The CEO Above My Desk Chapter 158

***Violet***

Most of the emails are exactly what we expected at first. Corporate. Cold. Carefully written.

Avery updating Hargrove on everything happening inside Ashcroft Industries like she was some kind of inside informant reporting back to headquarters.

Meeting schedules. Private dinners. Guest lists.

Which developers Rowan approved. Which contracts were delayed. Which city officials attended events. Which investors Rowan trusted. Which infrastructure projects he personally reviewed himself.

Every single thing Rowan touched somehow found its way into Hargrove’s inbox. And the deeper Camille and I go into the emails, the more sick I feel. Because Avery wasn’t just watching Rowan. She was tracking him. Documenting him. Building a profile around him piece by piece over two years.

“This is insane,” Camille whispers beside me as she scrolls through another email chain. “She literally updated Hargrove on his entire life.”

“Not just his life,” I murmur quietly. “His company too. His projects. His contracts. The city.”

I open another attachment. Environmental housing proposals. Homeless rehabilitation programs. Community redevelopment plans.

My stomach twists painfully. Because Rowan never talked about any of this. Not really. But here it all is. Proof. Millions of dollars poured into trying to improve this city quietly behind the scenes while people painted him like some corporate monster.

“He really was trying to help people,” I whisper.

Camille looks over at me softly. “Yeah.”

I keep scrolling. Then suddenly... I stop. Completely still.

My heart starts pounding harder instantly.

“What?” Camille asks immediately.

I don’t answer right away because my eyes are locked onto the subject line of one specific email.

**RE: Continuation Concerns**

“That sounds weird,” Camille mutters.

“It is weird.”

I click it open slowly. And the second I start reading.... Everything changes.

Because for the first time since we opened these emails, Avery doesn’t sound polished anymore.

She sounds scared. Guilty. Human.

My eyes scan across the message slowly while my chest tightens harder with every line.

*I don’t think I can keep doing this.*

*Rowan Ashcroft is not the man you think he is.*

*He’s trying to help this city.*

*The environmental housing structures he’s planning for the homeless population are legitimate. The September employment initiative is legitimate.*

*He’s investing millions into rehabilitation and infrastructure restoration.*

*He’s not destroying this city.*

*He’s trying to save it.*

Silence fills the entire penthouse around us. Even the yelling upstairs suddenly feels distant.

Camille stares at the screen beside me. “Oh my God.”

I reread the email again slowly. Because this doesn’t sound like manipulation. This sounds like someone panicking after realizing they backed the wrong side.

“She wanted out,” I whisper.

Camille nods faintly. “Yeah.”

My throat tightens painfully. Because suddenly I can see it. Avery got close to Rowan. Worked beside him. Watched him every single day.

And somewhere along the line... She realized he was actually a good man. A terrifying asshole sometimes, sure. Controlling. Cold. Brutal when necessary. But good.

The kind of man trying to save a city while everyone else fed off of it.

I scroll downward slowly toward Hargrove’s response. Then my stomach drops.

Attached beneath the email. Photos. Dozens of them.

“What the fuck…” Camille whispers.

I click the first one open. And immediately regret it.

Avery and Theo. Outside some expensive hotel downtown. Theo’s hand at her lower back while she smiles up at him. The next photo is worse. Theo kissing her neck beside a car while she grips his jacket.

Camille goes completely still beside me. “No,” she whispers.

I keep scrolling. More photos. More angles. More moments clearly taken from a distance. Like someone had been following them. Watching them.

Then another image loads and my chest tightens harder. Devin. Avery sitting across from him at dinner. The next one shows him touching her wrist while she leans closer. Another shows them leaving together late at night.

“What the fuck is this?” I whisper. My voice barely sounds like mine anymore.

Camille suddenly jerks away from me like she’s been burned. “No,” she says again, louder this time. “No, no, no—”

“Camille—”

“She was with Theo?” Her voice cracks completely.

Then she sees the next photo.

Devin pulling Avery into a car and something inside Camille breaks.

Tears instantly flood her eyes. “Oh my God,” she chokes out.

Before I can stop her, she stands abruptly from the couch so fast the tablet almost slips from my lap.

“Camille!”

She’s already shaking her head violently. “I can’t— I can’t fucking do this right now—”

Then she runs. Straight toward the bathroom. The door slams so hard it echoes through the penthouse.

A second later... I hear her throwing up.

My stomach twists violently. “Fuck…”

I set the tablet down shakily before standing halfway, torn between going after her and continuing to look at the screen in front of me.

But then another image catches my eye and suddenly I can’t move at all. Marcus. Detective Marcus. His hand wrapped around Avery’s face while kissing her against a brick wall outside a bar. The next photo shows them entering a hotel together.

I stare at the screen in disbelief. “What the hell is happening…” My voice comes out hollow now.

Because this doesn’t make sense anymore. Theo. Devin. Marcus. Every single person somehow tied together through Avery.

My pulse pounds harder as I scroll lower. Then suddenly... I stop breathing entirely.

Calder.

Avery standing beside Calder while his hand grips the back of her neck hard enough to look painful.

She doesn’t look happy. She looks terrified. Controlled. Owned.

“Oh my God…” My hands start shaking again.

Not fear anymore. Rage. Pure rage.

Then my eyes drift lower. Toward the watermark beneath the image. And suddenly everything inside me goes cold.

*Drew Pierce Photography.*

I blink once. Twice.

No.

*No fucking way.*

I grab the tablet tighter, zooming in shakily while my heartbeat thunders in my ears.

Metadata sits attached beneath the photo files. Payment authorization approved by Councilwoman Evelyn Hargrove.

My stomach drops so hard I feel nauseous.

Drew took these. Drew was working for Hargrove.

The entire room suddenly feels suffocating.

Because Drew wasn’t just around accidentally. He was watching people. Photographing people. Collecting leverage. Building blackmail.

From the bathroom, I hear Camille crying quietly between bouts of getting sick, but all I can do is stare at the screen.

At Drew’s name sitting beneath the photographs like a signature carved into a gravestone.

Drew was connected to all of this.

That’s why he died.

My mind starts replaying everything all at once.

Drew acting nervous. Drew wanting to talk. Drew looking over his shoulder constantly.

And then... Dead.

My chest tightens painfully. “Calder killed him,” I whisper. The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.

Because I know it. I know it down to my bones now.

Calder killed Drew. Not because Drew was some random victim. Not because it was meaningless violence.

Because Drew knew too much.