One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 54: Chapter 54

The gilded conference room inside Saint Lavinia Academy’s east wing looked more like the set of a royal inquisition than a school PTA meeting. Crystal chandeliers gleamed above a long mahogany table, where expensive pens clicked in perfectly synchronized disdain.
Arielle sat at the end, her spine straight, a calm smile fixed on her face like armor.
“Welcome,” said Regina Holloway, the PTA chairwoman. Her voice was sweetened arsenic. “We’re delighted you could join us today, Mrs. Lancaster.”
Arielle noted the slight pause before her name—the deliberate delay, as if the woman were tasting something sour.
“I’m honored,” Arielle replied, lacing her fingers and resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
Regina was tall, blonde, razor-thin, and wore a Chanel suit like it was stitched from judgment itself. She had reigned over the elite school's social scene for nearly a decade. Her daughter, Clarisse, was Liana’s classmate—and rival.
“Of course, we’ve all seen your... husband,” Regina added with a tight smile. “Quite the sensation lately. How interesting to see a CEO in such domestic glory.”
Several of the women chuckled.
Arielle’s smile didn’t waver. “He’s good with his hands. Very precise.”
That shut them up—for a beat.
The meeting dragged. Topics ranged from fundraising galas to which imported orchids should decorate the spring recital. Every suggestion Arielle made was countered. Every point she raised was brushed aside.
“I think we should prioritize a scholarship fund for children of staff,” Arielle said at one point. “It aligns with the academy’s ethos of legacy and opportunity.”
Regina clucked her tongue. “That’s sweet, dear. But this is the Parent Association. Not a social charity.”
Someone coughed to cover a snort.
Arielle didn’t rise to it. Instead, she jotted notes, circled budgets, and mentally compiled a list of allies—and enemies.
She didn’t survive public scandal, viral breakdowns, or saboteurs to be undone by a PTA queen bee.
Outside after the meeting, Liana ran to hug her mother, while Clarisse stood nearby, smirking.
“My mommy says your mommy is ‘middle class with frosting.’”
Liana blinked. “My mommy says your mommy needs a hobby.”
Arielle smiled as she held her daughter’s hand and walked past Regina without another word.
But the war had started.
The next week, Arielle returned—prepared.
She brought fresh pastries to the meeting. Nothing bought. Nothing flashy.
Just cinnamon knot rolls made from scratch.
The room reacted like wolves to blood.
Even Regina took one—reluctantly. And within ten minutes, several of the other women had slid closer, asking for the recipe.
Arielle smiled and handed out little printed cards.
Regina’s smile stiffened.
In the days that followed, rumors swirled. Regina’s gala seating chart was leaked. A few PTA members began attending Whisk & Flame after school drop-off.
One morning, Arielle found a bouquet of gardenias on her car hood with a note:
> "You're not just frosting anymore." — A Friend.
Damien, ever amused, read the emails from parents congratulating her on "modernizing the association."
“You’re infiltrating,” he teased. “Slow-baking a coup.”
“I’m building bridges,” she said, draping her arms around his neck. “I just happen to have matches in my pocket.”
Regina upped her game. She booked a luxury resort for the next fundraising committee retreat—exclusive invite only.
Arielle? Not on the list.
Until one afternoon, the principal herself called Arielle directly.
“Mrs. Lancaster, we’d be honored to have you represent the academy at the regional parent leadership summit. You’ve been nominated... unanimously.”
The line went quiet.
Arielle blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“Unanimously,” the principal repeated.
When Arielle hung up, she looked at Damien and said, “They want me to lead them.”
He smirked. “You always end up leading.”
She exhaled slowly.
The war had begun with sugar-coated insults.
But Arielle? She was already planning the banquet.