Page 79 of In A Mood For Mr. Wrong

She tilts her head at me, her blue eyes gleaming with triumph. “We won.”

I smirk, leaning down so my lips brush the shell of her ear. “Of course, we did.”

She exhales, her fingers tightening against my jacket. “What now?”

I glance at Eleanor, who is already slipping toward the exit, her posture stiff, her entireworldcollapsing around her.

I meet Margot’s gaze, my voice low. “Now?” I murmur. “Now, wefinish this.”

53

MARGOT

Eleanor King does not go down quietly. I knew she wouldn’t. Even as she slipped out of the press event last night, her face carefully blank but her fingers clutching her phone in a death grip, I knew she was already scheming. Already calculating her next move. And now we’re about to find out exactly what she has left in her arsenal.

ThePerfectly Matchedheadquarters is eerily quiet as Grayson and I wait outside the boardroom, the tension wrapping around us like an invisible noose. The sleek, modern design of the office feels almost clinical tonight, sharp black marble floors reflecting the dim, golden glow of the recessed ceiling lights, glass walls offering a panoramic view of the city skyline. Normally, I find comfort in the view, the twinkling lights stretching out infinitely beyond us, but right now, all I can think about is the decision happening behind those closed doors. The silence isheavy. The kind that settles deep in your bones, pressing in from all sides. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, rain drizzles against the glass in a rhythmic patter, the city below flickering in a thousand golden hues. It should be beautiful. Itshould bepeaceful. But all I can feel is the slow, agonizing drum of waiting.

Grayson stands beside me, his reflection mirrored against the window, his posture rigid, his jaw tight. The tension in his shoulders ispalpable. I want to reach out, smooth the furrow in his brow, tell him that no matter what happens next, we’llface it together. But before I can, the boardroom doors finally swing open. And the world tilts.

Olivia steps out first, her tablet clutched in both hands, her expression unreadable.

Grayson’s voice is low, sharp. “Tell me.”

She exhales, her chin lifting just slightly. “It’s done. Eleanor’s out.”

Silence. Then, relief. A slow, creeping,all-consumingrelief spreads through my chest, my legs suddenly weak from the weight of it. Wewon. Grayson’s exhale is measured, controlled, but I see the tension in his shoulders ease just slightly.

“Finally,” he mutters.

But before we can celebrate, before we can even breathe in therealityof what this means, Olivia’s next words shatter the moment.

“She’s suing.”

The room freezes.

Grayson’s entire body goesrigid. His jaw locks, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

I feel the blood drain from my face. “She’swhat?”

Olivia sighs, handing Grayson her tablet. “She filed an injunction an hour ago. She’s suingPerfectly Matchedfor wrongful removal and breach of contract. She claims she was unlawfully forced out and that the board’s vote was manipulated byoutside interference.”

Ilaugh, a hollow, disbelieving sound. “You mean thetruth? The veryrealfinancial fraud we exposed?”

Olivia’s lips press together. “She’s twisting it. She’s framing it as aconspiracy.”

Grayson’s grip on the tablet istight. “Who’s representing her?”

Olivia’s eyes darken. “Sam Whitmore.”

Grayson swears under his breath.

My stomachtwists. Sam Whitmore. The name alone sends a cold chill down my spine.

Sam Whitmore isn’t just any corporate attorney, he’s a legend, a courtroompredator. He built his career defending theworstkinds of people andwinning. CEOs accused of embezzlement, politicians drowning in scandal, billionaires fighting to cover up theirmanymisdeeds, Whitmore doesn’t justrepresentthem. Hesavesthem, and now, he’s representing Eleanor.

I exhale sharply. “She didn’t just want any lawyer she wanted aweapon.”

Grayson clenches his jaw. “Whitmore doesn’t take cases unless heknowshe can win. He’s not just trying to get Eleanor reinstated, he’s trying togutus in the process.”

---