Val's eyes narrowed with laser-like focus, dissecting the video with meticulous precision. She shook her head, disbelief etched in her features.

"This is a deepfake," she declared, tapping the screen with a decisive finger. "See that blur around the guy's neck? Dead giveaway."

Chloe leaned in, her breath hitching as she studied the video frame by frame. "It's not him. That's not his body."

Val scoffed, crossing her arms. "Exactly. Trust me, I'd know. I've seen Dami naked."

Chloe tilted her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Of course, you have."

Val's eyes gleamed with a playful glint. "With Bella. Long before you two crossed paths."

Chloe released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The thought of Damian finding slivers of joy in his sad past brought her a strange sense of relief.

She replayed the video, scrutinizing it again. The flaws were glaringly obvious.

First, there was no dragon tattoo.

Second, the idea of Damian—always in control—being tied up and submissive? Ridiculous.

"Hell no!" Chloe erupted, rage surging through her veins. Only one person would dare to pull this on Damian.

"Gemma. That fucking bitch—I swear, I'll kill her."

Adrenaline flooded her system, every nerve on fire. The sheer audacity of someone trying to drag Damian's name through the mud blurred her vision with pure, undiluted fury.

"Simmer down, tiger," Val said, her hand steadying Chloe's arm as she glared back at startled onlookers in the café. "We both know it's not him, but losing your cool here won't help you."

Chloe forced herself to take a shaky breath, her fists clenching and unclenching as she struggled to calm the storm inside her. But the image burned in her mind, stoking the flames of her anger.

Why would Gemma stoop this low?

"I've got to tell Dami," she muttered, pushing her coffee cup away. "But he's on a plane right now. Vivianne—his assistant—she'll know someone who can verify this and trace the source. I bet the source is Gemma."

"Are you sure?" Val asked. "Dami can sue the living shit out of her if she doesn't delete the video."

Chloe's thoughts zeroed in on the woman who wreaked havoc on their lives. Saira pulled these kinds of vicious stunts to hurt Alistair when she was alive. Even in death, it was as if her malevolent spirit had latched onto Gemma, twisting her into something even more sinister.

"I'm sure it's her. If Gemma wants a war, I'll fight back," Chloe vowed. "But I'll need an army."

Val touched Chloe's hand. "You've got one, Chloe. We're with you—every step of the way."

***

Chloe gripped the handlebars of Damian's motorcycle, the engine's roar barely matching the storm brewing inside her. The wind lashed at her as she tore down the highway, Rochefort Estate towering ahead like a fortress of lies. She hadn't asked for permission—Damian didn't need to know, not yet.

She pulled up to the main building, dismounting with a swift, fluid motion. She barely registered the imposing facade as she strode inside, her leather boots striking the marble floor like gunshots.

The housekeeper paled as Chloe burst into the mansion's boardroom. The room bled with money—gleaming mahogany chairs and a crystal chandelier above a table surrounded by sharply dressed executives. Conversations died as every eye turned to the uninvited intruder.

"Miss, I tried to stop her, but she—"

Gemma's eyes—steely gray and cold as winter—widened for a second before her icy composure returned. "Excuse me," she muttered to the room full of suits, her smile a mask of politeness. "I'll be just a moment."

Chloe stood in the center of the room, her leather jacket draped over her arm, exposing the fresh ink on her skin—a rose, thorny and raw, winding its way up her arm. Her eyes locked onto Gemma, fire meeting ice.

Gemma rose calmly. "Follow me."

The hallway echoed with unspoken hostility, each step a battle of wills. Gemma's lips curled into a mocking smirk when the office door clicked shut. "How uncivilized."

Chloe tossed her jacket aside, waves of ebony hair tumbling free as she advanced. "You fucking bitch. You have no idea who you're messing with."

Gemma arched an eyebrow. "I'm not sure what you mean, darling. But that tattoo? It looks new. What a shame, ruining your body with such tasteless ink."

"It's a memorial," Chloe hissed. "For the baby I lost because of you. You stole Damian with that bullshit marriage contract his mother shoved on him. He signed it to shield his family—his sister and me."

"Baby?" Gemma's smirk faltered. "Wait. You were pregnant?"

"Damn right. I won't forget what you took. I'm done being the victim. You won't take another thing from me."

Gemma let out a hollow laugh. "Oh, Chloe Carter, you're as naive as they come."

"Oh, my God. You're such an idiot. You think I'm naive?" Chloe snapped, hands on her hips. "I know you staged that deepfake video." 

Gemma blinked. "What video?"

Chloe whipped out her phone, her fingers steady as she hit play. She held the screen inches from Gemma's face. "Saira wouldn't sink this low to do this to her son. She may have been twisted, but she loved Damian. Watch, bitch. See what you made."

Gemma glanced at the screen and turned away. A nasty smile spread across her face. "I wouldn't watch such trash. Maybe it turns you on, but I have better things to do."

"To betray Saira's own son? Here's her 'hello' from the grave." Chloe's hand shot out, her palm cracking across Gemma's face.

"You freak." Gemma staggered, a sharp gasp escaping her as she clutched her reddening cheek.

Before Gemma could recover, Chloe grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her close until their faces were inches apart.

"If Saira were still alive, she would skin you alive," Chloe hissed. "Cut off your limbs piece by piece. She'd make you bleed."

Gemma grabbed Chloe's arm. "Is that a threat?"

"No. It's a promise. Undo whatever you're planning with that video."

