary and professional. And the second this campaign is over, we go back to being strangers.” I said.

He studied me for a beat longer than was comfortable. Then he nodded once, like he was accepting terms he already planned to break.

My phone started vibrating in my pocket, I pulled it out without thinking only to see a new message from an unknown number.

But the preview made my blood go cold, it read;

“Still think you can win this, Imogen? Ask him what really happened that night. Or better yet ask him why he never told you.”

I locked the screen, looked up and Edan was still watching me.

“Everything okay?” he asked. I didn’t answer.

Outside the door, Mr. Greg’s voice carried down the hall as he spoke to Mara.

Inside the room, the clock on the wall was ticking towards noon.

And in my hand, the message was sitting like a fuse already lighted.