It’s morning and for one perfect moment, wrapped in Carter’s arms, everything feels right.
Then, my phone buzzes on the nightstand.
Once. Twice. Three times in rapid succession.
Carter stirs beside me, his hand tightening on my waist. “Ignore it,” he mumbles against my shoulder.
“I can’t.” I reach for the phone, squinting at the screen. Twenty-three missed calls. Forty-seven text messages. And they’re still coming in.
My stomach drops.
“Carter.” I sit up, pulling the sheet with me. “Something’s wrong.”
He’s awake instantly, reading the concern in my voice. “What is it?”
I open the first text. It’s from my assistant:CALL ME NOW. URGENT.
The second is from Ralph:Olivia, we have a situation. Do NOT speak to anyone until you talk to me.
The third is from Mark:My office. 8 AM. Don’t be late.
“Shit.” My hands start shaking. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Carter takes the phone from me, scanning the messages. His jaw tightens. “What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know.” I’m already out of bed, looking for my clothes. “But it’s bad. Really bad.”
My phone rings. Mark’s name flashes on the screen.
Carter and I lock eyes. He nods once, and I answer.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?” Mark’s voice is ice cold.
“I’m—” I glance at Carter. “I’m getting ready to come in.”
“Are you with Storm?”
The question hangs in the air like a blade. I could lie. Should lie. But what’s the point?
“Yes.”
A long pause. Then: “I want both of you in my office in one hour. Not a minute later.”
The line goes dead.
I stare at the phone, heart hammering. “He knows.”
“Security cameras?” Carter’s already pulling on his jeans.
“Probably, but—” I stop as my phone buzzes again. This time it’s a link from my assistant with a single word:Sorry.
I click it.
The screen loads, and my entire world tilts.
It’s a gossip site.Sports Insider. And the headline makes my blood run cold:
