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The Betrayed VP's Spectacular Corporate Comeback Novel Cover

The Betrayed VP's Spectacular Corporate Comeback

After nine years of sacrifice, lead engineer Arianna discovers her boyfriend Gregory’s cruel reality. He views her as a mere tool while pining for his stepsister and gifting diamonds to an intern. More than just a cheater, Gregory plans to steal her code and oust her from the firm she built. Refusing to be a victim, Arianna secures her intellectual property and hires an investigator. The era of her blind devotion is over; now, she is set to destroy his empire.
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Chapter 6

At two in the morning, the penthouse was completely silent.

Arianna lay flat on her back on the right side of the king-sized bed. Her eyes were wide open, staring at the dark ceiling. She hadn't slept a single minute. The digital clock on her nightstand glowed red: 2:07 AM.

She listened carefully to the space beside her. Gregory's breathing was deep, heavy, and rhythmic. The sheets rustled slightly with each exhale.

To be absolutely sure, she rolled over. She let her arm fall heavily across his chest.

Gregory grunted softly in his sleep, shifting his weight, but his eyes remained shut. His face was slack, mouth slightly open. He was deeply under.

Arianna slowly pulled her arm back. She pushed the silk duvet off her legs, moving so slowly the fabric didn't make a sound.

She slipped out of bed. Her bare feet sank into the plush carpet, silent as she moved.

She walked around the foot of the bed, moving like a predator in the dark, until she reached his nightstand. The bedroom was so quiet she could hear the distant hum of the building's HVAC system.

His iPhone was sitting on the wireless charging pad. The screen was dark.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she picked it up. She pressed the side button.

The harsh blue light of the lock screen flared in the darkness. It felt blinding.

Arianna quickly cupped her hand over the top edge of the phone, shielding the light from hitting Gregory's face.

She swiped up. The keypad appeared.

She typed in her own birthday. It was the passcode he had used for years. He was so arrogant, so confident in her blind trust, that he hadn't even bothered to change it. The phone unlocked with a soft click.

She bypassed his emails and went straight to the iMessage app. Her thumb moved with surgical precision.

She scrolled past the group chats with the board members. Her eyes locked onto a conversation thread saved under the name 'Art Dept - Project K'. The label was innocuous, almost boring. But Arianna knew every project code in the company, and 'Project K' didn't exist. The most recent message had come in at 1:30 AM.

She tapped the thread.

The first thing she saw was a cartoon sticker of a crying bear.

My bed is so cold tonight. I need a hug, the text read.

Gregory had replied with a ten-second audio message.

Arianna couldn't play it. The sound would wake him. She scrolled up, her thumb swiping quickly over the screen. The blue light reflected in her narrowed eyes.

A photo loaded. It was Cristy. She was taking a mirror selfie in a cramped apartment bathroom, wearing a sheer black lace slip. Her auburn hair fell over her bare shoulders. The bathroom behind her was cluttered with makeup and hair products.

Do you like the new outfit? she had texted.

Gregory's reply made Arianna's throat close up.

You're a fucking menace. I wish I was there right now.

Arianna's grip on the phone tightened until the metal edges bit painfully into her palms. A cold sweat broke out across her forehead. She could feel her pulse pounding in her temples.

She forced herself to keep scrolling. She needed to see everything.

The conversation shifted to the office.

Arianna was such a bitch in the UI meeting today, Cristy wrote. She acts like a robot.

Gregory's response sat there in stark blue bubbles.

Let her be a robot. All she knows how to do is code. Trust me, she's just as stiff and boring in bed. Just ignore her.

Arianna bit down on her lower lip so hard she tasted the sharp, metallic tang of blood. Her chest heaved. Her hand was shaking so badly she nearly dropped the phone. She wanted to smash it into his sleeping face.

She reached into the pocket of her silk pajama pants and pulled out her own phone.

She opened the camera, making sure the flash and sound were completely disabled.

She held her phone over his screen. She took a picture of the lingerie photo. She took a picture of his mocking texts. She scrolled and snapped, capturing every disgusting word, every incriminating exchange.

When she had over thirty photos, she swiped out of the app. She locked his phone and placed it exactly as she found it on the charging pad, angled the same way, at the same distance.

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