Chapter5
944 Words
Chapter 5: The Ledger
Ariana’s POV
I told myself I was done.
When Roy stormed out of that cafe, jaw tight and eyes full of something between hate and desperation, I’d convinced myself that was it — the last time his shadow would stretch across my life.
I was wrong.
Three days later, the phone rang.
“Ms. Ariana Williams ?” The voice was male, clipped, and professional. “I’m with The Ledger. We’ve obtained internal documents from Smart Edge Enterprises. Your name is mentioned repeatedly. We’d like a statement before we run the story.”
My throat went dry. “What kind of documents?”
“A variety. Emails. Financial notes. One particularly… personal exchange between you and Mr. Adams Smart .”
My grip on the phone tightened. “Where did you get them?”
The pause told me enough. “Off the record, Ms. Ariana Williams, you might want to ask your ex-husband about that.”
Click.
The room felt smaller, the air heavier.
He’d done it.
Even after our fight, even after he threw the flash drive at my feet like it meant nothing, Roy had kept copies.
And now he’d found the perfect way to detonate them.
I barely heard Adams enter the room until his phone buzzed. He read something, his expression flattening into the same stone mask he wore in every boardroom photo.
“They’ve sent it to me too,” he said. “An email. With samples.”
Samples. It was like a tasting menu of destruction.
I swallowed hard. “What now?”
He looked at me for a long moment. “Damage control.”
“That’s it?” I snapped. “You’re not even going to—”
“Ariana, listen to me.” His voice was calm, too calm, the way people speak right before they make a decision you’ll hate. “This is about the company now. They’ll use your name to drag me under. I need to stay ahead of it.”
I stepped toward him. “You mean you need to stay ahead of me.”
His jaw clenched. “That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you meant,” I shot back. “If this gets out, I’m the problem. Not your father’s shady board deals. Not the mess you inherited. Me.”
His silence said I’d hit the mark.
“Tell me something, Adams,” I pressed. “When you first approached me, was it about me… or was it about Roy?”
He moved fast — not toward me, but away, pacing the length of the living room. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Answer me!”
He stopped, turned. His eyes were sharp. “If I’d wanted Roy, I’d have crushed him years ago. What I wanted—what I still want—is the one thing he never deserved. You.”
The heat in his voice made my chest tighten, but I didn’t let him see it.
“Then why does it feel like you’re preparing to cut me loose?” I whispered.
He raked a hand through his hair. “Because I’m trying to protect you, Ariana. And sometimes that means putting distance between us—”
“No.” I shook my head. “That means protecting yourself.”
The moment stretched, the only sound the low hum of the fridge and my pulse in my ears.
Finally, Adams spoke again, voice low. “The Ledger’s not our biggest problem.”
I blinked. “What could be worse?”
He hesitated. “Roy’s not the only one talking.”
Cold swept through me. “Who else?”
“Someone inside Smart Edge,” he said. “A board member, maybe two. And whoever it is… they’ve been feeding information to someone in Dubai.”
Dubai. The word hung in the air like a warning I didn’t yet understand.
“What does Dubai have to do with this?”
Adams’ mouth tightened. “Nothing good.”
I took a step toward him. “Then tell me. Stop keeping me in the dark—”
“I will,” he said. “When I can prove it.”
I laughed — sharp, humorless. “You keep saying that, Adams, but by the time you ‘prove’ anything, I’ll already be buried under whatever this is.”
His phone buzzed again. He glanced at it, then at me. “I have to take this.”
I didn’t move. “Go ahead. Take your call. Just know that if you keep shutting me out, I won’t be here when you hang up.”
He stared at me for a beat, then turned away, answering with a clipped, “Smart Edge .”
I left the room before I could hear another word.
In the kitchen, I gripped the counter, forcing myself to breathe. I should walk away now. Call The Ledger. Give my statement. Tell my own story before Roy or Adams or anyone else twisted it into something unrecognizable.
But my phone buzzed again — a message from an unknown number.
You don’t know the whole story. Ask him about Dubai. Ask him about March 18th.
My stomach dropped. March 18th. My wedding anniversary with Roy.
Before I could react, Adams appeared in the doorway, phone still in hand.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“Funny,” I replied, slipping my phone into my pocket. “So do we.”
His eyes narrowed. “About what?”
I smiled — small, sharp. “Dubai.”
The way his expression changed told me everything I needed to know.
- Writer
