The morning began with a lingering sense of unease in the grand foyer. A large, matte-black box sat centered on the marble console, an intruder in Phobe's meticulously ordered world. Her household staff stood in a practiced, stiff line, their heads bowed as the silence stretched thin. Phoebe stared at the box, her gaze as cold as the morning air.
"Why is it that lately, multiple packages with unidentified senders have been making their way into this house?" Phoebe's voice cut through the stillness, quiet but dangerously sharp. "Is the security of this estate no longer a priority?"
The air in the room grew heavy. Her housekeepers and the head of her private security team shifted uncomfortably. "Can anyone explain this?" she demanded again, her authority absolute.
The head of security finally stepped forward, his tone apologetic. "My apologies, Miss. No strangers were permitted onto the grounds. I personally received the delivery at the gate. As per protocol, we scanned the contents for any threats; it was cleared immediately. I assumed it was a private order of yours or perhaps a high-priority gift from a close associate."
The rest of the staff nodded in hushed agreement. Phoebe studied them for a moment, then gave a curt, dismissive nod. They were doing their jobs, that wasn't the issues. What bothered her was the unseen hand moving through her life. Without another word, she gestured for them to return to their duties and had the box up to her suite.
Once behind the heavy doors of her bedroom, Phoebe finally lifted the lid. Her breath caught slightly. Inside lay a breathtaking dress, accompanied by a set of exquisite accessories that shimmered under the morning light. As her fingers brushed the expensive fabric, her mind immediately raced to the event she was scheduled to attend within the hour.
"Whatever he sent… it firs the them of my event perfectly," Phoebe whispered to the empty room, her eyes narrowing as she looked at her reflection. "But what puzzles me most is, who is he? And how does he know my schedule this intimately?"
Phoebe stared at the screen of her phone, her brow furrowed in deep concentration. Her mind was a whirlwind, filtering through a list of names that could have sent the mysterious box. Her thumb hovered over Julian's contact, but before she could press dial, the phone vibrated in her palm, Julian was already calling.
A faint, calculating smile touched her lips as she swiped to answer.
"Morning. Don't tell me you forgot about today's event, or did you just wake up?" Julian's voice came through the receiver, bright and attentive.
Phoebe gave a short, dry laugh. "No, I've been up since early morning. In fact, I've had a massive headache since dawn."
"A headache? Why?" Julian asked immediately, his tone shifting into professional concern.
"The usual," Phoebe replied, her eyes drifting back to the matte-black box on her bed. "I'm in the middle of a serious dilemma over what to wear."
"Oh, you haven't found the right look yet?" Julian offered. "How about I help you pick something from your collection? Or I could have a new dress sent over from a boutique? I think I can still manage that, we still have enough time."
Phoebe's gaze remained anchored to the box.
Confirmed, she thought privately. It wasn't Julian. Her logic was precise, if he had been the one behind the delivery, he wouldn't be offering to find her something else. He would have asked if the package had arrived of if the fit was perfect for the press conference.
"Hey! You still there? Or are you currently tearing your closet apart?" Julian's voice broke through her train of thought.
"I'm still here. Still undecided, but no… don't worry about it. I don't want to burden you with judging my outfit this morning."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. I need to start getting ready now, so I'll let you go."
"Alright then. I'll pick you up shortly, just wait for me at the main entrance."
Phoebe hesitated for a split second, looking at the gown that seemed to hum with a dangerous elegance. "That's a bit out of you way, but… fine. I'll see you then." Phoebe stopped racking her brain for the sender's identity. Instead, a slow, predatory smirk curled on her lips. A brilliant, calculated idea had already taken shape in her mind.
*****
"Everything is set. You just need to head in and give your statement as planned," Riana said, her tone professional yet cautious. "I can't dictate every word you say, but remember, if you feel triggered or emotional, keep in mind the live stream and the vultures from the press. You must stay in control."
Pheobe nodded curtly. "I'm aware. I'll keep it together."
"Good! It's time."
Before stepping into the chaotic glare of the public eye, Phoebe glanced at Julia. He gave her a firm, supportive nod. "You've got this. Own that room."
