Chapter 8: The Betrayal Inside My Own Company
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood her.
“My business partner?””
The words sounded impossible.
I didn’t have a business partner.
I had employees.
Managers.
A leadership team.
People I trusted.
But no partner.
“No,” I whispered.
Corinne watched my reaction carefully.
“You didn’t know.””
It wasn’t a question.
It was confirmation.
I felt the room shift beneath me.
“Who?””
She hesitated.
That hesitation made my heart beat faster.
“Who?””
“Marcus.””
The name landed harder than I expected.
Marcus Hale.
My operations director.
The man who had been with my agency since the second year.
The man who knew every major client.
Every financial report.
Every internal system.
The man who had sat beside me during late nights when we were trying to meet impossible deadlines.
The man who once told me:
“You built something incredible, Ava. I’d never do anything to hurt it.””
I looked at Rebecca.
Her expression had changed.
“You know him?””
“Yes,” she said carefully.
“Do you know something?””
“No.””
But the hesitation in her voice bothered me.
I turned back to Corinne.
“Explain.””
She stood up.
For the first time, she looked less like someone defending herself.
She looked like someone trying to control a disaster.
“Marcus approached Weston months ago.””
“Why?””
“To discuss a partnership.””
I laughed.
A bitter, disbelieving sound.
“A partnership?””
“Yes.””
“With my company?””
Corinne didn’t answer.
She didn’t have to.
I felt my hands go cold.
“How long?””
“Almost seven months.””
Seven months.
My mind immediately started counting.
Seven months ago, I had promoted Marcus.
Seven months ago, I had trusted him with more access.
Seven months ago, Weston started acting differently.
I had thought my fiancé was stressed.
I had thought his startup was struggling.
I had thought he needed support.
But maybe the problem was much closer.
“What did Marcus want?””
Corinne looked uncomfortable.
“Control.””
“Over my company?””
“Yes.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
The word came out automatically.
Because accepting it meant accepting that I had been surrounded by people who were all pretending.
“That’s impossible.””
“Ava—”
“No.””
I looked at Rebecca.
“Marcus wouldn’t.””
Rebecca remained silent.
That scared me.
Because she knew I wasn’t asking for comfort.
I was asking for facts.
“Why would he do that?””
Corinne crossed her arms.
“Because he believed he deserved more.””
The sentence sounded familiar.
Too familiar.
Everyone believed they deserved more.
More money.
More control.
More access.
More from me.
“He told Weston that you were holding the company back.””
My jaw tightened.
“What?””
“He said the agency had reached its limit because you refused to expand aggressively.””
I almost laughed.
“Expand aggressively?””
I had spent years protecting the company from reckless decisions.
I built it slowly.
Carefully.
No massive debts.
No irresponsible investments.
No gambling with people’s jobs.
And apparently, that made me a problem.
“What else?””
Corinne looked away.
“He said you were too emotional.””
My eyebrows lifted.
“Emotional?””
“He used your pregnancy as an example.””
The room went silent.
My hand moved instinctively to my stomach.
“He said I was a liability.””
Corinne didn’t respond.
That was enough.
A wave of anger moved through me.
Not because someone insulted me.
Because someone used my child as a reason I should lose control of my own life.
Rebecca stepped forward.
“Ava, we need to leave.””
I nodded.
But before I walked away, I looked at Corinne.
“One question.””
She waited.
“Did Weston love me?””
The question surprised her.
Maybe because it was the one thing I still didn’t have an answer for.
Her expression softened slightly.
“I think he did.””
I swallowed.
“But?””
She looked down.
“But he loved what being with you gave him too.””
That hurt because it was honest.
And honesty was sometimes more painful than cruelty.
I left.
The next morning, I sat in my office conference room staring at Marcus through a glass wall.
He looked exactly the same.
Same expensive watch.
Same calm expression.
Same confident posture.
The kind of person everyone trusted because he always looked like he had the answer.
I wondered how long he had been rehearsing.
Rebecca sat beside me.
“Are you sure you want to do this?””
“Yes.””
“You need to be careful.””
“I know.””
The door opened.
Marcus walked in.
“Ava.””
His smile appeared automatically.
But I noticed something.
He didn’t look surprised to see Rebecca.
That bothered me.
“Marcus.””
He sat down.
“I heard there was some confusion involving Weston.””
Confusion.
Another careful word.
I folded my hands.
“There is.””
He nodded sympathetically.
“I’m sorry you’re dealing with this.””
I watched him.
“You knew.””
His expression stayed neutral.
“Knew what?””
I placed a document on the table.
His eyes moved to it.
Just for a second.
But that second was enough.
“You knew about the ownership transfer.””
His face changed.
Barely.
But I saw it.
“Ava, I think you’re misunderstanding—”
“No.””
I leaned forward.
“I’m not.””
Silence.
Rebecca opened her folder.
“We have records showing communication between you and Weston.””
Marcus looked at her.
“Communication is not illegal.””
“No,” Rebecca said.
“But hiding your involvement in a transfer attempt involving a company you work for is a serious issue.””
Marcus leaned back.
“I was trying to protect the company.””
I stared at him.
“By taking it from me?””
“That’s not what happened.””
“Then explain.””
He sighed.
“You don’t understand what investors want.””
There it was.
The same phrase.
The same arrogance.
Everyone assumed I was incapable of understanding because they had already decided I was just the person holding the money.
“I understand exactly what investors want.””
“Do you?””
“Yes.””
I pointed toward the office window.
“I understand they want growth.””
Then I pointed toward the financial reports.
“I understand they want returns.””
Then I looked at him.
“And I understand they don’t get to steal what they didn’t build.””
His expression hardened.
“I built this company with you.””
“No.””
My voice became quiet.
“You worked for this company.””
The silence after that was immediate.
Because everyone who takes something from you eventually tells themselves they earned it.
Marcus looked away.
“You’re making a mistake.””
“No.””
I shook my head.
“I made a mistake when I trusted you.””
His jaw tightened.
Then he smiled.
Not warmly.
Not kindly.
A warning.
“You should ask yourself why Weston agreed so quickly.””
I froze.
“What?””
Marcus stood.
“He didn’t come up with this alone.””
Rebecca looked up.
“What are you implying?””
Marcus grabbed his jacket.
“I’m saying you should stop looking for one villain.””
He walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
“Because the person you trusted most may not be the person you think.””
After he left, I sat there.
Silent.
Because I hated that his words worked.
Not because I believed him.
Because I had learned one terrifying lesson.
People around me were capable of hiding entire versions of themselves.
Rebecca watched me.
“Ava.””
I looked at her.
“What?””
“We need to check your internal records.””
“Why?””
“Because if Marcus had access, he may have changed more than ownership documents.””
My stomach tightened.
“How much more?””
“We don’t know.””
An hour later, our IT specialist came into the conference room.
His face told me something was wrong before he spoke.
“Ava.””
“What?””
He placed a laptop on the table.
“We found something.””
I looked at the screen.
There were files.
Hidden folders.
Access logs.
Emails.
My name appeared repeatedly.
Then I saw the date.
The date the first file was created.
My breath stopped.
Because it was created three days after Weston and I got engaged.
Rebecca leaned closer.
“What is that?””
The IT specialist swallowed.
“A folder containing a complete transition plan.””
“For what?””
He looked at me.
“For removing you from your own company.””
I stared at the screen.
Then I saw the final file.
The one marked:
*Phase Two — After Wedding Completion.*
My hands went cold.
Because suddenly, I understood.
The wedding wasn’t just a celebration.
May you like
It was a deadline.
And the plan had been scheduled to begin the day after I became Mrs. Whitmore.
