Chapter 4

ARIANA

Four years later…

The buzz of the city filtered through the glass walls of my office. On the table was a plaque on which my name was boldly inscribed.

Unapologetically mine.

My empire, fashion-forward and bold. It had risen like a phoenix, taking the other fashion houses in the city by surprise. Every event I attended, there were whispers of my name and achievements under a short time.

Those whispers fueled me, plus the words from Gerry, a chef in my ex-husband’s home. “Your accident was more than meets the eye, ma'am. Isabella had it planned.”

That devil. Plotted my accident and when she thought I was dead, got herself pregnant for Zayde and married him. By the time I'd be done with them, they'd be a sorry sight.

“Ms. Ariana,” my secretary's voice cut through my thoughts. She peeked her head in, her hands gripped a sleek tablet. “It's almost time for the stakeholders’ meeting. Oh, and there's a man in the conference room. Says he's a representative from an old friend.”

I nodded, already knowing who it was. “Got it. Let's not keep them waiting.”

Her heels clicked behind me as we headed down the hall. As we passed by a mirror, I took a brief look at it to see confidence radiate off me like heatwaves.

Of course, I turned heads as I passed. They always did. Why wouldn't they? The surgery was a huge success and although healing put me in so much pain, it was worth it in the end.

The man was already seated when I walked in. We exchanged quick pleasantries—handshakes and tight smiles. By the time the other investors arrived, the air in the room hummed with anticipation.

The meeting moved fast. All business talk about alliances and market domination. I kept my poker face on, speaking when needed and steering when necessary.

These men thought they ran the world. They didn't realize I'd been remaking it, one thread at a time. Minutes later, it was over. After a full minute of handshakes, nods and agreements, it was another win for Ariana Campbell.

The moment I stepped into the wide lounge, I was hit with a stench. Cheap perfume masking something foul.

Isabella.

She's perched on one of the chairs like a crow, dressed in an outfit so garish it screamed money can't buy taste. There's a gasp from her and a brief look of shock, then she tried to recover.

Too late. I'd noticed it already.

“You're surprised to see me,” I approached her, folding my arms as I stood in front of her.

She rose to her feet as well and her lips curl into a sneer. “Not surprised. Just amused.” She scanned me like a predator sizing up prey. “You’ve brush up well for someone who fell so far.”

I arhed a brow, refusing to rise to her bait.

“You know,” she continued in that venomous tone, “it's impressive, really. Most ex-wives of billionaires manage a quiet retirement, maybe a modest push to keep them relevant. But you…” she looked me over and released a cackle. “You're here, working nine-to-five in someone else's company in another state. How quaint.”

A smirk tugged at my lips. “It's cute that you think this isn't mine.”

Her face hardened. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Figure it out,” I smirked and prepared to leave for the elevator.

Her nostrils glared but before she can retort, she tuned to my secretary. “I'm here for the stakeholders’ meeting.”

The words froze me in my steps. I glanced at my secretary, who fumbled over her response.

“The meeting?” I interjected, enjoying the way panic flashes across Isabella's face. “Oh, that ended. Punctuality isn't your strong suit.”

She stiffened, recovering with a derisive laugh. “And what kind of company finishes a meeting knowing I'm attending? Such arrogance for something so new. I should have a word with your CEO to teach her a thing or two about proper work ethics.”

My secretary's eyes darted to mine. I held her gaze and gave a subtle nod.

Clearing her throat, she said, “The CEO is…in another meeting. She'll attend to you shortly.”

Isabella huffed, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “Fine. But let her know I don't wait long.” She strutted to a seat and plopped down like she owned the place.

I turned to my secretary. “Elevator. Now.”

We stepped inside and as the doors closed, I spoke low. “Don't let her near my office. After two hours, tell her the meeting's cancelled.”

“Yes, Ms. Campbell.”

The elevator dinged open and I strode back to my sanctuary. Isabella's audacity burned fresh in my mind.

‘Your feathers might be bright now, Isabella,’ I thought to myself as we rode up, “but I'll pluck them one by one until you're nothing but bare bones.’