Agape didn't sleep that night. The hours bled into one another as she lay awake, her thoughts scattered across her bed like shattered glass. The image of Patrick with Naomi clung to her mind like a stain that refused to be washed out.
By morning, her face was expressionless, composed—but inside, she was chaos wrapped in silk.
She arrived at Harmonique Fashion House precisely at 8:00 a.m., the earliest she'd come in since her promotion to Creative Director. The office was empty, bathed in the quiet hush of morning, yet her heels clicked like gunshots on the polished floor.
She pulled out her sketchpad, but nothing came.
Designing felt like a betrayal today.
Instead, she pulled out her phone and typed a single message to her private investigator.
"I need everything you can find on Naomi. Full report. Discreet."
She didn't know when she had crossed that line—from hurt girlfriend to calculating strategist—but she had. And there was no turning back.
---
By noon, the office was bustling, and Samantha entered with her usual flair. "Boss, you look like you could set fire to a boardroom. Should I alert the emergency exits?"
Agape gave her a dry smile. "Just a long night."
Samantha set her tablet down. "You're not a 'long night' type unless something's wrong."
Agape hesitated. She trusted Samantha, but this betrayal was a wound she wasn't ready to expose.
"Not yet," Agape said softly. "But soon."
Samantha nodded, reading between the lines. "Say the word."
---
That afternoon, Agape received the file.
Naomi Jordan. 26. Model. Brand influencer. Originally from Atlanta. Recruited by Cole Enterprises last year.
But that wasn't all.
There were photos—Naomi on a yacht in Saint-Tropez, Naomi with Patrick at a discreet dinner in Dubai. Text messages recovered from Patrick's previous assistant's phone.
"She's different, Naomi. Not like Agape. She doesn't question me."
Agape closed the folder, her hand trembling.
So that's what he wanted—obedience.
---
On Sunday, she did what she never thought she would do.
She attended a Cole Enterprises open event. Patrick had invited her weeks ago. She had planned to skip it. But now she had a reason.
She arrived late, dressed in a sapphire pantsuit that shimmered subtly under the lights. Heads turned. She walked past whispers and stares, chin high.
And there she was—Naomi.
Up close, she was stunning. Rich dark skin, tight curls pinned in a gold clasp, a soft voice that oozed seduction even when silent. She stood beside Patrick like she belonged there.
Naomi spotted Agape.
Their eyes locked.
Something passed between them. Not fear. Not guilt. Something else.
Naomi smirked.
It was the final match to Agape's fire.
She approached Patrick, her voice like silk over steel.
"Patrick. You didn't mention your intern was this ambitious."
Patrick stiffened. Naomi turned, polite smile etched perfectly.
"I'm not an intern," Naomi said. "I'm the new face of the brand."
"Oh?" Agape replied. "How fitting. A beautiful distraction. But let's hope beauty comes with brains. This industry eats the soft-hearted."
Naomi leaned in just slightly. "Don't worry, Miss Lane. I've never been soft. Not even for Patrick."
Agape smiled, cold. "Then you'll fit right in."
She turned on her heel, leaving the two of them behind, but the power had shifted.
Agape was no longer a woman scorned.
She was a woman at war.
And Naomi?
Naomi wasn't just a rival.
She was a threat.
---
The next morning, Agape stood in front of her full-length mirror, layering on armor in the form of black silk, pearl earrings, and matte lipstick. She stared at her reflection not with vanity, but with precision.
She wouldn't break. Not now.
At Harmonique, the office was alive with chatter about the previous night's Cole Enterprises event. Everyone had seen the photos—Patrick, Naomi, and Agape in the same frame. Social media was a wildfire of speculation.
Inside the meeting room, she prepared for her pitch to a major investor. Samantha entered, eyes wide.
"That photo's everywhere," she whispered. "People are saying it's the new corporate love triangle."
Agape didn't blink. "Let them talk. Noise doesn't shake foundations—cracks do."
As she laid out fabric swatches and concepts, she commanded the room like a queen on a battlefield. Clients leaned forward, charmed by her vision. Even amid personal chaos, she delivered excellence.
But outside the boardroom, Patrick was waiting.
"Agape," he said when he finally caught her alone. "We need to talk."
She folded her arms. "Now you want honesty?"
"Naomi isn't—"
"Don't insult my intelligence." Her voice was ice. "I've seen the pictures. The messages. Don't lie to me."
Patrick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I didn't mean for this to happen. She was... different. Things with us got—complicated."
Agape laughed bitterly. "Complicated? Patrick, we were planning a future. You gave me a key to your place. You called me your wife."
"And I meant it," he said. "But you changed. You became so driven, so independent. I felt like you didn't need me anymore."
She stepped back, fury crackling in her eyes. "So you needed someone who would make you feel powerful. Who wouldn't challenge you."
He didn't respond.
That was answer enough.
---
That night, Agape met Samantha at a rooftop lounge. The music was smooth jazz, the crowd buzzing. Samantha handed her a martini.
"So what's next?" Samantha asked.
Agape took a long sip. "Rebuild. Reclaim. And maybe... revenge."
Samantha grinned. "Now that sounds like the woman I work for."
Agape glanced at the city lights. "He thinks he replaced me. But he hasn't even begun to understand what I'm capable of."
---
Across the city, Naomi lay in Patrick's bed, scrolling through social media posts. She paused at a photo of Agape—radiant, composed, unbothered.
Naomi frowned.
She had won the man, but lost the comfort.
Because Agape wasn't going down quietly.
And deep down, Naomi knew:
She hadn't just stolen a man.
She had declared war on a woman who had built empires from betrayal.
And war with Agape Lane?
That was a battle few survived.