The video replayed itself in an endless loop on Damon's screen, each second sinking like lead into his chest. Jasmine. Smiling. Leaning into Lena's ear. Whispering those haunting words.
"I'll get him to trust me. Then I'll break him."
The words weren't loud, but they were clear. So painfully clear.
The room was silent, save for the hum of the AC and the occasional honk from the city outside. For once, the usual confidence in Damon's posture vanished. He stood there, frozen, like someone had unplugged his spirit.
Could it be edited? Could it be AI? Could it be another manipulation?
He wanted to believe that.
But deep down, a storm had already started brewing. Not just because of what he saw—but because of everything he felt.
The way Jasmine had suddenly reappeared in his life.
The timing.
The intensity.
The ease with which she'd stepped back into his inner circle.
He clenched his fists, jaw tight, and turned toward the living room.
She was still asleep—peaceful, unaware of the chaos unraveling within him. The betrayal hurt more than Lena's, more than Brandon's, more than anything he'd felt in years.
Because he had started to hope again.
And hope is a dangerous thing to kill.
---
Jasmine stirred awake to the smell of burnt toast and tension.
She sat up, groggy, rubbing her eyes. Damon was by the kitchen island, cooking in silence, back turned, shoulders stiff.
"Hey," she said, voice soft. "You didn't sleep?"
"No," he said flatly.
She noticed the tone. Cold. Foreign. Off.
She walked over, slowly. "Something happen?"
He turned to face her.
His eyes didn't hold anger. They held something worse.
Disappointment.
He slid his phone across the marble counter. "Explain that."
Jasmine looked down.
The video.
It played again. On mute.
Her heart stopped.
She didn't speak for several seconds.
"I can explain," she said finally.
"You better," Damon replied.
She closed her eyes, gathered herself, and spoke slowly. "It was staged."
He blinked. "What?"
"I met Lena on purpose. I knew she'd come for me eventually. I fed her a story—that I was tired, broken, that I hated how you tossed me aside. I played the role. I said what she wanted to hear."
"Why?"
"To get close. To know her next move. You wanted intel—I got it."
Damon looked at her, searching for the lie.
But Jasmine's eyes didn't waver.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.
"Because you would've tried to stop me."
She stepped closer.
"And because if I failed, I didn't want you to carry the guilt."
There was a long silence between them. The city buzzed below, unaware that trust was hanging by a thread inside that penthouse.
Damon looked away. "I don't know what to believe anymore."
"Then believe what you feel," she whispered. "Because I've never stopped caring. Not for a second."
His breath was shallow. His heart? Torn between instinct and history.
And still—despite everything—he didn't push her away.
---
Meanwhile, Lena stood in her high-rise apartment, sipping champagne, watching the rain smear the city lights. She had sent the video herself. Anonymously. Carefully edited to cast just enough doubt without making it too clean.
She knew Damon. He was controlled, logical. But when it came to love, he faltered. He became human.
"Let them burn each other down," she murmured to herself.
Brandon walked in, dropping his coat. "Board meeting's in four days. You sure we want this kind of heat now?"
"Perfect timing," she said. "By the time he realizes it's a trap, it'll be too late."
"What if Jasmine flips it again?"
"She's already compromised. Whether she was acting or not, Damon will never trust her the same way. That's all we needed."
Brandon chuckled. "And when it's over?"
Lena's gaze hardened. "Then we erase Talon. And we rebuild it in my name."
---
Back in the city's CBD, Sasha—still rattled from her call with Jasmine—sat in a dim-lit café, laptop open, reading through internal L&D documents she'd been too scared to open before.
Shell transactions.
Influencer payouts with ghost receipts.
An entire army of bots used to drive fake engagement.
Her stomach churned.
She had gotten into crypto because she believed in freedom. Digital liberation. Financial equality. But this? This was a con.
She took a deep breath, opened a secure email, and typed:
To: Jasmine O.
Subject: I'm In.
Attached were dozens of files.
Her conscience was no longer for sale.
---
That evening, Damon sat alone at his desk, still processing.
The video. The explanation. The silence.
He hated this feeling.
Not knowing.
Not being sure.
His life had been built on calculated risks. Market trends. Logic. But emotions? They didn't follow rules. They didn't obey algorithms.
And Jasmine… she was the anomaly.
She always had been.
His phone buzzed again.
It was Tielen.
The quiet, shadowy figure who ran all Damon's offshore security affairs and background checks.
Tielen: "The video you received was partially AI. Voice spliced. Body movement is Jasmine's. Words are not."
Damon stared at the message.
Relief.
And rage.
Someone had tried to weaponize his feelings.
He stood up.
"Game on."
---
The next day, Jasmine received a call from Sasha.
"She's preparing to move all funds to an offshore holding company registered in Dubai. They're calling it a 'merger' with a shell called CypherX."
"What's the timeline?" Jasmine asked.
"Seventy-two hours. But Lena's planning to fake a PR crisis tomorrow—to create cover."
"I need proof. Paper trails."
"I'm sending a cloud folder. But be careful. If they trace it back to me…"
"They won't," Jasmine promised. "You're doing the right thing."
After the call, she met Damon outside a private airport hangar. He was dressed casually in a black hoodie and jeans, but his eyes were laser-focused again.
"You were right," he said, finally.
She exhaled. "Thank God."
"I'm sorry I doubted you."
"I'd doubt me too," she said with a smile.
He stepped closer. "Let's finish this."
Jasmine's smile faded into steel. "Let's."
---
Together, they flew to Mombasa—where one of Brandon's dummy companies had secretly been registered. Tielen had arranged for a local data forensics team to decrypt files on a physical server that Lena believed had been destroyed.
But it wasn't.
And on that server?
Everything.
Emails.
Bank logs.
Transaction flows.
Blackmail photos.
Fake endorsements.
Contracts between Empire Lux and L&D Ventures.
And more damning than all—a signed agreement naming Lena as CEO of Talon Digital, pending the successful "transition" of Damon's shares.
They had her.
---
By the time the plane returned to Nairobi, Damon and Jasmine knew what had to happen.
Not just exposing Lena.
But taking back Talon, publicly, and burning every bridge behind them.
As they stood on the tarmac, wind blowing, the city skyline behind them, Damon took Jasmine's hand.
"No matter what happens next," he said, "we finish this together."
Jasmine nodded. "Always."
---