Chapter 10: Vanessa’s Breaking Point

Vanessa slammed her apartment door shut, the sound echoing in the small space. The echo was a mirror of the turmoil raging inside her. Damian. The name was a curse on her lips, a burning brand on her soul. He had rejected her. Not once, but twice. The humiliation was a bitter pill she couldn't swallow.

It wasn't just about bruised pride. Vanessa was used to getting what she wanted. Men fell at her feet. Opportunities opened like magic doors. But this… this was personal. Damian's rejection felt like a direct attack, a calculated blow aimed at her core.

She wanted him. More than she had ever wanted anything. It wasn't just desire; it was a sense of entitlement. She deserved him. She was Vanessa. Beautiful, successful, sophisticated. Everything a man like Damian should crave.

And that stupid little nobody – Emma – had somehow, inexplicably, stolen him. The thought ignited a fresh wave of fury. Emma. The name tasted like poison. That mousy, insignificant girl had somehow managed to capture Damian's attention, his affection, his everything.

Vanessa paced her apartment, her designer heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She felt trapped, suffocated by the injustice of it all. No more games. No more subtle maneuvers. It was time for war.

She snatched her phone from the coffee table, her fingers trembling slightly as she dialed Olivia's number. Each ring felt like a countdown to unleashing the storm inside her. "I need to ruin her," Vanessa hissed into the phone, her voice tight with barely suppressed rage. "I need you to help me."

Silence stretched on the other end of the line, a heavy, pregnant pause. Vanessa held her breath, her knuckles white as she gripped the phone. She needed Olivia. She needed her help to unleash her wrath on Emma.

Then Olivia spoke, her voice cold and measured, a stark contrast to Vanessa's fiery outburst. "I already have a plan."

A cruel smile touched Vanessa's lips. Good.

Olivia's Dark PastOlivia wasn't just Vanessa's best friend; she was her confidante, her strategist, her partner in crime. But beneath the polished surface, Olivia was calculating, smart, and, when necessary, dangerous. She possessed a sharp mind and an even sharper resolve, forged in the fires of her own past experiences.

And she had her own, deeply personal reason for wanting Emma gone. It wasn't solely about loyalty to Vanessa. It was about settling an old score, about preventing history from repeating itself.

Years ago, Olivia had been in Emma's shoes. A young, ambitious designer, brimming with talent and passion. She'd worked tirelessly, pouring her heart and soul into her creations. She was on the cusp of greatness, the future stretched before her, sparkling with promise.

But then, disaster struck. She had been ruthlessly destroyed. Not by a lack of talent, but by the calculated malice of another woman. A woman who saw Olivia as a threat, as an obstacle to her own ambition.

The woman had systematically dismantled Olivia's career, spreading rumors, sabotaging her designs, and turning her colleagues against her. Olivia had watched, helpless, as her dreams crumbled into dust. She lost everything: her job, her reputation, her confidence.

The experience had left deep scars, a simmering resentment that had never truly healed. It had transformed her, hardening her heart and sharpening her focus. She vowed never to be vulnerable again, never to be a victim. She would be the one holding the strings, the one pulling the levers.

The woman's name? Ironically, it had been another Emma. A name that now triggered a visceral reaction within Olivia, a reminder of the pain and humiliation she had endured.

This wasn't just about helping Vanessa get her man. It was about revenge. Revenge against the world that had once taken everything from her. Revenge against the naive, talented young women who dared to believe in their dreams. Revenge against the name 'Emma' and everything it represented.

This time, she would be the one doing the destroying. She would ensure that this Emma, this new rising star, would suffer the same fate she had.

The Plan Begins"Listen carefully," Olivia said, her voice a low, deliberate hum in Vanessa's ear. "This has to be executed perfectly. No mistakes."

She outlined her plan, step by step, with meticulous detail. Each stage was carefully crafted, designed to inflict maximum damage on Emma's career and reputation. Olivia had been planning this for days, anticipating Vanessa's call and channeling her own darkness into a strategy of calculated destruction.

The plan wasn't just about getting Emma fired. That was too simple, too clean. Olivia wanted to utterly humiliate her, to strip her of her confidence and leave her a broken shell of her former self.

