The CEO Above My Desk Chapter 157

***Violet***

My hands are shaking. Not enough to stop me from clicking the emails. But enough that I notice it.

Enough that Camille notices too. “You okay?” she asks quietly beside me.

No. Not even a little. But I nod anyway and open the first email thread between Avery and Judge Fredrick Mews.

At first glance? It looks boring. Professional. Administrative. Almost painfully normal.

Subject lines about scheduling. Project updates. Development reviews. Meeting requests.

I stare at the screen for a long second before narrowing my eyes. “No,” I murmur.

Camille blinks beside me. “What?”

“This is coded.”

“What do you mean coded?”

I scroll upward slowly, rereading one section again. Not because the wording is suspicious. Because the wording is too careful. Too vague. Like people trying very hard not to directly say what they mean.

I tap the screen lightly. “Look at this.”

Camille scoots closer.

The email reads:

*Development concerns regarding east district approvals. Ashcroft remains resistant to accelerated implementation. Alternative pressure may be necessary before contract finalization.*

Camille stares blankly at it for a second. “…Okay?”

I look at her. “They’re talking about Rowan.”

Her brows immediately pull together. “How do you know that?”

“Because Ashcroft Industries controls east district redevelopment.”

I point toward another attachment linked beneath the message. “Look. Infrastructure expansion. Parking structures. Utility modernization. Commercial redevelopment.”

Camille’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

I keep scrolling. Another email. Another carefully worded message.

*Judge availability remains favorable should municipal resistance escalate.*

Camille frowns. “What the hell does that mean?”

I exhale slowly, trying to piece it together out loud. “It means…” I pause. “Okay. Think of it like this.”

I shift toward her slightly, tablet balanced between us. “Rowan owns a huge chunk of development contracts in the city. Parking structures, commercial buildings, utilities, expansion projects… all of it.”

She nods slowly. “Okay.”

“And Hargrove works for the city.”

Another nod.

“So if the city wants certain projects approved, certain land rezoned, certain companies selected…” I point at the screen again, “they need Rowan cooperating.”

Camille’s expression slowly changes. “Oh my God.”

“Exactly.”

I scroll to another email. This one worse.

*Ashcroft continues refusing external oversight recommendations. Pressure through regulatory channels may encourage compliance.*

Camille stares. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“It means they were trying to corner him legally.”

I feel sick saying it out loud. Because now that I’m seeing it... I can’t unsee it.

“They were building pressure around him,” I continue quietly. “City regulations. Courts. Political influence. They wanted control over his company.”

“And he said no.”

“Yes.”

Camille leans back slowly against the couch cushions. “So Hargrove was trying to force him into something.”

I nod once. “And the judge was helping.”

My chest tightens harder. Because now the pieces are starting to fit together in ways I really wish they weren’t. I open another email. This one mentions contract disputes. Another mentions permit delays.

Another references “*targeted financial vulnerability.”*

“What does that mean?” Camille asks.

I laugh once under my breath. Not because it’s funny. Because it’s insane.

“It means they were trying to weaken him.”

She blinks. “Financially?”

“Publicly. Politically. Legally. Probably financially too.”

My stomach twists harder the longer I read. This wasn’t random corruption. This was coordinated. Carefully coordinated.

The city. The courts. The police. Everyone moving together slowly around Rowan like they were tightening a noose.

Camille suddenly sits upright. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

“She was feeding them information.”

I stare at her. Then slowly nod. “Yes.”

Everything suddenly clicks into place all at once. The late-night access logs. The schedules. The phone records.

Avery wasn’t just spying randomly. She was reporting. Tracking Rowan’s meetings. Monitoring contracts. Watching negotiations. Possibly even learning security vulnerabilities tied to Ashcroft developments.

“She *was* planted there,” Camille whispers.

“Yes.”

“And Rowan had no idea.”

That part hurts more than it should. Because Rowan notices everything. Everything. And somehow this woman sat beside him for two years feeding information to people actively trying to destroy him.

I scroll further. Then stop. My blood runs cold instantly.

“What?” Camille asks sharply.

I don’t answer right away. I just slowly turn the screen toward her.

One sentence. One horrible sentence.

*Ashcroft has become emotionally compromised. The girl appears to be affecting decision-making consistency.*

Camille’s jaw drops. “Oh, that is fucking creepy.”

My heart is pounding now. Hard. Because they noticed me. Before I even realized Rowan cared about me... They noticed.

I suddenly feel sick. Like someone’s been watching me this entire time without me knowing.

Camille grabs the tablet again, scrolling faster now. “There’s more,” she mutters.

There always is. I rub my hands over my face slowly, trying to breathe through the anger building in my chest.

Because suddenly I understand why Rowan is the way he is. Why he trusts almost nobody. Why control matters so much to him.

This wasn’t just business politics. This was a machine. A giant corrupt machine built around controlling the city.

And Rowan? Rowan was the obstacle standing in the middle of it.

My eyes drift toward the loft upstairs where muffled yelling still echoes faintly through the penthouse.

He has no idea. Or maybe he does. Maybe somewhere deep down he always knew people were circling him. But I don’t think even he realizes how far this actually goes.

Camille slowly lowers the tablet into her lap. “So…” she says quietly. “What do we do now?”

I stare at the emails again. At the careful wording. At the years of manipulation hidden beneath professional language. At my husband unknowingly being watched from inside his own company. And something inside me finally snaps completely. Because they don’t get to do this to him. Not anymore.

“They wanted a war,” I say quietly.

Camille looks at me carefully.

I slowly close the email thread. Then look back up at her.

“Now they’re going to get one.”

I look back at Avery’s inbox.

Five thousand emails.

Five thousand opportunities for someone to make a mistake.

Nobody is careful forever.

Nobody.

Especially people who think they’re untouchable.

“We need a smoking gun,” I murmur.

Camille nods immediately. “Something undeniable.”

“Something public.”

Because that’s the difference now.

At this point, I don’t care about quiet justice. I care about destruction. Public destruction.

I shift closer beside her and reopen the inbox between Avery and Hargrove.

Five thousand, three hundred and twelve emails.

"Help me find something we can use to destroy them. There has to be something in these emails."