When Naylor saw the headline, she clicked on it instantly.


    A livestream recording popped up-someone had captured the exact moment the camera lingered on Sylvie. The audio caught Jarrod''s words, clear as day: "This is my wife, Elodie."


    Jarrod himself wasn''t in the frame, but Sylvie''s reaction was her face visibly drained of color.


    The video had been reposted so many times, the quality was now a blurry mess.


    Naylor scrolled through thements.


    The thread was a swarm of activity.


    What made this video so fascinating was that Jarrod hade right out and introduced his wife, no hesitation, no ambiguity. He made no effort to involve Sylvie in any way.


    As a result, nearly everyment spected about Sylvie''s intentions, hinting that whatever ns she might have had, they''d clearly failed.


    Most people probably had no idea who Sylvie was-but everyone knew Jarrod.


    The Silverstein heir, everypany or investment he touched seemed to turn to gold. He was a fixture in the finance world, and his looks didn''t hurt-he''d been the subject of interviews, and more than once his photos had gone viral just for his face and build alone.


    A single candid photo of him could easily rack up hundreds of thousands of likes.


    When someone like that was suddenly at the center of a scandal, the story spread like wildfire.


    Yet all the video really showed was Jarrod calmly introducing his wife-there was nothing you could criticize.


    So the bacsh quickly shifted toward Sylvie.


    Naylor checked the trending stats, frowning in confusion. "Why hasn''t the Silverstein family shut this down yet?"


    Sylvie was already aware of what had happened.


    No matter how thick-skinned she was, some of thements still left her breathless with anger.


    Yesterday, there hadn''t been a hint of drama online, and now, out of nowhere, the


    story was everywhere-her face exposed for all to see.


    She took a deep breath, realizing this wasn''t going to be easy to fix.


    She dialed Jarrod immediately.


    No answer for a long time.


    She had to call Keith instead.


    Keith picked up. "Ms. Fielding?"


    "Where''s Jarrod? I need to speak with him."


    Keith sounded busy. "Mr. Silverstein is in an international video conference. I''m


    afraid he won''t be avable until it''s over."


    Sylvie clenched her phone, frowning. "Any idea how long that''ll be?"


    Keith was honest. "It''s hard to say at the moment."


    A headache began throbbing behind her eyes. She knew international meetings didn''t just end on demand.


    "When he''s done, please let him know I need to talk to him. It''s urgent."


    "Of course, Ms. Fielding."


    Sylvie stared at her phone for a long time. Jarrod was tied up with work, unaware of the storm brewing online. The fact that the video was exploding at this exact moment made every second feel suffocating.


    She couldn''t control the narrative.


    All she could do was wait for Jarrod to finish and hope he could help her clean up


    the mess.


    Meanwhile


    Selma was running into a wall herself.


    Today was supposed to be a gathering with a few of the society wives.


    But when she arrived, she was toldst minute-that it had been canceled.


    She could see one of their cars still parked outside.


    That stung.


    Selma was no stranger to these games; she''d wed her way up and knew exactly what was going on.


    In this world, the men were one thing-but the wives'' circle was a world of its own, even more intricate, Over tea and cards, they''d share gossip, probe for information about each other''s families, and maneuver business deals in ways their husbands couldn''t.


    But there was one thing that united them more than anything else: their attitude toward homewreckers gold diggers, mistresses-call them what you will.


    There were no real secrets in their circles; word always got out. And today, it was


    clear that the wives had heard thetest rumors as well.