On the eve of our wedding, my fiancé, Carter Hayes, the newly minted CEO of his family’s empire, threw himself one last bachelor party. He came home staggering, soaked in the kind of expensive whiskey that clings to a man’s suit like a cheap promise. I was the one who peeled him out of the car, and his arms wrapped around me in the marble foyer, pulling me into a desperate, searing kiss. His breath was hot, thick with a boozy desire as he murmured into my hair, “Ava… God, I love you, Ava.” Then he collapsed into a dead sleep. The next morning, Ava Reed, his executive assistant, posted a cryptic message on her Instagram story: The deepest loves are the ones we must keep silent. I’m so happy you’ve found your person. Wishing you a lifetime of happiness. The comments under the blog posts announcing our wedding turned into a cesspool overnight. I was a homewrecker, a shrew who’d stolen a good man from his true love. The vitriol was biblical. My best friend, Chloe, who also happens to head my company’s PR department, was practically vibrating with anxiety. “Catherine, if this narrative takes hold, our stock is going to tank before the opening bell.” I took a slow sip of my coffee, the porcelain warm against my lips. “What’s the panic?” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Release the security footage from the garage entrance.” I set the cup down. “And make sure you get a clean shot of his face. But blur hers. And zoom in on the logo of his suit jacket. He’s the only man in this city still wearing that season’s Tom Ford.” 1 Ten minutes after the clip went live, the internet broke. X, Instagram, Bloomberg, every screen in the financial district lit up with the same story. #HayesCheats: New Video Shows CEO Carter Hayes in Passionate Embrace with Assistant on Wedding Eve The Price of Love: Did Catherine Price’s Golden Boy Have a Last-Minute Change of Heart? Who is Ava Reed? The Secretary at the Center of the Hayes Corporation Scandal The three headlines went viral, painting the digital landscape a violent shade of red. The phones in my office suite began to shriek. Investors, board members, reporters—a chorus of hyenas demanding blood. My own assistant, Jenna, clutched her headset, her face pale. “Catherine,” she stammered, “Hayes Corp’s PR team, Carter’s grandmother… the entire board. They’re… they’re losing their minds.” I gave her a look that silenced her. She swallowed. “They want you to release a statement immediately. They’ve drafted it. They want you to say the photo is misleading, that his assistant felt faint from low blood sugar and Mr. Hayes was just helping her.” A humorless laugh escaped my lips. “A statement? Why in God’s name would I clean up their mess?” My voice dropped, turning to steel. “I am Carter Hayes’s wife. The one he left standing alone at our rehearsal dinner. And now I’m supposed to provide cover for him and his little C-suite Lolita?” “Jenna,” I asked, my eyes locking on hers. “Do I look like the kind of fool who would do that?” She shook her head, mute. The office door slammed open with a sound like a gunshot. Carter stood there, a mess of a man. His hair was disheveled, his suit from the night before was wrinkled, and his eyes were shot with blood. He threw his phone onto my desk. It skidded across the mahogany, the screen showing a nine-panel grid of crystal-clear screenshots from the video. The dim light of the parking garage. Carter’s suit jacket draped over Ava Reed’s shoulders. Her dress, artfully slipping down. His mouth, crushed against hers. “Catherine! Have you lost your mind?” he roared. “Ava was heartbroken over a recent breakup! I was driving her home, she started crying, and I was comforting her. Nothing happened!” I raised my eyes from the phone, my gaze so cold it could have frozen fire. “Nothing happened? Then why did you come home looking like you’d been wrestling in an alley?” I stood up, my voice dangerously low. “Nothing happened? Then why did you hold me, kiss me like your life depended on it, and whisper her name?” He choked on his words, his face flushing a deep, ugly red. “I was drunk!” he bellowed, falling back on the oldest excuse in the book. “What man doesn’t appreciate a beautiful young woman? It was instinct, for Christ’s sake! You’re going to blow everything up over a moment of instinct? Wreck the company’s stock, destroy Ava’s reputation?” He took a step closer, his voice dripping with contempt. “You’re pathetic, Catherine. And you’re vicious.” I rose from my chair, the shattered screen of his phone cracking under my knuckles as I leaned on the desk. I walked around it, closing the distance between us until I could smell the stale liquor on his breath. “Vicious? Pathetic?” I laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. “Don’t be so quick to hand out labels, Carter. My little stunt is just God’s janitor taking out the trash. Compared to the toxic waste you and your little friend are spewing, I’m practically a recycling program.” I leaned in, my voice a whisper. “This isn't an attack. This is self-defense.” “And let’s be clear about one more thing,” I said, my finger tapping his chest. “Don’t you dare hide behind ‘all men.’ The only man who wears his pathetic indiscretions like a badge of honor… is you.” His face contorted with rage, blood rushing to his head. He swung his hand back, ready to slap me across the face. I didn’t flinch. I leaned into it, a razor-thin smile on my lips. “Go ahead. Do it. Tomorrow’s headline will be even better: ‘Billionaire CEO Assaults Ailing Wife.’ Your little PR crisis will go nuclear. There won’t even be ashes left to bury.” His arm froze mid-air, then fell limply to his side, all the fight draining out of him. An hour later, his father arrived. William Hayes Sr., the founder of the empire, a man who had never bent to anyone, strode into my office flanked by two security guards. He stopped in the middle of the room, the click of his Italian leather shoes echoing off the floor-to-ceiling windows. “I’m here, so let’s not waste time with pleasantries,” he announced, his voice booming for everyone to hear. “Delete the posts. Call a press conference. Tell them the video was doctored, that it was all a misunderstanding. The Hayes family’s stock price will not be ruined by a marital spat.” I picked up my coffee cup, blowing gently on the surface. “Mr. Hayes, the only person ruining your company… is your son.” “He was the one who went sniffing around a bar on the eve of his wedding. The fact that I haven’t already filed for divorce is the only courtesy the Hayes family is getting from me.” He was silent for a beat, his eyes narrowing. “What do you want? Assets? Money? A five percent stake in the company? Name your price, Catherine.” I laughed softly and set my cup down. “I don’t want a thing.” “I want justice.” William Hayes scoffed. “Justice? In this city, Catherine, the Hayes family is justice. Don’t forget, your family’s company isn’t what it used to be. Without our backing, the wolves would have torn you apart by now.” He checked his Patek Philippe. “You have thirty minutes. If I don’t see a public apology in thirty minutes, I will pull every dime of Hayes support from every single one of your projects.” I stared out at the glittering Manhattan skyline, my finger tapping a light rhythm on the rim of my cup. “You know, your biggest mistake was thinking I was some delicate flower you could crush under your thumb.” My eyes met his. “I’m not a flower. I’m a knife.” After they left, Jenna returned, her arms full of printed-out emails, her hands shaking so badly the papers rattled. “Catherine, he meant it. The bankers for the Kensington merger just pulled out.” I put a steadying hand on her shoulder, my voice low and firm. “Don’t worry. The sky is getting darker, but it’s not falling. Not on us.” Thirty minutes passed. I posted nothing. But someone else did. Ava Reed started an Instagram Live. The title was four simple words. I can’t do this anymore. The video was shaky. She was standing on the very edge of the Hayes Tower rooftop, seventy-nine stories above the pavement. One foot was already over the side, the wind whipping her silk blouse around her like a shroud. Her eyes were red, her voice torn to shreds by the wind. “Carter… I’m so sorry… I can’t take it anymore…” The comment section exploded. OMG! SOMEONE CALL 911! SHE'S GOING TO JUMP! LOCATION IS HAYES TOWER! GET HELP! The next second, Ava let go of the railing. Her body tilted backward, falling into the abyss. The screen went black. The comments were just a blur of panic. DID SHE JUMP?! CATHERINE PRICE DROVE HER TO SUICIDE! Ten seconds later, the feed switched to a camera positioned outside the seventy-ninth-floor glass. It showed Ava landing safely in a discreetly placed stunt net. But the live feed had only captured the horrifying silhouette of her fall. The internet passed its final judgment. The hashtags trended worldwide. #BloodOnHerHandsCatherinePrice #JusticeForAva #MonsterCEO The narrative was set in stone: Catherine Price, the vindictive corporate monster, bullied a 26-year-old woman to her death. My phone rang. It was Carter, his voice trembling with a rage that was almost unhinged. “Catherine, you pushed her! She jumped because of you!” he screamed into the phone. “If one hair on her head is harmed, I will make you regret the day you were born! You enjoy this, don’t you? Hurting her? You’re a demon!” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “My God, Carter, do the two of you think the universe revolves around you? That the sun is your personal spotlight and the world turns according to your pathetic little script?” “She faints, and it’s my fault. She stages a fake suicide, and I’m the one who pushed her. So what does that make me? The villain you can pin everything on? I’m supposed to wear this crown of thorns you’ve welded to my head and thank you for the privilege?” “Go,” I said, my voice dripping with ice. “Go comfort her. I’m sure her fragile, delicate soul needs it.” I hung up. Moments later, the official press release from Hayes Corp hit the wires. [Effective immediately, Hayes Corporation has suspended all partnerships and joint ventures with Price Industries, citing a lack of confidence in the personal and ethical conduct of its CEO, Catherine Price.] It was a declaration of war. Within the hour, three of my largest institutional investors issued notices of asset freezes. Jenna stood in my doorway, holding a stack of white papers, her voice a hollow whisper. “It’s over. They’re launching a full-scale assault. They’re going to destroy us.” Overnight, I went from the city’s most celebrated new executive to a pariah. A final text from Carter came through. [I’m evicting you from the building. The locks will be changed in the morning. The divorce papers have been sent to your lawyer. Don’t make me call the police.] I looked at the message and actually laughed out loud. Evict me? This building, the crown jewel of the Hayes real estate portfolio, had been a wedding gift to me from my parents. The deed was ironclad. I texted back one word: [Try.] He must have lost his mind, because an hour later he was at my front door, two of his sycophantic VPs in tow, kicking the door like a common thug. “Catherine, get out! This is a Hayes property, and you are no longer welcome here! Get the hell out!” he bellowed, pointing a finger at my face. I was lounging on the sofa, swirling a glass of cabernet, and didn’t even bother to uncross my legs. “Carter, darling,” I said, my voice languid. “Has playing CEO addled your brain? Did you forget how basic property law works? Maybe you should take a closer look at the deed. The name on it is Catherine Price.” I took a sip of wine. “Rented? Sweetheart, this is my property. It has nothing to do with your family.” Carter froze, his face a kaleidoscope of confusion and fury. Clearly, Daddy had never filled him in on that little detail. Behind him, his precious little victim, the newly minted mistress, started her performance. Her eyes filled with tears, her voice a pathetic whisper. “Carter… don’t… don’t cause trouble for my sake. Ms. Price has never liked me. It’s all my fault. I’ll go.” Ugh. She was really committed to the damsel-in-distress act. Carter’s heart practically broke on cue. He turned back to me, his eyes blazing. “You wait, Catherine. You just wait. I will make you pay for this, tenfold. I will make sure you can’t even buy a cup of coffee in this city again!” I stood up, placing my glass on the table with a sharp click. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll be waiting.” “And a word of advice. Next time you plan a home invasion, do your homework. You wouldn’t want to look this foolish again.”
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "394191", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel