[Liam’s POV]
Jasmine looked absolutely fucking stunning in that red dress.
I'd spent an embarrassing amount of time picking it out, standing in some overpriced boutique like a man possessed, imagining how the deep crimson would look against her skin. Turns out my imagination was shit compared to reality.
The way it hugged her curves made it seem like it had been designed specifically for her body. She was radiant up there — confident, brilliant, everything I'd watched her become over these past weeks.
This was her moment to shine. And Christ, she was absolutely radiant.
Then everything went to hell with one sharp, calculated question from some asshole in the crowd.
"Is it true that all three Blackwood men have been seduced by you?"
The photos that followed weren't explicit. Nothing that crossed legal lines. But the truth was written in every frame like a fucking billboard: these weren't professional moments. They were personal. Intimate.
I moved without thinking — toward her, toward Jasmine, because nothing else mattered except getting to her.
But the reporters surged forward like sharks, cutting me off with shouted questions and camera flashes. I tried to push through, calling her name, but she was already backing away.
Already running.
And I couldn't reach her in time.
Her headset lay abandoned on the stage floor. Her clipboard dropped beside the podium. The room erupted into chaos — shouting questions, cameras flashing, the electric buzz of a scandal unfolding in real time.
But all I could think about was finding Jasmine.
I stepped up to the microphone and cut through the noise.
"This press conference is over," I said, voice carrying with deadly calm. "These photos were taken without consent and represent a gross violation of privacy. We will be pursuing immediate legal action against everyone involved."
Then I walked off that stage, not giving a single fuck about damage control.
I tore through the building, checking every room, every corridor. She hadn't used the main exit — security confirmed that much. Panic was clawing at my chest when I passed a partially open bathroom door and heard a familiar voice inside.
Adelyn. Fucking laughing.
"Oh, you should have seen her face when those photos came up," she was saying. "She just crumbled completely. It was beautiful."
I froze outside that door.
"The photographer got exactly what we needed," she continued. "And that journalist you recommended asked the perfect question. Your commission will be transferred by tomorrow."
Commission. This had been planned. Orchestrated.
And we'd let it happen.
Jasmine had warned us. Weeks ago, months ago — she'd told us Adelyn was dangerous. Begged us to take it seriously. And what had we done? Sent her on a business trip. Patted Jasmine's head and promised we'd handle it.
We hadn't handled anything. We'd given Adelyn time to plan and then welcomed her back like nothing had happened.
This wasn't just Adelyn's fault. It was ours.
Something cracked inside me. Not rage — that would come later. This was something worse. The sick, cold realization that I'd let this happen to the woman I loved.
When Adelyn emerged from the bathroom looking pleased with herself, I was waiting. Asher appeared at my shoulder, radiating cold fury. Finn flanked the other side, his usual charm replaced by something dangerous.
"Your ID," I said. "Now."
"I don't understand—"
I snatched the badge from her neck and snapped it in half. The plastic cracked like a gunshot.
"You're fired. Effective immediately."
Her face went pale, then red. "You can't just—"
"I can and I have." I stepped closer. "But that's not all. You're going to be hearing from our lawyers. Defamation. Invasion of privacy. Tortious interference. Corporate sabotage." I let each word land. "You orchestrated an attack that damaged this company's reputation, its stock price, and the career of one of our employees. You'll be paying for every cent of it."
"You have no proof—"
"I just heard you bragging about commissions and photographers," Asher said flatly. "So did half this hallway."
I glanced back. He was right — employees had gathered, watching the confrontation with wide eyes. Good. Let them see.
"Security," I called out.
Two guards appeared immediately.
"Escort this woman off the premises. She is terminated for cause and banned from all Blackwood properties." I looked at her one more time. "We'll see you in court. I hope whatever they paid you was worth it, because you're going to need every penny for legal fees."
Adelyn's mouth opened and closed. For once, she had nothing to say.
The security guards flanked her, each taking an arm. Not roughly — but firmly enough that everyone watching knew this wasn't a voluntary departure.
"This way, ma'am," one of them said.
They walked her through the main corridor. Past the open office doors. Past the clusters of employees who'd heard the commotion and come to watch. Past the reception desk where the same people she'd gossiped with for months now stared at her like she was a stranger.
The walk of shame she'd tried to give Jasmine? Now it was hers.
I watched until she disappeared into the elevator, then turned back to what mattered.
Finding Jasmine.
I continued my search, hope and desperation warring in my chest as I made my way to our office. Maybe she'd gone there to collect her things. To wait for us. To let us explain.
When I opened the door, my heart didn't just sink — it plummeted through the floor.
She had been there. But not for the reasons I'd hoped.
The red dress I'd chosen was folded neatly on the conference table, the silk still holding the faint scent of her perfume. Beside it sat the elegant shoebox Asher had given her, pristine and untouched. Finn's velvet box containing the diamond earrings completed the devastating display.
Even her phone was there, powered off and silent on the desk.
She had taken nothing. Nothing.
No note. No message. No explanation. Just absence — the kind of complete erasure that spoke louder than any words could have.
She hadn't left because of the photos. Not really.
She'd left because we'd promised to protect her and we hadn't. Because she'd trusted us to handle Adelyn and we'd treated it like a minor inconvenience. Because she'd finally stopped waiting for other people to save her and realized she had to save herself.
From us.
That was the worst part. She wasn't running from the scandal. She was running from the men who'd looked her in the eyes and made promises we hadn't kept.
I picked up that red dress with trembling hands, remembering the way her face had lit up when she'd first put it on. The way she'd reached for all our hands outside the villa. The confidence radiating from her as she'd taken the stage.
Now she had left it all behind.
I sank into the nearest chair, still holding her dress, and felt something inside me break.
She'd asked us for one thing. One thing. Handle Adelyn. Protect her from the woman who was hunting her.
And we'd sent Adelyn on a fucking business trip and called it done.
I pressed the red silk to my face, breathing in the last traces of her perfume, and made a promise to the empty room.
I would find her. I would make this right. And I would spend the rest of my life earning back what we'd lost — if she'd let me.
How do you live with the knowledge that you failed to protect the one person who mattered most?