LOGINDante grabbed Ashley’s wrist just as she tried to hail a cab outside the company.
“You’re not going alone,” he said firmly, his grip unyielding. “I can handle this, Dante. Let go,” Ashley snapped, her voice trembling with panic. “You’re in no state to drive or think straight,” he countered, pulling her toward his car. “Get in. I’ll take you.” She opened her mouth to argue, but one look at the intensity in his eyes silenced her. Her chest heaved with conflicted breaths before she finally yanked her wrist free, muttering, “Fine.” She climbed into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut. Dante didn’t waste another second. He slid behind the wheel, slammed his foot on the accelerator, and the car sped into the night. He glanced at Ashley sitting beside him in the passenger seat. Her eyes were tightly shut, her hands trembling with fear. Heart pounding, he pressed harder on the accelerator, silently praying that nothing would happen to Ashley’s brother. Suddenly, the car screeched to a halt. Ashley jolted forward, then quickly leapt out, rushing into the hospital in search of her brother. “Tristan! Tristan! Where is my brother?” she cried out, tears streaming down her face. The nurse at the reception desk blinked in confusion. “Who?” she asked, puzzled. Dante sighed and gently placed a hand on Ashley’s shoulder, trying to calm her. “The young man who was brought in tonight,” he explained softly. The nurse nodded. “He was taken to the emergency room.” “Thank you,” Dante said quietly, nodding in appreciation. Ashley’s eyes filled with desperation as she looked toward the emergency corridor. “I need to see him,” she whispered, her voice trembling with fear and grief. For a moment, Dante’s arms twitched at his sides. He wanted to pull her close, to offer her the comfort she so clearly craved. But halfway into the motion, he stopped himself, curling his hands into fists instead. His jaw tightened, and all he could do was watch her crumble. “Nothing must happen to my little brother. If anything happens to him… I don’t know what I’ll do,” she muttered through her tears, collapsing to the ground in despair. Moments later, the doctor emerged from the operating room, his face serious as he approached them. “When the patient was brought in, he had already lost a significant amount of blood. We managed to take out the bullet and stop the bleeding after administering a transfusion,” he explained calmly, then turned and left. Ashley clung to Dante, her body trembling as she tried to suppress her panic. All she could do now was wait and pray for her brother’s recovery. Dante eventually left after Ashley persuaded him. Her brother had been moved to a regular ward, although he remained unconscious. She was busy wiping him with a towel when a nurse approached her. “The doctor said to ask when you’ll be settling the bills. We aren’t supposed to administer any treatment without payment, but the young man’s condition forced us to act,” the nurse explained. Ashley forced out a smile as she glanced over at her pale-looking brother sleeping peacefully on the bed. “I’ll make the payment first thing tomorrow,” she said softly. The nurse nodded and walked away, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She quickly checked her balance and realized she was low on cash. She had exhausted her money paying her father’s debts and saving up for her upcoming wedding. Tomorrow was the deadline to pay her brother’s hospital bills. Ashley was left in a tight position, knowing she had already maxed out her company’s loan limit, which meant she had to pay off all her debts before she could be eligible for a new one. This left her torn between two decisions. She had no other choice but to pay Jude a visit and borrow some of the money they had been saving up for a house. She couldn’t help but wonder what she was going to do if something happened to Tristan. Frustration bubbled up inside her, and she broke down into another round of tears. She picked up her bag and left the hospital. Her phone began to vibrate. She pulled it out—it was her best friend, Simon. “Where are you, Ash? Did you go back to Jude’s place?” Ashley sniffled. “Tristan got shot, Simon. I’m just leaving the hospital to go look for help.” Simon sounded like he’d been struck by lightning. “Tristan was shot? What?! Where? How?” “I’ll talk to you as soon as I can, okay?” “Take care of yourself, Ash. Call me the moment you need me,” Simon said before the call ended. As the car drove away, leaving her in front of the building Jude was renting, Ashley walked inside and climbed the stairs with measured steps. At his door, she noticed it was slightly ajar. “You like it like this,” a husky voice said from inside, followed by loud slapping sounds and moans echoing through the hallway. Her expression hardened. She had come to Jude, her fiancé, to collect the money they had been saving for a house after their upcoming wedding. Instead, she had walked straight into the truth. With one push, the door slammed open. “F*ck!” Jude exclaimed, scrambling off the bed, guilt flooding his face. Meanwhile, the blonde woman in his bed, whom Ashley instantly recognized as her friend and colleague Penelope, looked completely unfazed. In fact, she glared at Ashley, annoyed that her fun had been interrupted. Jude stepped forward. “I… I can explain, baby.” “Don’t come closer.” Ashley’s voice was low, cold. Her gaze burned through him until he stopped mid-step. Without another glance at either of them, she walked straight to the drawer, pulled out his ATM card, and slipped it into her bag. “Don’t waste my time with lies,” she said evenly. “I’m not here for excuses. I came for what’s mine.” She turned slightly toward them, her eyes like sharpened glass. “You two deserve each other and the mess you’ll choke on.” Penelope scoffed and held up her phone, displaying a lingerie photo of Ashley. “Why pretend to be a saint, Ash?” A faint smirk tugged at Ashley’s lips. “If you think that’s your trump card, you’re more pathetic than I thought.” She stepped forward and delivered a sharp slap across Penelope’s face, not in rage, but deliberate and controlled. “You’re a disgrace, not because of me, but because you sold yourself for scraps.” Jude let out a mocking scoff. “Penelope told me everything. You’re a pretender, too pure for me, yet a cheap harlot on the side.” He laughed coldly. “That card’s empty. Let’s see you try.” Ashley met his gaze without flinching. “Then I’ll make it work. That’s what people