A mess indeed

A mess indeed
Trista’s POV

The moment Chad stormed out of my office in a fit of rage, a strange weight settled on my
chest.
I still stood frozen, my fingers gripping the edge of my desk as the remnants of his presence
lingered like a bad taste in my mouth. My heart was still racing from the earlier confrontation,
from the rage I have never seen in his eyes—the humiliation.
I should have felt relieved that he was gone. Instead, unease slithered through me.
Something about the way he looked at me before leaving spoke volumes.

Like he was planning something.
Like he wouldn’t let this go.
It’d be unlike chad not to revenge.
I exhaled shakily, running a hand through my hair.
This wasn’t over.
I knew that much at least.
The door to my office was still wide open from when Chad had barged in, and I could still feel
the weight of the silence beyond it. My employees had without doubt heard the commotion.
They had seen him leave, shoulders tense, jaw tight, barely masking his anger.

God, what a big mess.
I moved toward the door and to shut it firmly, shutting out the lingering eyes of my employees
and the unspoken questions. Right now, I needed a moment to breathe.
To think.
I turned, pressing my back against the door, staring blankly at my office replaying the whole
drama that just happened again in my head. The papers on my desk were slightly scattered, my
chair pushed back from the impact of my movements when Chad had walked in on Leonard and
me.
Leonard.

The memory of his touch was still very fresh. His lips. The way my body had responded so
instinctively.
But Chad’s interruption had shattered everything. And now…
I pushed off the door and walked towards my desk, fingers brushing over the documents I was
supposed to review today. My schedule was already packed, my responsibilities endless. Yet,
my mind refused to focus just like I wanted it to.
I reached for my phone, wanting to check the time, when a knock sounded on the door.
I stiffened expecting it to be chad
Come in, I said, my voice steady despite the storm brewing in my chest.

The door opened, and Emily James, my assistant and my closest confidante in this office,
stepped inside. Her expression was quite unreadable, but there was this hint of urgency in her
eyes.
What is it? I asked, trying to regain my composure.
She hesitated. Then—
You need to see this.
My stomach dropped.
Emily never spoke like that unless it was serious.
I straightened, pushing aside my emotions. What happened Emily?
She stepped closer and placed her phone on my desk, screen facing up. A news article was
pulled up.

I frowned, scanning the headline.
And my blood turned to ice immediately.
SCANDAL AT DEVERAUX ENTERPRISES: CEO TRISTA HAWTHORNE ACCUSED OF
FINANCIAL FRAUD
My pulse roared in my ears.
What the hell is this? I whispered, grabbing the phone to read further.
My name was plastered across the page, along with baseless accusations and claims that I had
been involved in fraudulent business dealings, that funds had been mishandled. There were
sources alleging that I had hidden assets, that my company’s financials were under
investigation.
This wasn’t just a rumor.

This was a full-blown attack, anyone would know this fact.
My grip on the phone tightened hard.
How did this get out? I asked sharply.
Emily’s expression darkened.
“I don’t know, but it’s spreading really fast. News outlets have
already picked it up. People are already starting to talk and ask questions.
I felt my breath hitch. My company. My reputation. The empire I had built with my own two
hands, all my heard of hard work.
And now it was being dragged through the mud.
No.
No, this couldn’t be happening to me.

I moved around my desk, grabbing my laptop, my fingers moving furiously as I searched for
more details. The news was spreading like a wildfire. Reports were being written, questions
being asked. Social media was already in a frenzy.
And my name was at the center of it.
I clenched my jaw, swallowing down the panic clawing at my throat.
Who did this?
Who had the power to orchestrate a plan like this?
My stomach twisted as a single name came to mind.
Chad.

I didn’t want to believe it.
But I knew him too well.
Knew what he was capable of.
I knew that he wouldnt back down without a fight.
Knew how deep his bitterness ran.
After what had just happened in my office, after the humiliation he suffered walking in on me and
Leonard, after everything—
This timing wasn’t a coincidence.
I looked at Emily. Do we have any official statements? Any confirmation that this investigation is
real?

She shook her head. No official reports has been made. But the media is running with it. We
need to get ahead of this before it spirals out of control.
My fingers curled into a fist. Get me in touch with legal. I want to know if anyone from our
finance team has heard about this.
Emily nodded and immediately got to work, but my mind was already miles ahead.
I turned back to my phone, staring at the article.
The accusations were too specific. Too precise. Someone had planted this.
And if I had to bet—
It was him.

But Chad wouldn’t do this too me exactly.
A single thought surfaced.
Chad will know what to do.
He always had a plan.
Because despite everything, I trusted him.
He wouldn’t let this happen to me.
He had always looked out for me, had always been there when things spiraled out of control.
And if there was one person who could help me figure out who was behind this, it was him.
I exhaled sharply, my grip tightening around the phone as the weight of doubt settled in my
bones. Chad had always been calculating, but this?
This was war.

Maybe he was just trying to rattle me.
My jaw clenched. If he thought I was going to cower, that I was going to let him win this sick
game.
He had another thing coming.
I took a slow, steady breath, calming the fire raging inside me. My mind was already formulating
a plan.
Step one: Confirm whether this investigation was real.
Step two: Get ahead of the media narrative.
Step three…
Confirm my doubt if chad is really the one behind all these.
I unlocked my phone and opened my messages.
I hesitated for only a second before typing.
Trista: Was this you?
I attached the article.
My finger hovered over the send button.
And then, without another thought—
I sent it.

I turned back again to my phone, my fingers moving quickly as I typed.
Trista: Chad, I need to see you.
I hesitated for only a second before adding:
Trista: Something is wrong.
Then I hit send. The moment it delivered, a sense of finality washed over me.
This was it.
The line had been drawn.
if indeed Chad wanted a fight?
He was about to get one.
And I had zero intentions of losing.