CHAPTER 3- The Scandal

Freya knew something was wrong the moment she walked into the office that morning. The usual buzz of conversation died as she passed the cubicles replaced by a heavy silence that made her heels sound too loud against the marble floors.. Coworkers stared at her, then quickly looked away when she noticed them. Even Jim from Accounting, who usually couldn't even look at her, was openly watching her every move.

She'd dressed carefully that morning – a crisp navy blazer over a silk blouse, with a smoothly ironed suit trouser accompanied with her black 6 inch heels.

"Ms. Freya!" Her assistant Lena burst through the door agitated before Freya could even put down her coffee. Stephanie’s face was red, and she placed her tablet quit tight against her chest. Her usually perfectly styled hair was slightly messy, suggesting she'd been running her hands through it – something she only did when really stressed. "You need to see this right now.” Stephanie said, tensed.

The tablet landed on her desk, and Freya almost dropped her coffee when she saw the headline:

HEADLINES: STARS COMPANY HEIR CAUGHT KISSING HARTS ENTERPRISE VP IN A 5 STAR RESTAURANT.

Her stomach turned as she looked at the photo below. There she was, pushed against the restaurant wall, with Mark Wilson leaning over her. What was an angry confrontation now looked like a romantic moment. Her casual outfit only made it worse, making everything look like a secret relationship.

"This is insane—" she started to say, but her phone buzzed with messages. Friends from college, business contacts, even family members she hadn't talked to in years were all congratulating her on a relationship that wasn't real. Freya was lost of words, still trying to process the whole situation within.

"There's more," Lena said, scrolling down. "The stock market's blowing up." Everyone thinks this is some kind of corporate merger strategy.”

Hart Enterprises' stock had jumped 15% before the market even opened. Business news channels were already talking about a possible merger between the companies.

Her office phone rang. Then her cell phone. Then her email pinged with an urgent message from PR.

"Stephanie, don't let anyone call me except—"

"Ms. Freya," Stephanie cut in, eyes wide. "Your father's on the line now."

The same father who'd tried to force her into an arranged marriage just days ago. Who'd threatened to cut her off if she said no. And now her plan to give it a try had completely shattered in her face.

"Stephanie," she said, keeping her voice calm despite her anger, "find out who took that photo and leaked it to the press. Tell my father I'm in a meeting. And clear my schedule – this is going to be a long day."

She barely had time to process the ongoing situation before more problems arose. The moment she stepped outside the building, camera flashes blinded her.

"Ms. Freya! Are you engaged?" "How long have you been dating Mark Wilson?" "What does this mean for both companies?"

Reporters pushed closer, shoving microphones in her face. She stepped back, trying to shield her eyes from the flashes, when a black car suddenly pulled up beside her. The driver jumped out and opened the back door.

Inside sat Mark Wilson, looking absolutely furious. His usual perfectly styled appearance was slightly messy, as if he'd been running his hands through his hair in frustration. The top button of his shirt was undone, like his usual appearance but this time it looked intentionally messy – small details that spoke about his state of mind. "Get in," he ordered coldly.

The moment the door closed behind her, he snapped on her with rage in his eyes. "How dare you," he snapped. "Using me to make your company's stock price go up? What a clever little plan."

"What? I didn't—"

"Don't lie," he cut her off. "Your company's stock shoots up right when these photos come out? That's no accident."

"You think I planned this?" Freya's own anger rose. "Those reporters ambushed me just like—"

"Fix it." His voice dropped dangerously low. "Make this go away by the end of today. Or you'll regret it."

The car stopped suddenly in the middle of the street. "Get out."

"We're in the middle of—"

"I said get the fuck out!." He wouldn't even look at her. "And Ms. Freya? Time's running out."

Freya was shocked if this is the same guy that couldn't get his eyes off her.

Standing on the sidewalk, watching his car disappear, Freya shook with anger. How dare he blame her for this mess? But then a terrible thought hit her: if Mark hadn't planned this, and she hadn't planned this... who had?

She pulled out her phone and called a number she'd sworn never to use again – not since that night three years ago when she'd ended up on her bathroom floor with a split lip, while her ex packed his bags to leave with his young intern.

He answered immediately. "Missing me, sweetheart?"

"You leaked those photos," she said, her voice shaking with anger.

"Aww, not happy with how they turned out? I thought you looked quite sexy with your new boy toy.”

"Why?" She clenched her free hand into a fist. "What do you get out of this?"

“What!!” She screamed with rage this time.

His laugh made her skin crawl. "Don't blame me, my darling workaholic wife. Your father made it worth my time. Plus, watching you struggle is just a bonus."

The world seemed to spin. "My father?"

"Oh, he didn't tell you? Ask him yourself about those rising stock prices." He laughed again. "Gotta go – my date's waiting. You remember Jessica, right? She says hi."

“Fuck you David, Fuck you!!! Ass hole! And I'm not your wife, get that into your dumb brain you sick moron!” She boiled so much with rage and ended the call.

The call ended, leaving Freya staring at her phone. Her father. Of course it was her father, controlling her life like she was just another business deal.

She had her resignation letter ready in her desk drawer. She'd planned to leave quietly, with dignity. But if he wanted to play dirty…

She waved down a taxi, her mind already planning her next move. The yellow car pulled up to the curb, and she slid into the back seat, the leather cool against her skin. "Hart Enterprises tower," she told the driver as they pulled away from the curb. She'd give her father her resignation – right after she exposed his whole game.

"It's about time," she whispered to herself.