Julie’s calm, cool demeanor stoked a ravenous urge in Sophie to prove herself. She lashed out immediately, “Even if reporters grill him, he’ll just deny it for now. But the engagement ring we picked out together, every memory we shared—those don’t just disappear overnight.”
"Sometimes what you see isn’t what it looks like," Julie murmured quietly back.
Sophie let out a sharp, bitter laugh of frustration. “The lifestyle section of the *Observer Times* dropped a deep dive today, picking apart my seven-year relationship with Cameron. It’s already gone viral. You should check it out—every single word is true.”
Julie’s tone stayed ice-cold as she answered, “You’d bet your entire family’s reputation on that, huh?”
"Hell yes! I’m the Chavez family’s oldest daughter—my word is my bond!" Sophie shot back.
"Alright, I get it. I wish the two of you the best."
After hanging up, Julie hurried out of the elevator and ducked into the stairwell, where she immediately started editing the audio recording of their call. She cut every reference to her own family, tweaked her voice slightly to muffle it, and fired the file straight to Khloe Boyd’s email.
"Khloe," she said when her call connected, her voice steady as a rock, "I’ve got a recording of Sophie Chavez admitting the relationship. It’s in your inbox."
"No way! That’s incredible!" Khloe burst out, shocked. She’d seen Sophie’s earlier interview, knew how tight-lipped she’d been the whole time. "You pulled off what the entire gossip industry couldn’t—you’re seriously this department’s lucky star!"
Julie let herself relax a little. Logically, she didn’t need to do anything more. But the more dirt she had on them, the more leverage she held, right?
She called Ryan next. "Ryan, I need you on standby tonight. I’ll tweak my plans as I go and keep you updated."
Should she meet Sophie face-to-face? Julie double-checked that the tiny hidden camera was tucked discretely to the side of her bag. Cameron, you left me no other choice…
Up on the fifteenth floor of the Ritz Carlton, the elevator doors slid open. Cameron was walking out, already listening to Jeremiah’s call.
"Mr. Taylor, hotel management just tipped us off—Mrs. Taylor got into the city and checked into the fifteenth floor of the Ritz!"
Cameron froze mid-step. "Did they spot her?"
"I didn’t push for that, but her membership card doesn’t lie," Jeremiah answered, back at the office wrapping up loose ends. Cameron had been pulling two all-nighters in a row by this point, and laying low felt way safer than blowing up. Jeremiah had cleared out the entire fifteenth floor to keep everyone safe.
The hotel never let anyone else stay this floor unless they were immediate family, anyway. Remembering the screaming calls Laura Taylor had made earlier that week, Jeremiah added a warning: "Mr. Taylor, she’s pretty furious right now."
"What room is she in?" Cameron asked.
"Be careful, sir—she’s right next doo—"
Cameron went completely still, his gaze locking straight on the door marked 1553. He stood there for a long beat, then ducked into the adjacent stairwell. Years of dealing with his mother’s temper had taught him: never confront her when she’s this heated.
Julie, who’d just finished prepping her gear and was about to step out of the stairwell, collided straight with someone coming in. Their eyes locked—both of them just as shocked as the other.
