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CHAPTER 12
Last Updated:
2025-02-23 21:35:53
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The Ruthless CEO'S Chosen Wife CHAPTER 13
Michelle’s fingers drummed nervously against the edge of her phone, the screen dark and reflective under the soft office lights. The anonymous message from earlier replayed in her mind, each word etched deep with a foreboding chill that refused to fade. “Be careful whom you trust. Not everyone is who they seem.” Her eyes flickered to Raymond’s closed office door, uncertainty coiling tight in her chest. She needed to tell him—about Eleanor, about Calvin’s unsettling friendliness, about the text she had received, that made her skin prickle with unease. But the past few days had been tense between them, conversations clipped and distant, weighed down by lingering guilt and misunderstandings. They had barely talked in the past few days. Steeling herself, Michelle took a deep breath and walked towards his office, hesitating only a moment before knocking softly. “Come in,” Raymond’s voice was brisk, distracted. She stepped inside, clutching her phone tightly. Raymond was at his desk, his
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Calvin's presence seemed to linger, something that Michelle couldn't quite shake. His charm was effortless, smooth words laced with an undertone that left her uneasy. It started with casual remarks, harmless enough to dismiss—a compliment here, a lingering glance there. But as the days passed, his attention grew more pointed, his questions more probing, and he lingered more than necessary. It made Michelle uneasy and suspicious. "So," Calvin drawled one afternoon, leaning against her desk with that easy smile that never quite reached his eyes. "How are things with Raymond? Must be a bit overwhelming, huh? The sudden marriage, all these changes..." Michelle’s fingers stilled on the file she was organizing, her eyes flickering up to meet his own. "We're… managing," she replied cautiously, forcing a polite smile. "It's an adjustment." Calvin chuckled, the sound low and warm. "I bet. Must be hard, though, considering how cold and distant he's been lately." His gaze was speculative, his
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That night, the door to their penthouse clicked shut with a dull finality, the silence inside was thick and suffocating. Michelle's fingers trembled slightly as she turned, watching Raymond walk across the living room without a single glance in her direction. His shoulders were rigid, each step deliberate and unyielding, his anger barely contained. “Raymond, please, can you just listen to me please” she started softly, voice cracking around the edges. “It wasn’t what it looked like. I was just—” “Just what?” Raymond's voice cut through the air, icy and sharp. He turned abruptly, his eyes glinting with something darker than she'd seen before—anger, betrayal, something that twisted painfully in her chest. “Entertaining him? Laughing behind my back?” The accusation struck deep, leaving her breathless. “No I wasn't laughing behind your back, I—I would never,” Michelle stammered, throat tight. “He just wanted to talk. And I was trying to be polite.” “Polite?” Raymond's laugh was harsh,
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Morning came dull and heavy, dragging Michelle from a fitful sleep on the living room couch. Her eyes were swollen, her head throbbing with exhaustion and the weight of everything that had happened in the past few days. The penthouse was eerily quiet, a silence that pressed her down with an almost suffocating weight. Raymond’s study door was still tightly shut, no sign of him stirring since last night’s confrontation, he had refused to come out of the study or talk to her. Three days. The words echoed in her ear relentlessly, a countdown ticking in her mind. She had to prove her innocence somehow—to find out who was setting her up and why. Calvin and Eleanor's faces flashed in her mind, their sly smiles and veiled comments, and her fists clenched at the thought. They were behind this; she was sure of it. But proving it was a different matter,and she had just two days left. The vibration of her phone jolted her out of her thoughts. Michelle hesitated, glancing at the screen. A name s
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The tension in the penthouse was suffocating, a cold war of silence that left Michelle on edge with every step. Raymond had barely looked at her since last night’s confrontation, his words still echoing mercilessly in her mind. You’re running out of time. She moved through the living room like a ghost, nerves frayed and exhaustion pulling at her limbs. Three days to clear her name, to find proof that Eleanor and Calvin were behind the setup. But Miranda's unexpected appearance had complicated everything , her words replaying relentlessly in Michelle's head. Sometimes, the real enemy is closer than you think. A knock at the door disrupted the quiet living room. Michelle flinched, snapping out of her thoughts and hesitated before pulling it open. A hotel staff member stood outside, expression polite and detached. “Mrs. Hawthorne, Mrs. Eleanor Hawthorne has requested your presence for lunch in the dining hall,” he announced. “She insisted it was urgent.” Michelle’s stomach twisted at
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Michelle's hands trembled as she dialed Chloe's number, desperation tightening her throat. The phone barely rang twice before Chloe's voice came through, warm and steady—she saw it as a lifeline. "Michelle? What's wrong?" Chloe asked, the concern evident in her tone. "I need your help," Michelle whispered, the words rushing out in a plea. "Do you know anyone from forensics? Is there a way you can contact them? I need proof—real proof—to clear my name. Raymond believes I'm leaking company secrets. It's the only way to prove my innocence and show that Eleanor and Calvin are behind it." There was a pause, then Chloe’s voice hardened with determination. "Consider it done. I'll reach out right away." Relief flooded through Michelle, so intense it left her dizzy. As she ended the call, a flicker of hope sparked amidst the darkness, fragile but fiercely burning. The next morning was a whirlwind of tension and anticipation. Michelle’s heart pounded relentlessly as she watched the forensic