"Thanks for the ride, Julian."
The moment Phoebe crossed the threshold into the press hall, every camera lens pivoted toward her. A stunning woman in an exquisite gown, she moved with calculated elegance that radiated confidence. There was no trace of heartbreak in her eyes. As pre-arranged by the organizers, the journalists remained silent, waiting for her to set the tone.
"Good morning, everyone. I'll keep this brief," Phoebe began, her voice projecting with absolute authority. "I, Phoebe Fortunata, am here to confirm that Nicholas Dawson and I no longer share any kind relationship."
The room hummed with sudden murmurs. Phoebe scrambled to ask about the 'real' reason behind the split, but Phoebe raised hand, a silent command for silence that Riana reinforced.
"There is no need for speculation. I am here to clarify the state our relationship and the reasons behind its conclusion."
The room fell into a heavy silence.
"I am the one who decided to end this relationship. Therefore, any rumors suggesting that I was 'discarded' bye Nick are categorically false." Phoebe closed her eyes for a heartbeat, inhaling deeply as a flash of bittersweet memories flickered in her mind before she crushed them.
"As for the reasons, they are far too numerous to list. Simply put, we are no longer compatible. Regarding the news of Nick's new associations, that is none of my concern. If you seek answers on that, I suggest you ask him directly."
Phoebe paused, her expression hardening into something lethal.
"Lastly… I wish to announce that my company, which has served as the backbone for Nick's operations until now, has officially ceased all cooperation. It is not just our romantic ties that are severed; my firm, along with all its subsidiaries, has officially terminated every business contract with Nicolas Dawson's enterprise!"
The room began to spiral into chaos as aggressive whispers and shouted questions filled the air. Some reporters refused to stay silent, pushing for more scandalous details.
"I have delivered the essentials, and I made it clear that I would only be providing a summary." Phoebe's voice rose, sharp and laced with an icy edge. "As for your questions, find the answers yourselves. That man is no longer a significant part of my life. I refuse to waste another second of my time on a piece trash like him!"
Her chest heaved with suppressed rage. Without a backward glance, she turned and swept out of the hall, leaving a storm of camera flashes and shouting journalists behind. Riana smoothly stepped in, her professional mask firmly in place as she informed the press that the session had concluded and requested that they respect Phoebe's privacy.
Phoebe retreated into a private suite, shielded from the prying eyes of the media. The moment the heavy doors shut, her composed façade faltered. She sank into a chair, pressing her fingers against her throbbing temples.
Julian approached her quietly, handing her a bottle of water. "Drink this," he said, his voice a calm anchor in her emotional storm. "Just breaths. From this moment on, you don't have to think about him ever again. He's finished."
*****
The news spread like wildfire, its impact detonating instantly for the man whose breath hitched as his head throbbed with a burning rage.
"Argh! What she's doing will have massive consequences! I can't let this happen!" Nick roared, causing the woman beside him flinch in shock.
"Don't overthink it. Your fears are just getting the best for you," Hanna tried to soothe him, though her own eyes betrayed a deep, mounting anxiety.
"My fears will become a reality in a heartbeat is she continues to act this boldly!" Nick snapped. Moments later, a barrage of notifications flooded his devices. He lunged for his laptop, his face pale as he watched his company's stock plummet in real-time.
"Do you see what's happening now?!" Nick turned his fury on Hanna, completely forgetting that she was the primary reason for Phobe's wrath. In his panic, his supposed love for Hanna vanished, replaced by the cold terror of losing his empire.
Meanwhile, on the other side, a different man wore a faint, intrigued smile. "She knows exactly how to play the game, and her moves are as exquisite as her face," he murmured. Turning away from the television screen that still lingered on Phoebe's image, he walked toward his desk. His fingers curled around a glass of dark liquor, sipping it with the composure of a master strategist.
"You certainly know how to put an end to that pathetic mess," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with absolute certainty as he stared out at the city skyline. "And I suspect it won't be long before my time to start everything with you finally arrives."