One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 82: Chapter 82

The next morning, the news broke across every major business outlet: Arielle Blackwell Named Interim CEO of Haven Corporation.
Some praised the bold move. Others scoffed, calling it a publicity stunt. Social media exploded with polarized reactions—some branding her a lioness, others painting her as a grieving widow clinging to power.
Inside the boardroom, the silence of admiration had vanished. The predators had tasted blood.
Whitaker slammed his office door shut, glaring at Linton and Yuen, who sat across from him. “She thinks she can walk in here, wave a signature, and sit on the throne?”
“She outmaneuvered all of us,” Linton admitted bitterly. “She used Damien’s authority and legally solidified it. But she’s still green. She can be cornered.”
Yuen adjusted his tie. “I say we start squeezing. Department heads. Numbers. Flood her with red tape. Make her stumble.”
Whitaker’s eyes glinted. “Exactly. Let her think she’s winning. While we gut her from within.”
Meanwhile, Arielle was already steps ahead.
With Mason by her side and her newly hired Chief Compliance Officer—a fierce, no-nonsense woman named Patrice Collins—Arielle began a full audit of all major departments.
“Start with procurement,” she ordered. “And marketing. I want every suspicious invoice flagged. No one’s off-limits.”
Patrice nodded. “Including board-related accounts?”
“Especially those.”
Within 72 hours, ten executives received compliance notices. Two were placed on administrative leave. Whispers flooded the corridors of Haven like wildfire.
At a lunchtime briefing, Arielle met with department heads in the glass atrium.
“I’m not here to micromanage,” she said, her voice resonating beneath the vaulted skylight. “But I won’t tolerate rot in the foundation. If you believe in what we’re building, you’ll stay. If not, there’s the door.”
A man in the back muttered under his breath. Arielle looked directly at him.
“Care to repeat that, Mr. Kerr?”
He paled. “N-no, ma’am.”
She didn’t smile. “Then let’s continue.”
That night, Elijah found her still at the kitchen table, surrounded by paper trails and financial statements.
“Mama, do you ever sleep?” he asked, his teenage voice careful.
Arielle looked up, surprised. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
He sat down across from her. “You’re trying to protect us. But don’t forget—you have us too. We can protect you back.”
She reached out, brushing his hair from his forehead like she had when he was small. “You’ve grown up too fast.”
“I had to,” he said simply. “We all did.”
The vultures continued circling.
Anonymous letters appeared in Arielle’s office accusing her of nepotism. Social media bots launched smear campaigns. A fabricated scandal linking her to a fake overseas account made headlines for two days before it was disproven.
But every attack only seemed to forge her stronger.
She moved through the building like a storm—elegant, relentless, focused.
And behind closed doors, her enemies began to panic.
“Damn it,” Whitaker growled. “She’s not breaking.”
“No,” Linton said slowly. “She’s winning.”