Nancy paced the length of the rooftop garden that overlooked Blackwood Tower. The city glistened below, bathed in gold by the late afternoon sun, but her thoughts were elsewhere—lost in the tangle of strategy, silence, and surveillance.
Camille had made her move. And now, it was Nancy's turn.
Inside her blazer pocket was the printed dossier: screenshots of Camille's falsified files, doctored conversations, and half-truths stitched into a carefully crafted smear campaign. They were meant to fracture trust—especially between Nancy and the board, the public, and worst of all, Adrian.
She didn't wait for a second attack.
---
That Evening – Private Conference Room, Blackwood Enterprises
Nancy stood before a select panel: legal counsel, media advisors, and security leads. The tension in the air was palpable.
"This is what she sent to the media," Nancy said, handing out copies of the leaked materials. "The footage is edited, the emails altered. But perception doesn't care about authenticity. It cares about shock."
The head of PR, Melina Trask, raised an eyebrow. "So far, it's still circulating in underground networks. No mainstream outlet has published it."
"Yet," Adrian cut in. "We don't wait. We strike first."
Nancy nodded. "We launch the initiative I proposed last quarter—Transparency Stream. We release our own report, full audit, board minutes, everything. Beat her with truth before she blinds them with lies."
The legal rep, an older man with a dry voice, added, "That would expose sensitive details, even weaknesses. Are you prepared for that risk?"
Nancy didn't hesitate. "Absolutely. If we're going down, it won't be because we played it safe."
Adrian leaned back, eyes fixed on her. "That's my wife."
---
Meanwhile – Camille's Hideout
Camille sipped from a glass of white wine as she watched the news stream on a wall of monitors. Her source inside the newsroom messaged her: Delaying publication. Blackwood preempting.
She scowled. "Of course she would. She always was better at predicting checkmate."
A voice behind her interrupted. "You said you had her. That the data would finish her."
Camille turned. Her associate—Marcus Vale, a disgraced financial analyst turned underground dealer—folded his arms.
"I do have her. But I underestimated how quickly she'd retaliate. We just need a pivot. A final blow."
He dropped a folder on the table.
"What's this?" she asked.
"Something she doesn't know we have. Her college file. Her real family records. There's a secret she's been hiding even from Adrian."
Camille's eyes lit up.
"This... this changes everything."
---
Next Morning – Nancy's Old Neighborhood
Nancy stepped out of the car, the cold wind biting her cheeks. She hadn't been back here in months.
The building was exactly how she remembered—cracked bricks, iron stairs, and the faint smell of curry and cigarettes drifting from old windows. She walked up to apartment 302 and knocked.
Her mother answered, surprised. "Nancy?"
"Hi, Mama. Can I come in?"
Inside, the apartment was warm but cluttered. Her younger brother peeked out from his room, headphones around his neck.
Nancy sat on the couch, fidgeting with the hem of her coat.
"I think Camille found something. Something from the past. About Dad."
Her mother's face went still. "What did she find?"
"I don't know yet. But if she goes public with it, the fallout could hurt more than just me."
Her mother sighed deeply. "Then it's time you knew the truth."
She reached under the couch cushion and pulled out a faded envelope.
"Your father was never just a shopkeeper. He was an informant for a corporate watchdog group. He uncovered something at Blackwood Enterprises years ago—long before you met Adrian. But before he could testify, he disappeared. Officially, it was an accident. But I never believed that."
Nancy's chest tightened.
"Are you saying... Camille might use this to say I'm biased? That I had an agenda coming into this marriage?"
"She might. But it doesn't change the truth. You earned everything. You stood taller than the name Blackwood ever could."
Nancy hugged her mother, suddenly feeling ten years old again.
---
Later That Day – Press Conference
Nancy stood at the podium as flashbulbs popped. Reporters murmured, but went silent when she raised her hand.
"Today, we begin a series of disclosures called Transparency Stream. Not because we're perfect, but because we're accountable. My name is Nancy Blackwood, and I stand here not as a woman with a clean past, but a woman with a clear future."
She paused, letting the words hang.
"There are whispers about my family, my intentions, my integrity. Let me be clear—I have nothing to hide. And if anyone wishes to test that, I suggest they look in the mirror before casting the first stone."
The room erupted into questions, but Nancy stepped away, calm and unshaken.
---
At Home That Night
Adrian handed her a glass of wine.
"You were brilliant."
She raised an eyebrow. "Even when I talked about family secrets?"
He leaned closer. "Especially then. That's what real leaders do. They don't run—they reveal."
Nancy clinked her glass against his. "Then let's keep revealing. One truth at a time."
Muffin barked from the kitchen, tail wagging as he chased a squeaky toy.
Nancy laughed. "Even the dog's on board."
Adrian smirked. "Let's just hope Camille hates puppies."
They both laughed, but behind the laughter was steel.
This was just the beginning.
Camille had mirrors.
Nancy had the truth.
And the war had only just begun.