like you never understand. I don’t need you to survive.” And with that, she walked out, her steps slow and steady. She didn’t look back. Not once. In the elevator, she stood tall, her breathing even. Outside, the cool evening breeze brushed against her skin. Only then did she let her eyes narrow, the sharp ache in her chest swallowed down. Tristan was in the hospital. Jude was history. She had no intention of falling apart, not where anyone could see. Suddenly, she pulled out her phone with the intention of giving Dante a call.Dante walked toward his car, the chauffeur opening the door with a respectful nod before sliding into the driver’s seat. Dante removed his shades as the car eased into motion toward the company.The moment the car screeched to a halt and he stepped out, he instantly sensed something off.Employees were staring far more than usual. Whispers moved across the lobby like a quiet storm. Their eyes followed him, not with admiration, and not with fear, but with unsettling curiosity.He ignored it, forcing his mind back to work as he headed into his office. He sat, opened his laptop, and remembered his phone had died earlier. Plugging it in, he pushed it aside. He needed to prepare something, anything, to say to the shareholders in the upcoming meeting.But the moment the screen lit up, notifications exploded across it.Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.More than fifty messages and missed calls.With a deep frown, he picked up the phone.What he saw froze him.Headline: “Montclair Heir, Dante Montclair
Reese hung up only to turn around and see Danae standing in front of her, her arms folded across her chest, eyes glaring daggers.Danae suddenly smirked as she began to clap. “Just wow, Reese, who would have thought you were such a conniving bitch who hides under the pretense of being innocent?”The shocked expression still lingered on Reese’s face as she stared at Danae with mixed emotions, unaware of what to say, knowing fully well Danae heard her entire conversation.Reese couldn’t help but think Danae would inform everyone, and then the Montclairs would turn their backs on her, and she could kiss Dante goodbye. The thought sent shivers down her spine.“What do I do now? Think!” Reese said to herself inwardly.“Danae, I’m so sorry!” Reese broke into tears as she fell to the ground dramatically. “What was I supposed to do? I am helplessly in love with your brother and I couldn’t sit back and watch him slip from my hand!”Danae balled her fist, her chest rising and falling with rapid
By the next morning, the cruel headlines had begun to fade away. Within just a few hours, the public’s opinion had shifted completely. The same people who once dragged Ashley through the mud were now singing her praises, calling her strong, graceful, and misunderstood.As the chaos died down, Ashley couldn’t have felt more grateful to have Dante in her life. She smiled softly as she walked into the living room holding a tray.“Here’s your breakfast,” she said, handing him a plate of toast.Dante took it with a faint smirk. “You made this yourself?”Ashley nodded and sat beside him on the couch, watching him take a bite. “Thank you for everything, Mr. Montclair,” she said warmly.He glanced at her, his expression softening. “I told you, I’d take care of it,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair away from her face before stroking her hair gently.Ashley’s eyes lingered on him for a moment before her tone dropped. “But… who could have done this to us?” she murmured, more to herself than
The morning broke with chaos.Brighton’s usual buzz had turned into a full-blown media circus. Every news outlet, blog, and gossip site was flooded with clips of Jude Alcott’s parents , their voices trembling with emotion, their carefully crafted outrage echoing across screens.“Ashley Kingsley ruined our son’s life,” Mrs. Alcott said, dabbing her eyes dramatically with a tissue as the cameras zoomed in. “He loved her. He gave her everything. And she threw him away for money.”Her husband leaned forward, his tone sharp. “She left Jude right before their engagement party, disappeared overnight, chasing a richer man. It broke him. He quit medicine because of her.”Reporters leaned in closer, hungry for more.“Are you referring to President Dante Montclair?” one of them asked.Mr. Alcott didn’t hesitate. “Everyone knows what happened. She moved from one man’s arm to another’s. Tell me, what kind of woman does that?”The room went quiet, just for a second — the silence before the explosio
The day after the scandal broke, both companies bled in silence.At Brighton Group, the atmosphere was tense enough to cut through. Every conversation was a whisper, every stare a blade. Ashley walked through the hallways she once commanded with confidence, now feeling like an intruder in her own office.The HR director wouldn’t meet her eyes. The interns went quiet the second she entered the elevator. Even the receptionist, who used to smile every morning, pretended to type.A meeting was held called. “Crisis Communication.”Ashley sat across from her boss and Simon, her boss, who looked ten years older overnight. His tie was loosened, his expression grim.“Ms. Kingsley,” he started, voice heavy, “the board is panicking.”“I know,” she said quietly. “I’ve seen the numbers.”Brighton’s stock had dipped three percent since morning. Sponsors had paused collaborations. Every hour, another article questioned the company’s “ethics.”Her boss exhaled. “They’re calling for a temporary suspen
The morning light crept through the curtains, spilling across the bed where Ashley still slept. For once, her mind was still. No deadlines. No whispers. Just the steady rhythm of Dante’s breathing beside her.It felt like peace, the kind she hadn’t tasted in years.Her phone buzzed on the nightstand once. Then again. Then again.She stirred, frowning, half-asleep. The vibration didn’t stop. It grew louder, constant, as if the entire world was trying to reach her at once.With a groggy sigh, she reached for it, squinting at the bright screen.134 missed calls. 89 unread messages. 200+ mentions.Her heart skipped.She sat up slowly, scrolling through the notifications — news alerts, gossip updates, social media tags. The words Ashley Kingsley flashed again and again.#AshleyKingsleyExposed#MontclairAffair#GoldDiggerHer throat went dry.“What the…” she whispered, unlocking her phone.The first thing she saw was a headline, bold and cruel, glowing against the white screen:“CEO’s Mistr