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The glow of the city lights outside the window did little to ease the chill settling in Michelle's bones. She sank into the armchair in the guest room, eyes fixed on her phone screen as if willing it to stay silent. The encounter with Isabelle still clung to her skin, a warning she couldn't shake. Her fingers trembled when the phone finally buzzed. The number was unfamiliar, but a dark intuition twisted in her gut as she swiped to open the message. I know what you did, Michelle. Secrets don’t stay buried forever. We both know that. — A Her breath hitched, blood draining from her face. Alex. It had to be. The words were sharp, each letter a taunt dipped in venom. Michelle’s vision blurred, memories clawing to the surface—the lies, the mistakes, the secrets she’d fought so desperately to forget. The room seemed to close in, the walls too tight, too suffocating. How did he bring it up all of a sudden? After all these years, how much did he know? And worse—what did he plan to do with i
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The conference room buzzed with low murmurs, the city skyline gleaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Michelle forced herself to focus on the blueprints spread before her, tracing the lines of the proposed design with trembling fingers. Across the table, Miranda’s laugh rang out—light and melodic, a siren song that seemed to draw Raymond’s attention effortlessly. It annoyed her more than she wanted to admit. They were supposed to be finalizing the presentation for the upcoming board meeting, but every time Miranda leaned in, brushing her hand against Raymond’s arm or whispering something that coaxed a faint smirk from him, Michelle’s grip tightened around her pen. She hated how much their interaction affected her. “The layout flows well,” Miranda remarked, pointing at a section of the blueprint. “But if we adjust the spacing here, it could maximize the natural lighting.” Her gaze flickered to Raymond, eyes warm and admiring. “What do you think?” Raymond nodded, expression unr
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Michelle sat at the long mahogany dining table, her laptop open before her as she sifted through every financial document she could find in the company records. She had spent hours working with Felix to trace the origins of the false transactions. If Eleanor wanted a fight, Michelle was more than ready to give her one. Her fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard as she compiled her defense, pulling up every records, bank statements, and financial reports she could find. Raymond sat beside her, watching in silence like a good kid who just got treats. She was still mad at him. He had already apologized—twice—but she wasn’t in the mood to listen to his apologies. Felix entered the room, placing a file on the table. "I gathered everything we need to prove your innocence. These are records tracing the embezzled funds back to Eleanor. We can use this. The transactions were made using an alias linked to her offshore accounts." Michelle picked up the file, flipping through the pages. Every
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Raymond sat in his office, staring at the latest headline on his phone. His grip on the device tightened as he read the accusations against Michelle. The evidence was damning—too damning. Someone was orchestrating this with precision. But who? Could it be his mother? Raymond thought to himself. His gut told him Eleanor was behind this and his instinct was never wrong. But there was a nagging thought in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but think—what if Michelle was actually involved? It was irrational, he knew that, but he still didn't know what to believe. She had just saved the company with the international deal. Yet, he had spent years trusting no one, building walls that even Michelle had struggled to breach. His head throbbed. The woman he had fought to protect was now the center of another scandal, and this time, the accusations were even worse. "Sir?" Felix’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. His assistant stood at the door, an urgent expression on his face. "W
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The days following the investigation had been tense, but in the end, the truth prevailed. The forensic team had meticulously combed through the financial records, and after an exhaustive review, it was confirmed that Michelle had been framed, and that she was innocent. The transactions were traced back to a dummy account linked to an offshore entity, and the supposed security footage had been manipulated using advanced AI-generated imagery. Whoever was behind this had gone to extreme lengths to ensure she took the fall and destroyed her reputation, but they had underestimated Raymond’s determination to prove her innocence. When the news broke that Michelle had been cleared of all accusations, a wave of relief washed over her and she felt a little better. But the victory was bittersweet. The damage had already been done—her name had been dragged through the mud, and despite being proven innocent, some people still whispered, still doubted her. The weight of the scandal lingered, but M
