Games on Dear Husband

Chapter6

“I hope it's not who I'm thinking of,” Kate said, her eyes widening with sudden realization.

“He's the only person powerful enough to protect us right now,” Arden said, her voice steady despite the weight pressing down on her.

“Would he even agree to see you after everything that happened between you two?” Kate asked, her brows furrowing.

Taking a steadying breath, Arden replied, “We can't afford to guess. We can only try.”

"What's your plan?" Kate pressed.

"I'll figure out the details once I'm standing in front of him," Arden answered.

"But—" Kate started, only to be cut off.

“There are no buts, Kate. Time is slipping away, and it's already almost noon,” Arden said, her gaze drifting anxiously to the wall clock.

Just then, the shrill ring of Arden's cell phone shattered the tension in the room.

“It's Luke,” Arden whispered, raising a finger to gesture for absolute silence. Kate nodded frantically while rubbing her palms nervously over her jeans.

“Hey, honey,” Arden answered, forcing an upbeat, sweet tone into her voice.

"Are you finished with the checkup yet?" Luke’s smooth voice came through the speaker.

“Umm, yes... what about you?” Arden replied, forcing herself to sound casual.

"We're almost finished here. The designer made a slight mistake with the alterations, but you know how Stephanie gets," Luke chuckled softly.

"Don't mind him, Arden! This mistake is completely unforgivable," Stephanie yelled loudly in the background.

"I trust your judgment, Steph," Arden replied smoothly.

"What did you expect? She'll always take her precious sister's side over mine," Luke teased.

"Of course she does. Stephanie is the best thing that has ever happened to me," Arden replied.

Beside her, Kate let out a loud, involuntary cough that earned her a lethal glare from Arden.

"You never told me why you actually called," Arden quickly pivoted, changing the subject.

"I missed you, that's why. Am I no longer allowed to call my own fiancée during the day?" Luke teased.

"That's not what I meant, I just—" Arden tried to smooth it over, but Luke cut her off.

“I know what you meant, relax,” Luke chuckled. “I also wanted to ask if you need me to pick you up from the clinic once we're done here?”

“No, actually, I'm heading over to Kate's place right now. I'll be back home before dinner, so you don't need to worry about a thing,” Arden replied.

“Alright then, send my regards to Kate. I love you,” Luke said.

“I love you too, babe,” Arden replied, immediately ending the call before he could say another word.

“You are seriously a terrifyingly good actress,” Kate whispered, letting out a breath of relief the moment the call dropped. “If you hadn't inherited your parents' company, I would've told you to pack your bags and move to Hollywood.”

“Oh, please. Give Stephanie any more ammunition, and she'll have my head on a spike,” Arden replied with a dry, humorless smile.

“She can try,” Kate scoffed.

"Enough joking around. We need to move," Arden said, standing up.

"Just give me sixty seconds to change my shoes," Kate said, hurrying toward the stairs.

"Better hurry," Arden muttered, shaking her head.

Within a half-hour, they pulled up to the imposing, glass-and-steel architecture of the Whitmore Corporation headquarters.

“Are you completely sure you don't want me to come up with you?” Kate asked, putting the car in park.

Arden shook her head firmly. “No. I need to face him alone.”

“Okay... I trust you, Arden. I'll wait right here in the car,” Kate said, offering her hand a gentle squeeze.

Arden pulled down the passenger-side visor mirror to check her reflection and quickly reapplied her lip tint.

“You seriously have time for makeup right now?” Kate asked incredulously.

“If I want to stand even a remote chance against Ethan Whitmore, I have to look completely fearless,” Arden replied calmly, smoothing down her blazer.

She stepped out of the car without looking back. Kate watched from the driver's seat as Arden's silhouette disappeared through the grand revolving doors of the building.

Arden stepped into a private elevator, pressing the button for the top floor. Within seconds, the elevator chimed, and the doors slid open to reveal a quiet, ultra-luxurious executive floor. The only sound was the sharp, rhythmic click of her heels against the polished marble floor as she approached the reception desk.

“Good day, Miss Johnson,” the receptionist greeted her with a polished, professional smile.

“I'm here to see Mr. Whitmore,” Arden stated, returning a polite, composed smile.

“Do you happen to have a scheduled appointment?” the receptionist asked, her fingers hovering over her tablet.

“No. Just tell him it's an urgent matter.”

“I'm terribly sorry, Ma'am, but Mr. Whitmore strictly specifies—” the receptionist started to explain, but Arden cut her off.

“Tell him it's urgent.”

Hesitating under Arden's unyielding gaze, the receptionist gave a stiff nod. She picked up her desk phone, punched in a quick extension, and spoke into the receiver.

“Miss Johnson is here to see you, sir. She insists it's urgent—”

A cold, clipped voice echoed faintly from the earpiece before the line went dead.

“Submit your resignation letter before the end of the day,” the voice had said.

The receptionist dropped the phone, her face draining completely of color. “What... what did he say?” Arden asked, her breath catching.

“I... I just lost my job, Ma'am,” the young woman whispered, her voice trembling on the verge of tears.

Arden let out a soft sigh. “I knew this would be brutal,” she muttered under her breath. Turning to the receptionist, she added, “I'll handle this. You won't lose your job over it, I promise.”

Without waiting for permission, Arden marched past the desk toward the heavy double doors of the inner office, ignoring the receptionist's panicked gasps.

She stopped directly in front of Ethan Whitmore's private office. Taking one deep, grounding breath, she pushed the heavy oak door open and stepped inside.

A man sat behind a massive mahogany desk, his high-backed leather chair turned completely away from the door. He was impeccably dressed in a custom cream-colored suit that screamed effortless power and wealth, his dark hair neatly styled.

“Ethan Whitmore,” Arden called out clearly the moment she crossed the threshold.

“I'm so sorry, sir! I tried my absolute hardest to stop her!” the receptionist panted, stumbling into the doorway behind Arden and trying to catch her breath. “I can have security escort her out right now—”

“Leave,” Ethan commanded, cutting her off with a single word. His voice was sharp, deep, and utterly freezing.

The receptionist scrambled backward out of the room in sheer terror, pulling the heavy doors shut behind her.

Slowly, deliberately, Ethan swiveled his chair around to face Arden. His striking features were completely void of emotion, his cold eyes locking onto hers.

“What could you possibly want from me, Arden?” Ethan asked, leaning back in his chair.

Arden met his gaze without flinching, her voice steady and resolute.

“I will marry you.”

She paused.

“But first... you have to help me die.”