She explained how they would subtly manipulate situations, planting seeds of doubt in Damian's mind, discrediting Emma's designs, and making her appear incompetent and unprofessional. They would use her own ambition against her, creating opportunities for her to stumble and fall.

Olivia's plan was intricate, a web of deceit and manipulation designed to trap Emma and leave her with no escape. It was ruthless, cold, and utterly devoid of mercy.

By the time she was finished, Vanessa was smiling. A slow, satisfied smile that stretched across her face, transforming her features into something almost predatory.

Emma wouldn't just lose her job. She wouldn't just be embarrassed. She would be completely ruined. Her career would be decimated, her reputation tarnished beyond repair. She would become a cautionary tale, a warning to other ambitious young designers who dared to dream too big.

And Damian? He would see Emma for who she truly was: a fraud, a liar, a schemer. He would be disgusted, repulsed. He would realize that he had been blinded by her supposed talent, that he had almost made a terrible mistake.

He would hate her. And then, he would finally see Vanessa for who she really was: the woman he was always meant to be with. The perfect partner, the sophisticated companion, the ultimate prize.

Vanessa's smile widened. Game on.

Meanwhile… Damian's Obsession GrowsEmma was in the office late, the glow of her computer screen illuminating her focused face. She was immersed in her work, lost in a world of fabrics, colors, and designs. She was so engrossed that she was oblivious to the presence behind her.

She didn't hear the soft footsteps approaching, didn't sense the dark gaze fixed upon her. She was completely unaware that Damian was watching her, his presence a silent, looming shadow in the dimly lit office.

His eyes were dark, intense. Hungry. They devoured her every movement, her every gesture. He had been fighting it for weeks, trying to maintain a professional distance, trying to control the overwhelming desire that threatened to consume him.

He had tried to focus on work, to bury himself in spreadsheets and meetings, to distract himself from the constant, nagging thought of Emma. He had tried to remind himself of his responsibilities, of the boundaries he couldn't cross.

Tried to control himself.

But it was impossible.

Emma was everywhere. In his thoughts, in his dreams, in the very air he breathed. Her image was seared into his mind, her voice echoed in his ears. He couldn't escape her, couldn't deny the powerful pull she exerted on him.

And now, seeing her here, alone, bathed in the soft glow of the computer screen… the temptation was unbearable. He felt a desperate need to be near her, to touch her, to claim her.

He couldn't hold back anymore. The dam had broken, and a flood of raw, untamed desire surged through him. He was lost, consumed, and utterly powerless to resist.

"Emma," his voice was low, almost a rough whisper, cutting through the silence of the office. It was a sound filled with longing, with a barely suppressed intensity that made the hairs on her neck stand on end.

She looked up, startled, her eyes widening in surprise. "Sir?" she said, the word sounding small and uncertain in the vastness of the office.

He ignored the formality, the professional distance. He wanted her to see him, not as her boss, but as a man, a man consumed by his desire for her.

"You should go home. It's late," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the air. He knew it was a weak excuse, a pathetic attempt to justify his presence. But he couldn't help himself.

She hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly. "I still have work to do," she replied, her eyes flickering back to the screen. She was dedicated, driven, and determined to prove herself.

"Forget the work," he said, his voice growing more insistent. He stepped closer, closing the distance between them. The air crackled with unspoken tension, with the magnetic pull that drew them together.

Too close.

Her breath hitched in her throat. She could feel his presence, his heat, his intensity. It was overwhelming, intoxicating.

And then—his hand cupped her chin, his fingers gently tracing the curve of her jawline. His touch was electric, sending shivers down her spine.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he murmured, his voice a husky whisper against her ear. His eyes were locked on hers, filled with a desperate plea, a raw vulnerability that she had never seen before.

She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. "Damian…" she whispered, her voice barely audible. She knew this was wrong, that it was a dangerous game they were playing. But she couldn't deny the powerful attraction she felt for him, the undeniable spark that ignited whenever they were near each other.

But before she could speak, before she could protest, before she could succumb—

He kissed her.

Not soft. Not gentle. Not a tentative exploration.

It was possessive. Desperate. Uncontrollable. A kiss born of pent-up desire, of weeks of suppressed longing. His lips crashed against hers, demanding, devouring, leaving her breathless and reeling.

And this time?

She didn't push him away.