“They know that.” Sterling drops his briefcase on the table by the door. “They’re spinning it anyway. The source is anonymous. The financial records they’re citing are real but cherry-picked, and the framing is built to do maximum damage in a custody hearing.”
I look at Coach. He holds my eye and doesn’t blink. “I told you. I warned you that Vanessa’s people would tear her life open the moment they figured out who she was. This is what that looks like.”
“It’s also not the only piece dropping today.” Sterling pulls out a second device, taps through it, and turns it toward me. “Dr. Axel Hudson and Dr. Vivian Banks of Silverpeak General have both gone on record in the last ninety minutes accusing Miranda of inappropriate workplace conduct. Vivian is alleging the affair angle. Axel is alleging that she initiated a sexual relationship with him during a date six weeks ago and then turned hostile when he refused to continue it.”
The growl that comes out of me is involuntary and not entirely human.
Coach’s hand lands flat on my shoulder, the alpha pressure of him pressing my wolf back down by half a step. “Easy.”
“Don’t tell me to take it easy. I thought I told you to sue them, Sterling!”
Sterling sighs. “A lawsuit doesn’t happen in a day. And they are spinning it to make it seem that she is using your resources to silence them.”
“Fucking assholes!” I snarl.
“Enough, Grayson! You have to be smart about this.” Coach’s grip on my shoulder doesn’t loosen. “Smart is what gets her out of this. Furious gets her splashed across another headline.”
Sterling clears his throat. “I’m already on a call with your publicist. We’ll have a statement out before five p.m. clarifying the nature of the debt and confirming it was paid in full by an undisclosed family friend prior to the engagement. We’re framing the leak itself as a coordinated harassment campaign by parties with a vested interest in the custody outcome.”
“And the doctors.”
“That’s where we have a problem.” Sterling’s expression doesn’t change. “Defamation suits take months. Public opinion shifts in hours. If we go after them in court, we’ll win eventually. If we go after them in the press, we’ll lose.”
Crossing the room to the drawer of the side table, I pull it open and lift out a small USB drive. I cross back and place the drive flat in Sterling’s palm.
“What is this?”
“The date Dr. Axel mentioned. The footage from their security cameras shows what happened.” I close his fingers around the drive. “I asked their manager for a copy after I found out Miranda was fired. There’s audio as well. Two hours of recording that includes the moment he grabs her wrist and refuses to let go, the moment he tries to negotiate sex in exchange for paying her share of the bill, plus the moment I put my hand on the back of her chair and walked her out of there.”
Sterling looks down at the drive in his hand. “We could use this.”
“Leak it.” My voice is cold. “Dig through Miranda’s financials. Clear her name. Get patient testimonies, testimonies of the nurses she’s worked with.”
“Grayson.”
“Leak all of it. The full footage, unedited and time-stamped. Let every news desk in the country run the audio of him telling my fiancée she owes him sex.” I meet his eyes. “And while you’re at it, hire a PI to dig into Vivian Banks’ life. If we can’t go after her professionally, then make it personal. Have her reputation in shreds. They don’t touch what’s mine.”
Coach exhales through his nose, but he doesn’t stop me.
Sterling slides the drive into his inside pocket. “And Hudson?”
I sneer at that. “Do you really think Miranda was the first woman he tried to coerce? I don’t care how much money it costs, Sterling. Tear his life apart. Find every woman he’s crossed paths with and see which one hates him the most. Take it from there.”
Miranda isn’t going to be happy about this. She likes to fight her own battles. But she shouldn’t have to when I’m around. I don’t mind doing the dirty work for her.
Sterling holds my gaze a beat longer, then nods once. “I’ll have an update by tonight.”
He lets himself out, briefcase under one arm, already lifting the phone to his ear before he’s reached the porch.
Coach stays. He waits until the door has closed, then walks past me into the kitchen and lowers himself onto a stool, worn through.
I pour two glasses of water and slide one across. “You said you found a body the other day. You never got back to me on that. Was it human?”
He doesn’t respond immediately. “No. It was a half-shifted female. Buried about three feet down, just inside the southern boundary of your territory, in a stand of cedars near the creek.”
I go still. “Anyone we know?”
“The body’s too decomposed for visual identification,” he murmurs. “I’ve kept it quiet for now. Finding a body is onething. Finding a buried body is another thing. Especially if it’s one of our kind. The personal effects on her are corroded past recognition. I’ve sent them to a forensics lab for chemical cleaning. They’ll do what they can.”
