The CEO's contract of desperation

Chapter Four: Shackled by Scandal

Early that morning, the video had been removed from every corner of the internet. But its damage was irreversible. Alexander Knight’s phone had buzzed with a single piece of information that sent his fury into overdrive, the hotel’s employee records had revealed every detail about the woman involved. Her name was Isabella Rosenthal. Reading those details, Alexander clenched his fist.

“She can’t go scot‑free,” he growled under his breath. “If she was truly involved in this, she’ll pay dearly.”

Across town, Isabella’s night had been a blur of heartbreak. She’d barely made it through the long, cold night, sleep had eluded her, tormented by whispers on the subway, the echo of taunts, and the memory of Mr. Grayson’s disgusting proposition. In one night, she had lost everything, her dignity, her job, and any shred of peace she once had. She’d never felt so alone.

Even though her best friend, Evelyn Carter, had tried to comfort her, offering food and a safe place to stay, Isabella had pushed away any help. At dawn, she trudged home, her feet dragging and her heart hollow. The moment she stepped into her tiny apartment, the crushing reality of her downfall hit her like a tidal wave. The cluttered space, with its dirty dishes, scattered clothes, and a half-drunk bottle of water on the nightstand, seemed to mirror the disaster that had become her life.

With a heavy sigh, she peeled off her damp clothes and stepped into the shower. The lukewarm water did little to wash away the filth that had settled deep within her. She scrubbed her skin until it stung, yet the shame, anger, and hopelessness stubbornly clung to her like a second skin.

Just as she began drying her hair, a commotion erupted outside. At first, Isabella tried to ignore the noise. But as voices grew louder, shouting, arguing, a frenzy of activity, she crept over to the window and pulled back the curtains just enough to peek outside. Her breath caught in her throat.

A mob of reporters and paparazzi had gathered below her building. Cameras flashed, microphones were thrust forward, and harsh voices filled the air, it was a battlefield of prying eyes. Her stomach churned. How had they found her? The internet, she knew, never forgot. They’d traced her using the employee records, tracking her down to this very doorstep.

Before she could process the shock, a sharp knock pounded on her door. A firm, authoritative voice called out, “Miss Isabella Rosenthal, open up now!”

Isabella’s blood turned to ice. Slowly, with trembling hands, she walked to the door, her heart pounding in her ears. She unlocked the door and cracked it open, peeking out cautiously. Blinding flashes of camera lights hit her face, and reporters shouted questions, their words overlapping in a chaotic cacophony.

Then a voice rang out, clear and unyielding: “You’re under arrest, Miss Rosenthal.”

The world spun. “For what?” she managed to whisper, her voice cracking with terror.

Standing before her were two police officers, a towering man with a stern expression and a stout, no-nonsense woman. The tall officer announced, “You have been charged with illegally recording and distributing a private video without consent, resulting in defamation and irreparable damage to the victim’s reputation.”

The victim.

Alexander Knight.

Isabella’s eyes burned with disbelief and anger. “I…I didn’t do it!” she cried out, taking a step back.

The chubby officer repeated, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

Almost instantly, the reporters surged forward, their shouts mixing with insults: “Is it true you seduced him on purpose?” “Did you do this for money?” “Are you a scam artist?” Each question sliced through her like a knife.

Before she could offer any defense, cold metal handcuffs snapped around her wrists. In a blur of flashing lights and shouting voices, Isabella Rosenthal, already drowning in disgrace, was dragged out of her apartment and into a waiting police car. The harsh, unyielding glare of cameras and the bitter sound of jeers filled her ears as the car drove off into the chaos of the morning.

---

The jail cell was a bleak, unforgiving place. Damp concrete walls and the oppressive smell of sweat and despair did little to alleviate the crushing weight of her new reality. Isabella sat curled in a corner, hugging her knees tightly. No one believed her. The police had dismissed her frantic pleas, treating her words as the desperate ramblings of a woman ruined by scandal. She had begged them to call her brother, to call Evelyn, anyone who might understand. But hours passed in silence until finally, a guard approached.

“There’s someone here to see you,” the guard said in a gruff tone.

Hope flickered in Isabella’s chest. Maybe it was her brother Emile. Maybe it was Evelyn. With shaky steps, she followed the guard down the corridor to the visiting room.

When the door opened, Isabella’s heart pounded in her ears. She expected a friendly face, a comforting smile, but what she saw made her freeze. Standing there was Alexander Knight. His tall, imposing figure filled the room, and his stormy blue eyes met hers, cool and unreadable at first. Then slowly, he turned toward her. The atmosphere grew tense, as if the very air between them crackled with unresolved anger and regret.

“Sit down,” Alexander said in a low, measured tone that left no room for argument. His words were cold, yet there was a hint of something else, something unspoken that both terrified and fascinated her.

Isabella hesitated, then slowly sank into a chair opposite him. Her heart pounded as she tried to steady herself.

“Why did you do it?” Alexander finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper yet weighted with quiet fury.

“I didn’t do anything,” Isabella replied, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and hurt. “I never recorded anything. I….I was just there to clean.”

Alexander’s eyes narrowed as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. With deliberate taps, he brought up a grainy security video. “Look at this,” he said, his voice harsh. The video clearly showed a man sneaking into the hotel room before Alexander had arrived, an intruder. The timestamp confirmed it. Isabella’s eyes widened as she watched, her breath catching in her throat.

“I….I don't know him,” she stuttered, voice trembling. “I only came to clean. I saw nothing.”

Alexander’s expression twisted between disbelief and anger. “Tell me, why didn’t you stop me?” he demanded, taking a step closer so that his presence loomed over her. “Why didn’t you tell me to stop?”

Her eyes filled with tears as she struggled to find her voice. “Because you made the first move,” she whispered harshly. “You overpowered me…. I never had a chance to say anything.”

A heavy silence fell over the room, thick with tension. Alexander’s jaw tightened as he struggled with his conflicting emotions. Then a long silence followed.

Isabella’s voice, barely audible through her sobs, finally broke the silence. “I lost everything that day, Alexander. I’ve been called every name in the book….I was fired, and now I’m here, a public disgrace. I never wanted any of this.”

His eyes flashed with a bitter intensity. “Then why didn’t you say something?” he asked, his tone both accusing and desperate. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

Tears streamed down her face as she looked away, her voice choked with emotion. “I didn’t know what to do. I was scared. I never wanted this to happen.”

For a long, agonizing moment, the only sound was the ticking of the clock and the heavy breaths of the two people in the room. Alexander’s eyes softened briefly before hardening again.

Her heart broke at his words, and she could only whisper, “I wish I’d never met you. I wish it never happened.”

Those words somehow cut through Alexander, for a moment he fell silent.

Alexander’s face contorted with a mix of anger and regret as he slowly stood. “I need to figure this out,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving hers. “I need to clear my name, restore my reputation, and I need to know if you’re truly innocent.”

Before Isabella could speak, the door slammed behind him. He turned, leaving her there, alone in the cold, empty room. The heavy clank of the door echoed as she was led b

ack to her cell, each step a reminder that her life was now shackled by scandal.