Ava’s POV

The first thing I felt was the pounding in my head. A brutal, relentless throb that made me wince as I opened my eyes to the faint morning light filtering through the curtains. My body ached in places I didn’t even know could ache. My throat was parched, my limbs heavy as though I had run a marathon.

I groaned and turned, expecting the other side of the bed to be warm, but it was cold and empty. My hand brushed against the sheets, a sharp contrast to the heat that still clung to my body. Alone. My stomach sank.

And then I saw it.

My bra, torn and crumpled on the floor. My dress—a shredded mess—was draped halfway across the armchair. A pair of unfamiliar cufflinks glittered under the dim light on the bedside table.

The memories of last night hit me like a thunderbolt.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, bolting upright. The motion made my head spin, and I clutched it, trying to steady myself. My heart thundered as I sat there, staring at the wreckage of my night.

“What have I done?” My voice cracked. The question echoed around the room as I scrambled off the bed. My legs wobbled beneath me, and I had to clutch the edge of the nightstand to keep from toppling over. The cool air against my bare skin made me shiver.

Who did I sleep with?

I glanced around the room like a woman possessed. The sheets on the bed were rumpled, my body still carried the scent of another person, but there was no sign of him—no stranger in the shadows, no note, no goodbye.

“Orion…” The name escaped my lips before I could stop it. My heart clenched painfully. Could it have been him? Did he come back last night? If it was him, why didn’t he stay? Why leave without a word?

I stumbled toward the table and grabbed the bottle of water. The cool liquid soothed my throat but did nothing to calm the storm raging in my chest. I slammed the bottle down and resumed searching for my phone. I needed answers.

My movements were frantic, my breath shallow as I rifled through drawers and overturned pillows. The headache intensified, but I ignored it.

Finally, I yanked open the bedside drawer and found it—my phone. It was switched off.

“What the hell?” I muttered. I couldn’t remember turning it off. My thumb hovered over the power button as dread coiled in my stomach.

As the screen lit up, my phone buzzed aggressively. Missed calls. Voicemails. Most of them from Rose.

Before I could open them, her name flashed across the screen. I hesitated for a split second before answering.

“Ava!” Her voice was sharp, panicked. “What’s going on? Are you okay? I’ve been trying to reach you all morning!”

I clutched my head, her words cutting through the pounding in my skull. “I… I passed out,” I stammered. “Guess I had too much to drink.”

Rose didn’t wait for me to finish. “Okay, Ava. Listen to me. Something happened. There’s a huge problem.”

My stomach twisted painfully. “What problem? Is the company on fire? Was the breach not resolved?”

“It’s not the breach,” Rose said, her voice wavering. “It’s… it’s you.”

My heart stopped. “Me?”

“There’s a scandal. About you,” she said hurriedly. “The tabloids, Ava… they’re saying you’ve been… sleeping with our clients to secure deals.”

“What?” My voice cracked. “That’s ridiculous! Who would believe—”

“There’s more,” she interrupted. “There’s a video circulating. It claims you were with someone last night in California.”

My legs gave out, and I sank onto the bed, clutching the phone like a lifeline. “No. No, this can’t be happening.”

“It’s everywhere, Ava,” Rose continued. “News stations are calling for interviews. One of our biggest deals—gone. They pulled out because of this.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. My mind raced, piecing together fragments of last night. The stranger in the elevator. Was he the one? Did he follow me?.

“Ava?” Rose called, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Are you listening? Our team is working to get to the bottom of this, but for now, just stay put. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t—”

A voice called her name in the background, and the line went dead.

“Rose? Rose!” I yelled, but the call had already ended.

The silence that followed was deafening. My breaths came in sharp gasps as I stared at my phone. How did they know? How could they possibly know about last night?

I clenched the phone in my hand, and one name flashed through my mind. Orion.

He had everything to gain from my downfall. The company. The clients. The power. Was this his doing?

I dialed his number, my hands trembling. It went straight to voicemail.

“Orion!” I snapped. “Pick up your damn phone!”

I tried again. And again. Nothing. My frustration boiled over, and I left a string of messages.

“You better have a good explanation for this, Orion. If this is your doing, I swear to God—” I cut myself off, my voice breaking.

Desperate for answers, I opened social media. My heart sank further as I scrolled through the countless headlines.

“CEO Scandal: Mrs Miller’s Secret Tactics Exposed” “Caught on Camera: Mrs Miller’s Night of Passion” “Is This How She Seals Deals?”

My hands shook as I clicked on one of the links. There it was—a blurry picture under the headline. My face wasn’t really visible, but the elevator in the background was unmistakable.

“That’s this hotel,” I whispered.

Images of last night flooded back. The stranger in the elevator. His piercing gaze. The way he offered to help me to my room.

I felt bile rise in my throat. My legs carried me to the bathroom, where I collapsed to my knees, retching into the toilet. Tears streamed down my face as I gripped the edge of the sink, the enormity of the situation crashing down on me.

Someone had set me up.

I wiped my mouth and stumbled to the floor, my body shaking with anger and fear. Is this why Orion didn’t come back last night? Because he set me up for this? His betrayal felt like a knife in my chest. Was he really behind this?

The phone buzzed again, and I glanced at the screen. Mason.

A lump formed in my throat. Did he believe the rumors too? Did he think I was that kind of woman?

I let the call go to voicemail, ashamed and unable to face him.

Curling into myself, I buried my face in my hands. The guilt, the disgust, the humiliation—it was suffocating.

Yes, I had slept with a stranger. But I was drunk—or worse. My drink had been spiked.

Dragging myself closer to the bathtub, I turned on the shower. The scalding water burned my skin, but I welcomed the pain. I scrubbed myself until my skin turned red, as if I could wash away the shame.

When the shower wasn’t enough, I filled the tub and submerged myself, letting the water cover me completely. My body floated, weightless, as I stared at the ceiling.

Maybe this was the only way to cleanse myself. To erase last night.