Chapter 4

Drisana

My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.

I cracked one eye open. My head was pounding from last night’s wine and I grabbed my phone off the nightstand. The screen lit up with notifications. Several photos and headlines with Sloane’s name on them.

I sat up fast.

There she was, lips locked with Chairman Hayes in the front seat of his car by the old bridge. The shots were taken from multiple angles. It was clear as day. You’d have to be blind to miss that it wasn’t her. Her hand was on his thigh. His fingers in her hair.

The first thing that stood out in the photos was the stupid red hair I’d talked her into getting months ago. I’d told her it would look good with her skin tone during the summer.

The timestamp was from two nights ago.

I stared at the images until my eyes burned.

Of course. I knew something was off between her and that chairman during the charity gala last month. The way they looked at each other. The way she disappeared for twenty minutes after his speech. I just hadn’t cared enough to dig.

Until now.

But who was behind this?

Sloane could be unbelievably dense, but even she wasn't careless enough to let someone take pictures of her without noticing.

No. Something about this felt off.

Maybe Mrs. Hayes was behind it. Or maybe Sloane had made an enemy I didn't know about.

Either way, someone wanted those photos to be seen.

Hold on. Why was I wasting my time thinking about that snitch?

She’d stabbed me in the back. She had made her choice the moment she climbed into Cater’s bed. Whatever mess she’d gotten herself into was no longer my problem.

I swung my legs off the bed and called my secretary.

“Charlotte, arrange an urgent board meeting this morning. Pull everyone in. I don’t care what they’re doing.”

"On it," she said, already moving. "You've… seen the news, right?"

"Yep." I rubbed my temple. "That was the first thing I woke up to after a brutal hangover."

I didn't wait for her response.

"Tell PR and Marketing to pull every campaign and event with her name on it. Remove her from the website. Every ad. Every mention. I want it gone with immediate effect."

I hung up, got dressed in ten minutes flat, and headed downstairs. The car from yesterday sat in the garage, seatbelt still cut from my meltdown. I cursed under my breath, slammed the door, and took one of the other cars instead. I’d have the recycling company pick up the damaged one later.

My phone lit up again on the drive. A call from Carter came in.

I ignored the call. Then the texts came through.

Carter: Are you behind the photos of Sloane?Carter: This is low, even for you. Carter: I already booked our favorite restaurant for dinner tonight. We need to talk.

I didn’t reply. I scoffed and tossed the phone on the passenger seat and kept driving.

At the office, I used the underground parking lot to avoid the reporters already camped outside the building's front.

The elevator doors slid open just as I reached them. A few employees were already inside. The moment they noticed me, their conversations died off.

"Ms. Varma."

"Good morning, Ms. Varma."

I acknowledged them with a brief nod and stepped inside.

The silence lasted just three seconds.

Then the whispers started again.

"...all over the news..."

"...I can't believe she'd do that..."

"...the photos looked pretty convincing…”

“…they are friends…”

My jaw tightened.

By the time the elevator reached my floor, my headache had doubled. Charlotte was waiting, tablet in hand, looking stressed.

“Stocks are down four percent already,” she said, falling into step beside me. “The board is waiting in the conference room. They’re not happy.”

“Let them be unhappy,” I muttered.

I walked into the conference room and took my seat at the head of the table. Eight board members stared back at me. I didn’t waste time.

“Sloane is out. Effective immediately. All campaigns, events, and partnerships involving her are terminated. We’re issuing a statement distancing the company from her personal actions.”

Mr. Hargrove, one of the older shareholders, leaned forward. “This scandal is costing us millions. How do you plan to fix it?”

“I already have PR drafting damage control. We’ll pivot the next campaign to focus on empowerment and fresh starts. No more Sloane.”

A woman named Mrs. Patel crossed her arms. “And what about the rumors that this is connected to your personal life? Your fiancé—”

“Not relevant,” I cut in sharply. “Focus on the business. That’s what I pay you for.”

The meeting dragged on for another twenty minutes of questions and complaints. I answered everyone with cold, precise answers until they finally ran out of steam.

When the last person left, I stayed in the conference room, rubbing my temple and staring at the city skyline through the glass wall. My phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: Are you convinced now that I’m on your side?

I stared at the message.

It was him.

He was the one behind the photos.

So this was his way of proving he was my ally? What exactly did he want? Because I wasn't buying the whole ally and number one fan nonsense.

I quickly typed out a message.

“What do you want?”

My thumb hovered over the send button. Before I could hit send, the door burst open.