Chloe unlocked herself from the bitch's grip, twisting her arm hard. 

"Oww!" Gemma coiled back.

"I'm just getting started." Chloe's fists flexed. 

"You think I made that video?" Gemma sneered, wrecking her perfect scarlet lips. Her hair was mussed, showing dark roots beneath the blonde. 

"Yeah, I know you did it."

"I'd never touch Damian like that. He loved me long before you showed up and played the homewrecker."

"He never loved you," Chloe spat, her words cutting like knives.

"Oh, but he did. You have no idea how loud his cock made me scream. You can't imagine the raw sex we had. He said he'd never had anything dirtier. Wilder. Rougher. We fucked like animals right before you slithered back into his life. You ruined everything—"

"Shut up." Chloe rolled her eyes, yanking her jacket back on. "He fucked you to forget me. But it's over. Get rid of the video, or we'll sue you for defamation."

Gemma forced a smile. "Fine. I promise you—this bad blood between us? It's only begun. I'll make you wish you were never born."

Chloe leaned in close. "Try me. Whatever you throw at me, I'll throw back twice as hard. I'm karma, bitch. I'm going to make your life hell. You'll wish you were never born."

 Rage knotted Gemma's features. She stabbed the air toward the door. "Get out, you fucking cunt!"

Chloe shot her a final, contemptuous glance. Fucking waste of space. 

"Stupid cow," she muttered, turning on her heel and leaving the so-called Rochefort queen behind.

***

Chloe skidded the motorbike to a stop, gravel spraying as she halted in front of the grand entrance. Helmet off, the adrenaline still surged through her veins from the showdown with Gemma.

But any relief evaporated when Damian stormed out, his green eyes blazing with a fury that his tailored suit did nothing to soften.

"Babe, you're home," Chloe called, her smile faltering as she caught sight of the storm brewing in his eyes.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Damian's sharp voice sliced through her attempted cheer.

Chloe blinked fast, taken aback by his tone. "What do you mean?"

"Vivianne told me everything," he snapped, closing the distance between them in two strides. "You went to Gemma's—are you out of your damn mind?"

"No. Just protective," Chloe shot back, lifting her chin, though her heart pounded for reasons beyond fear.

Damian's hands gripped her shoulders, his touch firm yet desperate. He pressed his lips to her tangled hair, the gesture both tender and possessive. "Let me do the protecting."

"But I'm your knight, and you're my king," she whispered, her defiance crumbling under his touch.

"Wrong." Damian's eyes burned with a vulnerability that pierced her defenses. "You're my queen."

"Well, this queen was pissed about the video Gemma made."

"You think I wasn't? I got home an hour ago, and you weren't here. I was going out of my mind."

His big hands cupped her jaw, pulling her closer. "You told Mina you were going shopping. You lied to her, Chloe. Don't ever do that again."

The sting of his disappointment hit harder than she expected. "I'm sorry. I was just so angry. I couldn't sit still."

The back of his hand brushed across her cheek. "Don't worry about the video. Gemma's playing the same twisted games my mother used to play. But we've got Bianca Cavalli and her media group on our side. She'll shut this down if we need her."

"Bianca's a force of nature," Chloe said, trying to ease the tension with a smile. "I remember her at the Christmas party."

Damian's lips twitched into a slight grin. "Yeah, she's fierce. I smashed one of Bianca's million-dollar vases playing hide-and-seek as a kid. Dad found a replacement at a Christie's auction, and I was grounded forever."

Chloe reached up and ruffled his golden hair. The thought of their future—kids, chaos—warmed her. But then, a wave of dizziness hit, and she gripped Damian's arm for support.

His eyes darkened with concern. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing," she deflected. "Just a long day. I met up with Val this morning. She's... cool."

Damian frowned, his instincts kicking in. "I'm glad you two are getting along, but something's off. You've been holding something back. Haven't you?"

Chloe's heart thudded, her anxiety flaring. 

Can I tell him now? Is there ever a right time?

His hand slid from her waist to her chin, tilting her face to meet his gaze. "You're pregnant."

Her eyes widened. "Dami..."

"When were you going to tell me?" he roared. "Last week, when I found the test in the bathroom drawer? Two lines, babe. Two. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears welling up. "I wanted to tell you, but with everything going on... I didn't know how or when..."

His thumbs brushed away a tear, his expression softening. "How far along?"

"Eight weeks," Chloe murmured, thinking of the nights they talked about the family they both longed for.

"Eight weeks?" Damian echoed. His hand rested against her abdomen as if he could already feel the life stirring within. "Our baby."

His supple lips brushed across her forehead, cheeks, and mouth, each kiss more claiming than the last. "We're going to have everything we ever dreamed of."

She clung to the warmth of his embrace.

But Damian pulled back, his eyes darting at the motorcycle. "One last thing, babe. No more dangerous stunts. You and our baby come first."

Chloe pouted, crossing her arms. "I've got my motorcycle license. You know I ride safely."

"Not now, babe. The stakes are too high," he said, pressing his lips on her forehead.

Chloe nodded. "This child of ours is safe. I promise."

But a shadow of doubt lingered as she looked into Damian's eyes. Their world was filled with hidden dangers, pointing to Gemma Rochefort and Mike Marino.

Deep down, Chloe knew—the worst was yet to come.

***

A/N: I had to add those character flaws. 🤔Chloe should've been honest with Damian. Live and learn, right? But great news for Damian and Chloe!

What are Gemma and Mike up to?