Chapter 2

I stared at the message, the blood in my veins turning to ice. Bryce noticed my expression and frowned, his gaze dropping to my phone.

"Is he threatening you?" he asked.

I quickly pocketed the phone and wrenched my hand free. "It's none of your business."

I ran up the stairs and slammed my bedroom door, locking it behind me. Leaning against the cool wood, I finally felt the chill on my back. My shirt was soaked with cold sweat. Downstairs, Bryce started knocking, a steady, persistent rhythm.

"Michelle, open the door," he called. "We need to talk."

"I have nothing to talk about with you," I yelled back.

"You're not safe alone," he argued. "I know what Peter is like. He won't let this go."

"So what? I'd rather he kill me than have to look at another Harrison."

The knocking stopped. I thought he had left. I felt a wave of relief, followed by a strange, hollow emptiness. A moment later, my phone rang. It was Bryce.

I declined the call. He called again, and I declined again. The third time, a text message appeared: [I'm not leaving. I'll be right outside this door until you're ready to talk.]

I threw my phone onto the bed in frustration and spent a sleepless night.

The next morning, I made my way downstairs with dark circles under my eyes, only to find the living room deserted. A lone breakfast sat on the dining table, pinned down by a business card.

It was Bryce's personal card.

Without a second thought, I swept them both into the trash.

After getting ready, I drove to work. The moment I stepped into the office, I knew something was wrong. My colleagues were gathered in small groups, whispering and pointing at me, and their eyes were filled with a mixture of scorn and glee.

My assistant, Wendy Lynn, rushed over with an anxious expression. "Michelle, you need to see the company intranet."

I opened the internal forum on my computer. A trending post, highlighted in red, immediately burned my eyes.

[Scandal of the Century: Our design director, Michelle Green, cheats on her husband with his brother. She gets kicked out of the family.]

The post went into lurid detail about how "promiscuous" and "shameless" I was. It even included photos from the scene at the villa yesterday, taken from a deliberately misleading angle.

They made it look like Bryce and I were intimately entangled, while Peter was the poor, cuckolded victim. The post was anonymous, but I knew without a doubt it was Peter's handiwork.

The office door opened, and the head of HR walked in, her expression looking grim. "Michelle, go to my office now."

I took a deep breath and followed her.

"The board is aware of the situation," she said, pushing a document across the desk toward me. "Regardless of the truth, this has caused significant damage to the company's reputation. Therefore, the decision has been made to suspend you, effective immediately."

She paused. "You can return to work when you have resolved your personal matters."

It was a firing, wrapped in corporate jargon.

I walked out of her office holding the suspension notice, the world spinning around me.

*****

I didn't know how I managed to drive back to the villa. As I pulled up, I saw a familiar black Bentley parked a short distance away.

Bryce was leaning against it. When he saw me, he immediately stubbed out his cigarette and walked toward me.

"I heard about what happened at your firm," he said.

I looked at him and felt a hysterical laugh bubble up inside me. "You heard? So what? Are you here for another front-row seat to my humiliation?"

"No," he said, frowning as he tried to explain. "As soon as I heard, I went to talk to your company's management, but..."

"But it was useless, right?" I cut him off. "Bryce, does cleaning up your little brother's messes make you feel like some kind of noble hero?"

My words left him speechless, a rare look of discomfort crossing his handsome face. I walked past him toward the front door.

His tired voice followed me. "Michelle, let me handle this. I promise, I will make this right."

I didn't look back.

Back in the empty house, I collapsed onto the sofa and called my only real friend, Tiffany Stone.

The moment she answered, the tears I had been holding back finally broke free. Tiffany arrived in a fury, her eyes blazing as she took in my swollen face.

"That son of a bitch, Peter," she seethed. "I'm going to kill him."

She held me for a long time, letting me cry it out. Then, her expression hardened. "Michelle, we can't let him get away with this. We have to sue him. For defamation."

"But I've been suspended," I whispered. "And you know how powerful the Harrison family is in this city. I can't win against them."

Tiffany's eyes lit up. "Who said you had to do it alone? You forgot? You have Bryce, don't you? He helped you yesterday, right? That means he and his brother aren't on the same page. The enemy of my enemy is our friend."

I hesitated. Asking Bryce for help felt worse than death.

"Michelle, this is not the time for pride," Tiffany said sharply. "Think about your mother. What did she tell you before she passed? To live a good life and not let anyone push you around.

"Are you honoring her memory by letting them walk all over you?"

Her words hit me like a sledgehammer. She was right. I couldn't just give up.

I fished the crumpled business card out of the trash, wiped it clean, and with a trembling hand, dialed the number. The call was answered almost instantly.

Bryce's voice sounded gravelly. "It's me."

I closed my eyes and spoke slowly, "I need a lawyer."

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"Okay," he said. "The best lawyer in the city will contact you tomorrow morning."

Just before he hung up, he added, "I'll cover the legal fees. Consider it an apology from the Harrison family on behalf of that animal."