Page 93 of In Love With Mr. Wrong

Grayson’s jaw tics.

I don’t blink. “So you went to Eleanor King.”

“I didn’t know it was her at first. It was a third-party contact. They asked questions about ethics, transparency. About the Vegas marriage, the algorithm…”

“You leaked internal documents,” Olivia cuts in sharply. “Drafts of our client protocols, preliminary testing data.PulseMatchused your phrasing in a national campaign.”

Ashley pales, but her chin lifts slightly. “Because they were right. People deserve better than flashy branding and a love story wrapped in a scandal. You sayPerfectly Matchedis about compatibility. But lately, it feels more like performance.”

Her eyes shift to me. "I wanted to protect what we built. You taught me to challenge power when it stops serving people."

The words hit somewhere deep, and I hate that.

“Don’t twist my principles into your excuse,” I say, my voice soft but sharp as broken glass. “You didn’t challenge power. You sold it. Quietly. And you didn’t come to me, not once, before betraying every client who trusted us.”

She opens her mouth to speak again, but I raise a hand.

“No. You’re done. You’ll receive formal documentation within the hour. Your access has already been revoked. And you won’t speak to the press, not if you value your future in this industry.”

She hesitates. “Are you threatening me?”

“No,” I say calmly. “I’m reminding you of the weight of your choices.”

Grayson steps forward, his gaze steady. “You had talent. A future. But not enough character to match it.”

Ashley stands, her cheeks flushed. “I hope you realize one day how dangerous it is to believe your own story.”

I hold her gaze. “I know exactly what story I’m in.”

When the door closes behind her, silence blooms.

Olivia exhales and turns back to her tablet. “We’ll clean it up. Reaffirm protocols, issue a client-wide statement. I can have language drafted in two hours.”

Grayson watches me for a long beat. “You okay?”

“I will be.” I glance out at the skyline, where the sun is beginning to dip behind towers of steel and glass. “I just need a minute.”

***

Back at the penthouse, the space feels very still. The windows glow with the warmth of golden hour, streaking across polished floors and soft colored furniture, but the tension hasn’t left my spine.

Grayson walks into the kitchen, loosening his tie as he pours sparkling water into two glasses. He offers me one, brushing his fingers lightly along mine. “That was brutal,” he says.

“She made it easy.”

“You still feel it.”

“Of course I do. I mentored her. I fought to bring her in.”

He sets his glass down. “She didn’t just question the company. She questioned your judgment.”

I nod slowly. “That’s what betrayal is. Personal.”

A beat of quiet passes.

Then he says, “Crane sent over the final intel.”

My head lifts. “Yeah?”

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