The moment Damon's car disappeared, the incubator erupted into deafening chatter.
Brook grabbed her phone from the desk and practically ran down the hall.
She pushed through the heavy wooden door of the women's restroom at the far end of the corridor.
She locked herself inside the last stall.
She leaned her back against the freezing ceramic tiles, pulling air into her lungs in ragged gasps.
Her heart was hammering wildly against her ribs.
Her phone started vibrating violently in her pocket.
It was a rapid stream of notifications from the company's internal Slack channel.
Brook pulled the phone out and opened the app.
Talia was spamming the main chat with screenshots of Damon Vaughn's Wikipedia page and his Wall Street Journal interviews.
Then, a new message popped up that made Brook's blood run cold.
Talia sent a shocked emoji followed by a link to a Vanity Fair gossip article.
The headline screamed across the screen.
Vaughn Capital CEO Spotted in Brooklyn: Paving the Way for His Fiancée's Family Business?
Brook's thumb hovered over the screen.
The familiar, sickening wave of nausea hit her stomach again, harder than before.
She clenched her jaw so tight her teeth ached, and she tapped the link.
The page loaded, revealing a long, detailed gossip column.
The article brought up the old rumors of Damon's impending marriage to the Ivy League socialite, Isadora.
But there was a new piece of information that felt like a physical blow.
The article featured a paparazzi photo taken a few days ago outside a Michelin-starred restaurant in Manhattan.
It showed Damon standing next to Aliyah, Brook's half-sister.
In the photo, Aliyah was smiling brightly, leaning close to him.
Damon's face was unreadable, but he had not stepped away from her touch.
The article speculated that the illegitimate daughter of the Velazquez family was trying to hijack the marriage alliance.
Brook stared at Damon's face on her screen.
A freezing chill spread through her veins.
He really was nothing but a heartless corporate machine.
She closed the browser and opened Instagram.
Her fingers moved on their own, typing in Katy Vaughn's handle.
Katy's newest story was a sketch of a ridiculously expensive custom wedding dress.
The text over the image read: Cannot wait to witness the most perfect family wedding!
Every piece of information pointed to the exact same conclusion.
Damon's marriage transaction was moving forward exactly as planned.
His sudden appearance at her incubator was nothing more than a sick power trip to satisfy his control issues.
Brook locked her phone screen.
She pushed the stall door open and walked over to the sinks.
She turned the faucet on high and splashed freezing water onto her face.
She looked at her pale reflection in the mirror.
Her eyes slowly lost their panic, hardening into two chips of solid ice.
She would rather die than let herself become his dirty little secret again.
She would never give Aliyah the satisfaction of seeing her broken.
Brook grabbed a paper towel and dried her face roughly.
She pushed the restroom door open and almost collided with Talia, who was touching up her lipstick.
Talia's eyes lit up with aggressive curiosity.
What did he say to you in there.
Brook adjusted the collar of her shirt, keeping her face completely blank.
He said the rental yield on this floor is garbage.
She walked past Talia and headed straight back to her studio.
She slammed her keycard onto the desk.
She booted up her high-end streaming computer.
Brook needed to drown the noise in her head with complex code.
She started her hardcore programming stream hours earlier than scheduled.
She put on her mask and looked at the viewer list.
The ID Null_Pointer was sitting right at the top of the donor leaderboard, glowing with an arrogant gold badge.
Brook stared at the name, a bitter, mocking smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.
She moved her mouse, clicked on the backend control panel, and selected his profile.
She hit the ban button and permanently blocked his IP address from her channel.
The chat box exploded instantly.
Her viewers were freaking out, shocked that she had just kicked out her biggest financial backer.
Brook pulled the microphone closer to her mouth.
Her voice was dead calm.
We only talk tech here. I do not welcome garbage who think they can buy relevance with dirty money.
Miles away, sitting in the back of his Maybach, Damon stared at his iPad.
The screen had gone completely black, displaying a bright red ban notification.
His fingers tightened around the expensive cigar in his hand until the tobacco leaves snapped and crumbled into dust.