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The city lights flickered outside the penthouse, casting long shadows across the bedroom. Michelle sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers tightening around her phone. The chilling words from the anonymous call still echoed in her mind. "You think you’ve won? You have no idea what’s coming." Who had sent that message? What did they mean by that? She had no answers to the questions, only a growing sense of unease. Raymond had been by her side throughout the scandal, unwavering in his support and encouragement but even that didn’t change the fact that the world had turned against her because of the scandal, the only person who has not turned against her was Raymond. And now, there was this—a new, unseen threat lurking in the darkness. A notification pinged again, breaking the silence. Michelle looked down at her phone. An anonymous email had arrived, subject line: "You’ll lose everything soon." Her breath hitched. With hesitant fingers, she opened the message. There was no text, on
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The scandal had reached a fever pitch. Every news outlet, gossip blog, and social media platform was ablaze with the latest accusations against Michelle. The fabricated stories of her alleged multiple affairs had sent the internet into a frenzy, and the comments were ruthless. "She played us all! A gold digger through and through!" "How does Raymond Hawthorne not see it? She’s using him!" "Disgusting. She’s got the face of an angel but the heart of a liar." Michelle sat stiffly on the couch in Raymond’s penthouse, her hands clenched around her phone as she scrolled through the never-ending barrage of hate. Each comment felt like a dagger, chipping away at the fragile sense of control she had left. Hitting her in the chest so hard that it made it difficult for her to breathe properly. She flinched as the news channel on the TV played yet another segment dissecting her supposed infidelity. "The evidence is mounting," a smug anchor declared. "While Michelle Davenport has denied thes
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The tension between Michelle and Raymond lingered in the air like an unspoken challenge. Though he had chosen to believe her, the weight of doubt still hung in his gaze and Michelle could see it. The scandal had placed them on shaky ground, almost ruining their marriage, but something else was shifting beneath the surface—an understanding, a newfound unity between them forged by adversity. Raymond had always been guarded, his emotions locked away behind a wall of discipline and control. But as they sat in the dimly lit penthouse that evening, going over every possible angle of the scandal, Michelle noticed a change. He was listening, really listening. Not just questioning her or doubting every word she said, not just assuming the worst—he was trying to understand her perspective. "I had my team run an analysis on those pictures," Raymond said, his voice steady but thoughtful. "They’ve been altered, as you claimed. The original versions were photoshopped to create a narrative that do
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The morning air was crisp, but the heat from the media storm brewing around Michelle was suffocating. The internet was ablaze with scandalous headlines, all pointing fingers at her. "Michelle Davenport Caught in Cheating Scandal!" "Raymond Hawthorne’s wife Exposed in Secret Affair!" She stood in front of the television in the penthouse, her face pale as news anchors analyze every fabricated detail. Pictures— misleading—flashed across the screen, showing her in what appeared to be intimate moments with a man she barely recognized. A man who, upon closer inspection, had been strategically placed in her presence at charity events and galas over the past year. It was a carefully orchestrated illusion designed to destroy her. The pictures were obviously photoshopped. She didn't even know the man they claimed she had an affair with. Her hands trembled as she grabbed her phone. Dozens of missed calls and texts bombarded her screen. Friends, colleagues, and even distant acquaintances all
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Millie sat alone in the shadowed corner of an upscale but discreet lounge, her eyes glittering with a venom that had been slowly building over the past few days, she was becoming really impatient. The lights were low and the murmur of conversation around her barely registered as she tapped her fingers impatiently on the polished mahogany table. Today was the day she would make her next move—a move that would shake Michelle’s world to its very core. Earlier that day, she had arranged a secret meeting with someone she knew would understand her frustration. Someone who had dealt with Michelle before and knows how to handle her. It wasn’t long before the door to the private back room opened, and Alex Westwood walked in. His dark eyes held a mix of weariness and ruthless determination—a far cry from the smug smile he had worn during previous encounters. The same Alex who had warned Michelle with icy words that “some secrets should stay buried.” “Millie,” he greeted curtly, taking a seat
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The atmosphere at Hawthorne Enterprises had grown tense over the past few days. The investor’s unexpected withdrawal had sent shockwaves through the board and made everyone uneasy, whispers of financial instability swirled like autumn leaves in a storm. In the midst of all this chaos, Raymond and Michelle found themselves pushed into an alliance—one born of desperation and a shared determination to protect what they had built. Raymond paced in his glass-walled office, the city skyline a distant reminder of everything at stake. His jaw was set, his mind racing with strategies to counter the attack. Every number on his spreadsheets, every memo, seemed to remind him that Eleanor’s machinations were driving the company toward ruin. Yet, in the midst of it all, he couldn’t ignore Michelle’s steady presence. Despite the coldness and doubt that had crept between them, he now saw her in a different way, in her the spark of a brilliant strategist—someone whose instincts and intellect could sa
