By morning, Chloe's penthouse was no longer just a home. It was a war room.

Legal files spread across the dining table, Rachel's laptop open with color-coded tabs, and phones buzzing every few minutes with updates from PR firms and media contacts.

Rachel paced the living room, her heels clicking against the polished floor. "I told you he wouldn't roll over. Men like this don't. He's lawyered up and . not just any lawyer. He's brought in a firm notorious for silencing victims."

Zoe sat on the ...