Undressed By His Arrogance

The phone kept vibrating in her hand. She looked at the caller ID and rolled her eyes.

Of course. One of her old clients.

Sharona swiped to pick up.

"What?" she snapped.

"Sharona?!" the woman shrieked so loudly Sharona had to yank the phone away from her ear. "HAVE YOU SEEN THE NEWS?! How the hell could you be so careless?!"

"What are you talking about, Dahlia?"

"What news?" Sharona snapped, pacing as Dahlia’s panic screeched through the line.

"Just check your damn phone. And for the record," Dahlia hissed, suddenly cold and venomous, "I had NOTHING to do with you. I’ve never met you. Never seen you."

The call cut off abruptly.

Sharona unlocked her phone with trembling fingers.

A link sat at the top of her messages. She already knew she wouldn’t like what waited on the other side, but she clicked anyway.

A loading circle spun... and then her world split open.

Her breath stopped.

Every image Winn had used against her in the divorce. Every hotel receipt. Every conversation transcript. Every timestamped photo of her in beds she shouldn’t have been in.

It was everywhere.

Headlines screamed up at her:

"SOCIALITE SHARONA KANE EXPOSED IN STRING OF DIVORCE CHEATING SCANDAL."

"WIFE OF HOUSE OF KANE TYCOON CAUGHT. DIVORCE DOCUMENTS LEAK."

"No. No. No. No!" she gasped, each "no" climbing in pitch until it broke into a strangled sound.

Sharona tore herself upright, adrenaline jolting her muscles into motion. She snatched a robe from the end of the bed and wrapped it around herself, tying the sash.

A sudden, violent banging rattled the front door.

"Mrs. Sharona Kane! NYPD! Open up!"

Her blood turned to ice. A chill ran from her spine down to the backs of her knees.

Then fury surged—hot, vicious, blinding.

"Ivy!" she spat. "You bitch!"

Her trembling hands fumbled with her phone as she scrolled for her lawyer’s number. She clicked it and lifted it to her ear, pacing.

"I need you now!" she hissed as soon as he picked up. "The police are here. I don’t know what they think they have—SOME BULLSHIT—I’m not saying a word until you get here. Yes, I won’t say anything stupid. I’m not an idiot!"

Another round of pounding came at the door, louder this time.

"Mrs. Kane! This is your final warning!"

She tossed her phone on the couch, inhaled sharply, squared her shoulders, and marched toward the door.

When she yanked the door open, two detectives stood in the hallway.

The younger detective flashed a badge.

"How can I help you gentlemen?" Sharona asked.

The older detective stepped forward. "Mrs. Sharona Kane," he said in a flat voice, "you are under arrest for fraud."

Before she could process the words, the younger detective moved behind her. Cold metal circled her wrists, the click of the handcuffs echoing. Her mind was spiraling too fast.

As they read her her rights, Sharona’s mind wasn’t on the police.

It was on them.

The people she’d worked for.

The clients who didn’t forgive mistakes.

They wouldn’t risk being exposed.

Her throat tightened.

They would erase her. Quickly. Quietly. Permanently.

She kept her face neutral as the detectives guided her out.

Only one thought beat like a drum behind her ribs:

Ivy is a dead woman.

*****

Sharona’s arrest came as news to Ivy.

It was bad. No—it was catastrophic.

Sharona carried the Kane name. The Kane name was attached to Everest through the billion-dollar joint venture.

Whatever hurt Kane, hurt Everest.

And Winn—Winn—had used the information she gave him.

She’d trusted him with it. Given it to him to protect himself.

By the time Ivy arrived at House of Kane, her anger was a living beast in her veins—hot, coiled, and vicious.

Inside the lobby, staff paused mid-task. Heads turned. Whispers fluttered.

Everyone knew.

Everyone had seen the news.

And Ivy?

Her temper could have heated a pot of water to boiling point.

Lydia didn’t bother stepping in front of her as Ivy crossed the floor.

She twisted the door open to Winn’s office without hesitation, throwing it ajar. Inside, Winn was on the phone, leaning slightly over the edge of his desk. All she saw was the man who had just, in her eyes, undone weeks of careful planning in one reckless move.

"Are you crazy? Are you mad? Is something fundamentally wrong with you?" Ivy demanded. "Do you have any idea what you just did? Leaked the information to the press? Do you even understand what that would do to us? To Everest?"

Winn straightened, slowly lowering the receiver. "I’ll call you back," he said coolly into the phone, and with a click, ended the call. He turned fully to face her, his calm aura colliding with her storm.

"What is wrong with you? Why can’t you just be happy with a little win?" Ivy continued. "Was it not enough to get the divorce finalized? Wasn’t that victory enough?"

"Ivy?" Winn finally spoke. He noticed immediately that her cast was gone; her arm moved freely.

"Is this how you have run your business all these years," Ivy asked, "or is this because this is personal? I gave you that information to help with your divorce, not because I wanted it plastered across every news outlet in Manhattan!"

"Ivy?" His sharp gaze followed her every movement, noting the flare of her nostrils, the set of her jaw, the way her fingers curled in barely controlled frustration at her sides.

"My uncle entrusted this project to me!" Ivy barked, taking a step forward. "My first ever project to prove myself, to demonstrate my skills, to show that I am more than capable—and here you are, burning it all in flames!"

Winn had reached the end of his patience. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her effortlessly against him, grounding both of them in a breathless standoff. "Shh," he murmured, his lips brushing dangerously close to her ear.

"Don’t shush me," Ivy spat. Her fury burned as brightly as the emotions swirling in the space between them. Every muscle in her body was taut, ready to explode.