The CEO Babied the Wrong Woman

On the day of our engagement, my boyfriend, Henley Chatham, handed his assistant, Kiara Dalby, an unlimited black card—then set me up with a shared wallet. Daily limit: twenty bucks.

I laughed. Cold. Said no.

He called me materialistic—then spun around and made some grand confession to Kiara.

So I ended it. Right there.

Then I signed with a classified agency.

Five years later, Kiara and I crossed paths at a car wash.

I was in line when she whipped her car in and cut me off.

I couldn't dodge. Metal slammed—my whole front end wrecked.

She rolled her window down. "Hey, you in the back—blind or what? Can't you see my car?"

I let out a short laugh. "You cut me off. Then you crash into me. And somehow that's my fault?"

Kiara sneered, same attitude, just louder. "I cut in line? Please. Every inch of Hawthorne Bay belongs to the Chatham family. Ever heard of Chatham Corp? My boss could shake this whole town with one move."

I actually laughed this time.

Pulled out my phone. Dialed.

"Ex-boyfriend, I hear Hawthorne Bay answers to you now?"

I came to Hawthorne Bay on a top-secret mission. No time to mess around.

If Henley could act like a decent human—for old times—I might've helped him out.

The car I was driving? Not normal. One scratch, one dent—big problem.

The phone rang twice before he picked up. "You're the eighteenth woman today claiming to be my ex."

I barely got a word out before he hung up.

I just stood there.

'...What? Are all CEOs this full of themselves?'

Kiara saw the call drop and lost it—laughing so hard she was shaking.

"Oh please. I thought you were actually our CEO's ex. You even had my boss's number. Turns out you're fake." She smirked. "You're young, so here's some advice—pay up and move on. You don't want to mess with the Chatham family in Hawthorne Bay."

I just stared at her. "You cut in first. However you spin it, this is on you."

Her eyes slid over my car—a Crownell. She sneered.

"Nice try. You're just looking to scam my boss." She scoffed. "Not happening. Someone like you, driving a local brand? You probably can't even scrape together a few bucks. I'm being nice talking to you, and you're still running your mouth?"

The crowd jumped in, loud and eager.

"Yeah, miss—that's Henley Chatham's assistant. Nobody crosses her!"

"Someone really tried to embarrass Henley Chatham? She's asking to get wrecked!"

And of course—someone went live.

"Everyone, look! This woman hit Henley Chatham's car and won't pay. Now she's trying to extort them!"

My expression shifted.

My identity was classified. Cameras were a hard no.

I reached for the phone—Kiara got there first.

"Girls these days look all sweet, but they're just chasing a payout." She angled the camera at me. "C'mon, get a good look. Don't get played by someone like her."

My face filled the screen.

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