📧 The Scent of Treachery: Electra’s Text Trap

The crisis meeting at Forrester Creations was less about couture and more about corporate espionage. Ridge and Steffy sat across the massive boardroom table from Carter Walton and R.J., their faces etched with confusion and rising alarm. The subject: Electra.

Electra, the brilliant but enigmatic new designer, had been a whirlwind of success—and trouble—since her arrival. Her designs were revolutionary, but her behavior was erratic, marked by sudden, frantic bursts of secrecy and late-night, hushed phone calls. Now, the trouble had manifested as a series of strange, cryptic text messages found accidentally on her discarded laptop in the design studio.

.

.

.

“They look like code, Ridge,” Steffy said, sliding the printed texts across the table. “Mentions of ‘The Vault,’ ‘Red Thread,’ and an alarming number of references to ‘Phase Two.’ She claims they’re drafts for a dystopian novel she’s writing.”

“A novel?” Ridge scoffed, snatching the papers. “This smells like corporate sabotage, not a paperback plot. The timing of these texts aligns perfectly with the recent security breaches and the disappearance of the specialized fabric samples.”

Carter Walton, the ever-vigilant legal counsel, leaned in, adjusting his tie. “The content is concerning, but the style, Ridge—the style of writing… it’s oddly familiar. The overly dramatic phrasing, the almost poetic threats. It reminds me of someone we dealt with years ago.”

Steffy nodded slowly, a chill running down her spine. “Yes. I was trying not to say it, but the whole vibe… it smells like Remy Pryce.”

Remy Pryce. The name was a curse word at Forrester Creations. He was the ambitious, ruthless rival designer who had tried to steal Forrester’s designs and intellectual property years prior, nearly bringing the company to its knees with his underhanded tactics and theatrical pronouncements. Remy’s signature was always high drama and low morality.

“Remy Pryce is in Europe, managing his own failing line,” Ridge growled, though doubt flickered in his eyes. “He’s irrelevant.”

“Is he?” Carter challenged. “If Electra is secretly communicating with him, she wouldn’t use his name. She’d use code, perhaps a name only they would know. Let’s look at the first few letters of the coded messages.”

They meticulously went through the texts:

Report on the fabric samples.

Estimate completion of Phase One.

Meeting scheduled near the usual cafe.

Yesterday’s security test was successful.

The acrostic was undeniable, crude, and devastating. R.E.M.Y.

“It’s him,” Steffy whispered, her eyes wide. “Electra isn’t writing a novel; she’s receiving instructions from Remy. He’s using her as his Trojan horse to destroy Forrester from the inside out.”

The team agreed on a strategy: they couldn’t confront Electra yet. They had to gather undeniable, legal proof. Ridge assigned R.J. the task of monitoring Electra’s movements discreetly, while Carter initiated a covert forensic investigation into her digital footprint.

Meanwhile, Electra remained oblivious, delivering her new line presentation with an unnerving brilliance. She was charming, talented, and utterly convincing in her innocence, making the whole affair that much more insidious.

The next day, R.J. followed Electra to a secluded, high-end café known for its anonymity. He watched from across the street as Electra sat down at a quiet corner table, nervously checking her phone.

R.J. pulled out his phone camera, zooming in carefully. A man slid into the booth across from Electra. He wore a wide-brimmed hat and dark glasses, but there was no mistaking the arrogant tilt of his chin and the expensive, tailored jacket.

It was Remy Pryce.

As R.J. covertly recorded their intense, whispered conversation, he noticed the subtle exchange of a flash drive. Electra was handing over sensitive company data. The coded texts were real, the betrayal was deep, and the sinister ambition of Remy Pryce was back to haunt Forrester Creations.

The image R.J. captured—Remy’s distinctive, sly smile as he took the drive—was all the proof they needed.

The drama was about to explode. Ridge and Steffy had to move fast. They had their proof, but the question now wasn’t whether Electra was a spy, but how much damage Remy had already inflicted and whether they could prevent “Phase Two”—Remy’s ultimate plan to steal the heart and soul of Forrester Creations—from being executed. The biggest challenge was confronting Electra without giving Remy time to erase their entire operation. The stakes had never been higher.