Chapter 11 Her reveal
Kayla’s POV
The sound of his voice echoed up the marble staircase, loud and desperate. “Kayla! Please, just hear me out!”
I stood frozen near the railing, my heart thudding in my chest as the security guards struggled to calm him. He was causing a scene… here, at a wedding after-party full of dignitaries and press. I could hear the guests murmuring, some whispering my name.
“Miss Brooks, should we call the police?” one of the guards asked from below.
“Let them handle it,” I said coldly, even though my palms were damp and trembling.
Haylee squeezed my arm gently. “Kayla, don’t worry. He’ll leave soon. Just don’t go down there.”
I gave a stiff nod, even though I could feel the weight of every word Adrian shouted pressing into my chest.
“I was wrong!” he yelled again, his voice cracking. “I was blinded and stupid! Kayla, please — I’m sorry for everything!”
The entire hotel lobby had gone quiet. His voice carried through the air, filled with regret and something else — desperation.
Haylee frowned, whispering, “He’s really not holding back, is he?”
I didn’t reply. My jaw was locked, my face expressionless. Inside, though, I was shaking. Every word he said felt like claws scratching against wounds I’d spent years healing.
He went on and on, saying he wanted to make things right, saying he still thought about me. Then, as if determined to make things worse, he shouted, “Yes, I was married to her — she’s my ex-wife, and I ruined everything!”
Gasps rippled through the guests downstairs. A few phones came up. Cameras clicked.
My stomach sank.
“Kayla…” Haylee murmured, glancing toward me with wide eyes.
I turned away sharply, blinking back the sting in my eyes. “He just made everything worse.”
We waited until he finally stopped yelling. The guards escorted him out, his voice fading as he said one last time, “I’ll fix this, Kayla. I’ll prove I’ve changed.”
When the door finally shut, the silence was deafening.
Haylee let out a small sigh. “He’s gone.”
I stayed quiet, but my chest felt tight, burning with anger and humiliation. “He made me a spectacle,” I muttered.
That night, I left the hotel before anyone could speak to me. The ride home was quiet, except for the sound of my driver’s faint humming and the city lights flashing past. My mind wouldn’t stop spinning.
The moment I entered my mansion, I pulled out my phone and called Maya. She answered on the second ring.
“Miss Kayla?”
“Inform my lawyer to file a lawsuit against Adrian Ward,” I said sharply, pacing across the marble floor. “For harassment, defamation — everything. I won’t let him use me to redeem himself.”
Maya’s voice came calm but firm. “Miss Kayla, slow down. Tell me what happened.”
I explained everything — how he caused a scene, how people recorded it, how his shouting confirmed our marriage in front of half the city’s elites.
There was a pause. Then she said gently, “If you sue him now, it’ll blow up even more. The media will feast on it. You’ll give them weeks of free headlines. You can’t afford that, not with the DreamSpace project nearing launch.”
“Maya, I can’t just sit and do nothing,” I snapped, gripping the edge of my desk.
“You can,” she said softly. “You’ve done it before. You rose above him once. Don’t let him drag you down now.”
Her words lingered long after I ended the call.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I lay awake, staring at the city lights bleeding through my curtains. No matter how many times I told myself I was over him, tonight proved I wasn’t untouched. He still had a way of pulling chaos wherever he went.
But this time, I wouldn’t break.
The following morning, Maya arrived early, as usual, tablet in hand. I was already dressed in a dark navy pantsuit, hair sleeked back, ready for my scheduled live interview.
“You’re really going?” she asked.
“I don’t run from things,” I replied curtly, fastening my watch.
She studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. But please, be careful what you say.”
We left for the TV station, and I could already feel the buzz around the place when we got there. Producers whispered as we passed. I knew why.
Adrian’s outburst had gone viral overnight. Every news page was plastered with clips of him yelling my name in that hotel lobby.
The live show began smoothly. The interviewer was warm and professional, asking about Brooks Atelier’s growth, my leadership style, and the DreamSpace Project. I smiled, answering each question with practiced ease.
But then, the interviewer tilted her head slightly, her smile sharpening.
“Miss Brooks,” she began, “rumours have been circulating about your personal life — specifically about your alleged marriage to Adrian Ward, the former CEO of Ward International. Would you like to clear the air for your audience?”
The question hit me like a dart. I caught Maya’s reflection off-camera… her eyes widened in warning, her lips mouthing, ‘Don’t answer that’.
But I’d had enough of running from the past.
I folded my hands and said calmly, “Yes. It’s true. I was once married to Adrian Ward.”
The interviewer blinked, slightly taken aback. “I see. And… may I ask, are you two still in contact?”
I smiled faintly. “No. We divorced four years ago, and I haven’t spoken to him since — not until recent events.”
The interviewer leaned forward. “Many people online are wondering if there’s a chance you two might rekindle your relationship.”
Maya’s hand froze mid-note.
My pulse quickened, but I forced a small, controlled smile. “The Ward family is a respected family,” I said smoothly. “Adrian and I might share a professional space now, and if that partnership benefits both our companies, I’m open to it.”
Even before the interviewer moved on, I knew exactly what the headlines would say.
By the time the cameras turned off, my social media notifications were already exploding on Maya’s tablet.
The media would twist my words… I could feel it.