The CEO Above My Desk Chapter 159

***Violet***

Camille doesn’t come out of the bathroom for almost ten minutes.

At first, I try to give her space.

After everything we just saw, she deserves that much.

But the longer the silence stretches, the more the anger burning inside me starts shifting into something else. Worry. Guilt. Fear.

Because this entire situation feels like it’s poisoning everyone around us one person at a time.

I slowly close the tablet and stand from the couch, my legs feeling oddly weak beneath me as I walk toward the bathroom door.

The penthouse feels different now. Too quiet downstairs. Too loud upstairs.

The muffled yelling from the loft still echoes faintly through the ceilings while Rowan, Theo, and Devin continue trying to contain the fallout from the explosion. Every now and then another sharp voice cuts through the glass upstairs, followed by pacing footsteps or something slamming onto the conference table hard enough to vibrate through the floor.

Meanwhile down here? Everything feels broken.

I stop outside the bathroom door and knock softly. “Camille?”

Silence.

For a second, I think maybe she’s crying too hard to answer.

Then finally... “I’m alive,” she mutters weakly from inside.

I exhale quietly, resting my forehead briefly against the doorframe. “Can I come in?”

Another pause. Then the lock clicks open. I push the door open carefully and my chest tightens immediately.

She looks wrecked.

Mascara smeared beneath her eyes. Pale skin flushed red from crying and getting sick. Her blonde hair is messy now, falling around her face while she sits curled slightly forward on the edge of the bathtub wrapped in one of Rowan’s ridiculously soft white towels.

She looks small. Not physically. Emotionally.

Like somebody reached inside her chest tonight and twisted everything apart.

And honestly? I hate Avery a little for this. Not because of Theo. Not even because of the photos.

But because somehow this entire nightmare keeps hurting people I care about over and over again.

Camille looks up at me tiredly. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“That’s honestly worse somehow.”

Despite everything, a tiny smile pulls at my mouth. I walk further inside before sitting beside her carefully on the edge of the tub.

For a moment, neither of us says anything. The bathroom is warm from the shower steam still clinging to the mirrors, but Camille’s hands are freezing when I gently take one.

She laughs softly after a second. Broken. Exhausted.

“You know,” she mutters, staring down at the tile floor, “if someone told me a month ago I’d be sitting in a billionaire penthouse bathroom crying over espionage blackmail photos.

“If these photos go public…” I hesitate. “Are you okay with that?”

Her expression crumples slightly. Because she knows exactly what I mean. Theo. Devin.

Their reputations. Their careers. Their humiliation.

She looks away slowly toward the marble counter beside the sink.

“I don’t know,” she admits honestly.

And honestly? Fair. I don’t push her. I just sit beside her quietly while she thinks.

The muffled yelling upstairs continues faintly through the ceiling. Rowan. Theo. Devin. Still trying to contain the visible fire while Camille and I just uncovered the one burning underneath the city itself.

Finally, Camille rubs her face tiredly. “I’m not even mad he slept with her,” she whispers.

That surprises me enough that I look at her fully.

“I’m mad he didn’t tell me.”

Oh.... Oh that hurts worse. Because she trusted him. And now every secret feels infected.

She exhales shakily before continuing. “And now I’m sitting here pregnant with his baby while finding out there are secret pictures of him wrapped around another woman.”

My chest tightens instantly. “Camille—”

“I know they’re old,” she says quickly, wiping at her eyes again. “I know they were before me because his hair is longer. I know all of that logically.” Her voice cracks. “But emotions aren’t logical, Violet.”

No. They really aren’t. She laughs weakly through another wave of tears.

“I literally bullied that man into getting a haircut on our first date because he looked like an emotionally damaged Viking metal guitarist.”

Despite everything, I snort softly.

“He complained the entire appointment,” she mutters. “Said I was ruining his image.”

“That sounds exactly like Theo.”

“He sulked for hours afterward.”

A small smile briefly pulls at her lips before fading again almost instantly.

“It was before us,” she whispers quietly, like she’s trying to convince herself all over again.

I nod slowly. But I can still see the hurt sitting inside her. Because the problem isn’t Avery. It’s the secrets.

She exhales shakily before continuing.

“But if those photos leak…” Her voice cracks slightly. “It destroys Theo’s reputation. And Devin’s too.”

I nod slowly.

Because she’s right.

Theo works beside Rowan publicly. Devin’s legal career could take a massive hit from implications alone. Especially right now with the city already circling Ashcroft Industries like sharks smelling blood in the water.

Camille stares down at our joined hands quietly for another long moment.

Then something changes in her face. The sadness hardens. The grief sharpens into anger.

“But…” she says quietly.

I wait.

“If this helps destroy Hargrove…” Her jaw tightens. “Then maybe it’s worth it.”

The rage inside me burns hotter instantly. Not because I want to hurt Theo. Or Devin. Or even Avery anymore. But because Hargrove built this.

Every piece of it. The blackmail. The manipulation. The surveillance. The fear.

She built this disgusting machine and now everyone around us is bleeding because of it.

I stand abruptly.

Camille looks up immediately. “What?”

I stare toward the hallway outside the bathroom. Toward the loft upstairs. Toward Rowan’s shadow moving behind the glass walls while he tears apart another executive over the phone.

Then I look back at her. “What if we go see Leah Frank?”

Camille freezes completely.

Then very slowly... Understanding spreads across her face.

“Oh…”

Yeah.

Oh.

Not the police. Not the mayor. Not the feds. The press. Public pressure. Public exposure. Public destruction.

Camille stands immediately despite still looking exhausted. “You’re serious.”

“I’m done playing nice.”

Her eyes search mine carefully. Then she nods once. Sharp. Resolved. “Okay.”

No hesitation anymore. No uncertainty. Just anger.

I walk back into the living room while Camille washes her face and fixes her makeup enough to look functional again.

Meanwhile, I go to work. Downloading everything.

Every email. Every attachment. Every photo. Metadata. Access logs. Phone records. Payment authorizations.

I transfer everything onto an encrypted USB drive that I made sure was empty from Rowan's bedroom on his nightstand. I'm sure he can get another one without a fuss.

Camille walks back out a few minutes later looking steadier. Still pale. Still hurting. But steadier.

“You ready?” she asks quietly.

No. Not even close.

But I nod anyway. I grab my jacket first. Then the flash drive. Then finally Theo’s keys hanging near the kitchen counter.

The little black 4Runner he drives when he doesn’t want attention.

My fingers tighten around the keys as I glance upward toward the loft one last time. Toward Rowan. I already know he’s going to lose his fucking mind when he realizes I’m gone.

Especially after tonight. Especially after the explosion. Especially after he admitted he was scared.

But right now?

I’m not scared... I'm pissed off and I'm doing something about it.