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SEAN

The conference room at Montclair Protection Services feels like a war room today. I've gathered my best people—my investigation team that handles the sensitive cases requiring more than muscle. The morning light streams through the windows, casting long shadows across the polished oak table where three of my most trusted team members wait.

“What do we have on Camille Ross?” I drop her name like a grenade into the silent room.

Cal, our cyber specialist, clicks his laptop. His fingers move across the keyboard with practiced efficiency, the blue light from his screen reflecting off his glasses.

“On the surface? Twenty-seven, beauty blogger turned skincare influencer. Around twenty thousand followers before this drama. Now? Pushing three hundred thousand and climbing.”

“The general public loves a good scandal, huh,” I mutter, leaning against the edge of the table.

“That's just the beginning.” Cal turns his screen toward me. The graph on display shows a near-vertical line of growth. “Lookat these analytics. Her engagement spiked almost overnight. That doesn't happen organically, not like this.”

“Bots?”

“Some. But there's more.” He pulls up another screen showing a timeline of posts and shares. “Her posts attacking Lemon LLC were amplified by several high-profile accounts within minutes of posting. Almost like…”

“Almost like they were waiting for it,” I finish. I feel a familiar tension in my shoulders. The kind I get when something doesn't add up on a protection detail.

Camille’s online footprint spreads out in front of me like a roadmap to nowhere. I scroll through a series of posts. I grunt. They’re too clean, too fast, too well-targeted for a small influencer without any backing.

Dani, my head of investigations, leans forward. Her dark hair is pulled back in a severe ponytail, matching her no-nonsense attitude. “We checked her background. Until two months ago, she was struggling. Missed rent twice. Then suddenly, new apartment, upgraded equipment, designer clothes.”

“Payoff?”

“We can’t prove it yet, but yeah, looks that way.” She slides a folder across the table. “To everyone else, she went viral off one accusation. The public reaction, influencer reposts, and press traction are given. But here, credit card statements show purchases she couldn't afford before. Someone's financing her newfound lifestyle.”

I rub my clean-shaven jaw. “Keep digging. Something doesn't add up.”

Marcus speaks up from the corner where he's been observing. “What about the timing of the attacks? Is there a pattern?”

“Great question.” Cal's voice drops as he pulls up a new window on his laptop. “There’s the curious question of thetiming of her social posts. They're coordinated with major media outlets within minutes. Someone's feeding her information about when stories are dropping.”

“Or she's feeding them.” I stand up, pacing the length of the conference room. The city skyline stretches out beyond the windows, but my focus is on the case. “Or someone else is coordinating both.”

The room goes quiet as they watch me process. I've been in this business long enough to recognize a hit job. This isn't random internet drama. This is calculated.

“What about the package deliveries?” I ask, stopping my pacing. “Any leads on who sent them?”

Dani shakes her head. “One thing to keep in mind is that these hate mails aren’t out of nature during a hate train. Celebrities often get disturbing things delivered to them.”

“True. But based on how coordinated the media attacks are, this could also be orchestrated. Perhaps part crazies, part coordinated attack. They may be hoping this will blow over without proper investigation to prove that this might be a planned scheme.”

“I agree with Sean,” Marcus says. “The deliveries are paid in cash, different courier services each time. Whoever's doing this knows how to cover their tracks. And that suggests professional involvement. Not just an angry influencer with a grudge.”

I give a slow nod. “My thoughts as well. This is too coordinated, too precise.”

“What's your connection to Ms. Sinclair anyway?” Cal asks, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Jen mentioned you've known her for years.”

“Keep this quiet,” I say, ignoring his question. “I don't want anyone knowing what we've found until we're sure. Keep digging into Camille's finances, her connections, and her social circle. Find the link.”

“What about Ms. Sinclair?” Dani asks, closing her folder. “Will you be handling her security? Any of our top agents could do that. Nate is an excellent option.”

“I'll handle Wren.” The familiar way her name slips out catches me off guard. “Ms. Sinclair,” I correct myself, ignoring the knowing look Dani and Cal exchange.

“Dig deeper into her connections. Find out who she met within the last three months.”

“On it, boss.” Cal closes his laptop with a snap.