Chapter 316

Serena’s POV

I felt like I was drowning in quicksand - the harder I struggled, the deeper I sank. It had been less than twenty-four hours since the plagiarism accusations first appeared, and now the situation had gone completely off the rails.

Lying in bed, I stared at my phone in disbelief. This Lance person had actually cooked up fake messages from me, complete with threats and intimidation, then posted them for the world to see. The manufactured conversation showed "me" warning him to delete his posts "or you’ll regret it."

"This is absolutely insane," I muttered, scrolling through the comments. People were going nuts over this, practically forming a digital lynch mob.

My phone rang - Maya again. We’d been glued to our phones since yesterday.

"Did you catch the latest?" I asked immediately.

"Yeah. We’re dealing with a complete nutjob," Maya sounded exhausted. I could picture her pacing around Quinn headquarters in London, probably having pulled an all-nighter. "The PR team is hitting brick walls. Every time we get something taken down, it’s back up within an hour."

"He faked messages from me, Maya. Using my actual profile picture." My voice cracked slightly. "How is that not illegal?"

"It’s not. Our legal team is putting together a case now." She paused. "Ethan’s helping too. He thinks we should ride out the initial shitstorm before making any major moves."

I shot upright, suddenly furious. "Ride it out?"

"I know, I know. I nearly tore his head off for suggesting it too." I could hear the slight smile in her voice. "But he might have a point about timing. Right now, people are too worked up to listen to reason."

I massaged my temples, feeling a killer headache coming on. "My metadata evidence isn’t doing jack shit. People just assume I doctored the dates."

Ryan appeared in the doorway, coffee mug in hand, immediately sensing my distress from my body language.

"I need to talk to Ethan directly," I told Maya. "Can you patch him through?"

There was some shuffling, then my brother’s voice came through. "Serena, how are you hanging in there?"

"How do you think?" I snapped, then immediately felt guilty. "Sorry. I’m just... this is a complete nightmare."

"I know. We’re pulling out all the stops from this end," Ethan assured me. "I’ve got people digging into this Lance Draven character. Something smells fishy about his background."

"He’s straight-up making up messages now, Ethan. Making me look like I’m some kind of thug."

"I saw. Don’t take the bait - that’s exactly what he wants."

Ryan moved closer, reading the tension in my shoulders. He sat on the edge of the bed, his presence immediately grounding me.

After hanging up, I tossed my phone aside and buried my face in my hands. "This is a total disaster."

Ryan’s arm wrapped around my shoulders, his steady strength calming my frayed nerves. "Let me help you."

"How?" I looked up at him. "Your involvement will just make everyone say I’m hiding behind my powerful husband."

"Not if we play this smart." His jaw was set in that determined way I’d come to recognize, his protective instincts kicking into high gear. "Blackwood Industries has one of the best digital forensics teams in the country."

"Digital forensics?"

"Yes. They can analyze those fake messages, trace IP addresses, maybe even nail this bastard for tampering." He took my hand, his determination evident in his grip. "We do this quietly, behind the scenes. No public statement from me, no obvious Blackwood muscle."

I hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Okay. But I need to be in the loop on every step."

"Absolutely." He squeezed my hand, his authority and confidence reassuring. "Get dressed. We’re going to war."

Two hours later, I sat in a sleek conference room at Blackwood headquarters, surrounded by Ryan’s tech security team. They’d been briefed on the situation and were already tearing apart Lance Draven’s digital footprint.

"Mrs. Blackwood," a woman with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense haircut addressed me, "I’m Vanessa, head of digital security. We’ve been dissecting the supposed messages you sent."

She pulled up some technical-looking data on the screen. "These are definitely bogus. The metadata shows inconsistencies that wouldn’t be present in genuine messages."

"Can we prove that publicly?" I leaned forward, hope flickering in my chest.

"Absolutely. But there’s something else that’ll blow your mind." She clicked to another screen. "We’ve been tracking the digital breadcrumbs associated with Lance Draven’s accounts. There’s something weird about the pattern."

Ryan frowned, his business instincts on high alert. "What do you mean?"

"His social media presence only went live three months ago. Before that, the account existed but was basically dead. And here’s where it gets interesting - the geographical data shows the account was being used primarily from London until recently, when it suddenly switched to New York."

"Someone passed off the account?" I asked, confused.

"Possibly. Or they’re using some serious tech magic to mask their location." Vanessa tapped a few keys. "But what’s clear is that this isn’t some random nobody who happened to create similar work. This is a targeted hit job."

Ryan’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then looked at me with intense focus. "Simon just sent me something that’s going to piss you off."

He pulled up an email on the conference room screen. It contained a series of photos - Lance Draven at various industry events over the past few months. What hit me immediately was how he always seemed to be lurking in the shadows, watching, observing.

And in one photo, he was chatting with someone I recognized instantly.

"Are you kidding me..." I moved closer to the screen, my blood turning to ice.

"Ivy Hart," Ryan confirmed grimly, his anger beginning to simmer. "Sophie’s sister."

"Holy shit," I whispered, the pieces suddenly slamming together.

Vanessa looked between us. "You know this woman?"

"Oh, we have history," I said, my shock morphing into ice-cold determination. "And this just became personal as hell."

Ryan’s expression had shifted into something absolutely lethal. "Keep digging," he instructed the team, his commanding presence making everyone snap to attention. "I want everything you can find on both of these people."

As we left the conference room, Ryan pulled me into an empty office, his protective instincts in overdrive. "This changes everything."

"It explains the whole damn thing," I said, pacing the room like I was ready to explode. "Ivy has always had it out for me. She’s a designer too, but she’s never gotten the recognition she thinks she deserves."

"And she’s tight with Sophie," Ryan added, his jaw clenched with barely contained fury. "This isn’t just about your designs. This is about screwing both of us over."

I stopped pacing and looked at him, my resolve hardening. "I’m going to London. I’m handling this face-to-face."

My phone pinged with a notification. Another post from Lance Draven:

[Received more threats from Serena’s legal team. They’re trying to silence the truth. Stay tuned for the FULL expose of how Dreamland Studio built its empire on stolen designs and intimidation.]

My hands clenched into fists, ready for battle.