One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 85: Chapter 85

The day began with silence—and a shattered coffee mug.
Arielle had just stepped into her office when Patrice came in, face paler than usual. “You need to see this,” she said without ceremony.
She held up a brown manila envelope sealed with clear tape. No sender. No return address. Inside, a printed photo—Arielle standing with Iris at the Foundation’s charity gala two weeks ago. On the back, a note scribbled in uneven block letters:
“Even queens bleed.”
Arielle didn’t flinch. “Is this the first?”
Patrice hesitated. “There’ve been three anonymous emails. One showed a layout of your penthouse floorplan. Another referenced Elijah’s school schedule.”
Arielle’s breath caught in her throat, but her expression didn’t change.
“Show me everything,” she said.
In the conference room, Mason laid out the evidence—emails rerouted through international servers, a suspicious flower delivery with no known sender, and surveillance photos pulled from Haven’s internal security.
“The camera outside the lobby entrance caught someone loitering near your car last night,” Mason said. “Face obscured. Professional job.”
“They want me rattled,” Arielle said quietly, looking over the layout of threats. “But they’ve made one mistake.”
Mason raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“They came after my children.”
Her voice turned razor-sharp. “Increase detail on the kids. Pull Iris out of art camp early. Jonah gets a driver—no more carpool. Elijah’s school security gets doubled. And I want a background check on every board member again. If they so much as borrowed a pen from one of these mailing addresses, I want it flagged.”
“Already in motion,” Mason replied, nodding.
She turned to Patrice. “Seal this internally. No leaks. The public can’t know I’m under threat.”
“You’re doing this alone,” Patrice said cautiously. “You shouldn’t.”
“I’m not,” Arielle replied. “I’m doing it for them.”
Later that night, as the penthouse shimmered in gold lamplight and laughter floated from the children’s wing, Arielle stared out at the skyline with a glass of untouched wine in hand.
Her phone buzzed again. Another message.
“We’re closer than you think.”
She deleted it. Then locked her phone.
She crept into Lily’s nursery. The baby was asleep, thumb curled near her mouth, a soft wheeze the only sound.
Arielle sank into the rocking chair beside the crib.
The nursery had always been Damien’s favorite room—he had painted the stars on the ceiling himself during a quiet weekend, singing badly off-key the whole time.
“Daddy’s not here,” she whispered to the sleeping child. “But I am. I’ll always be.”
She let herself cry for the first time in weeks, silent tears running down her cheeks, falling onto the arm of the chair.
Two days later, another package arrived.
This time, inside: a knife. Serrated. Used.
Mason’s jaw tightened when he examined it. “Military-grade. Message is clear.”
“I’m calling a press conference,” Patrice said. “We leak this anonymously, blame it on a disgruntled former employee. It distracts the media.”
“No,” Arielle said firmly. “We stay silent. Let them think I’m scared. It’ll make my next move louder.”
That night, she trained in the gym with Mason for the first time in years. He guided her through disarming drills, evasive defense techniques, and blade-handling routines until her muscles trembled.
“You want to be strong for them?” he asked quietly.
“I want to be unstoppable,” she replied.
But the cost of silence grew heavier.
At dinner, Iris looked up suddenly. “Mama, why do we have new guards outside my classroom?”
Jonah added, “And why do they check the car before we get in now?”
Arielle forced a calm smile. “We’re just being extra careful. Lots of important events coming up.”
“But is someone trying to hurt us?” Elijah asked, voice unusually firm.
Arielle hesitated. “No. They’re trying to scare me. But they won’t win.”
She gathered them close. “I promise you, I will always keep you safe. Even when I’m afraid.”
They believed her.
But when they went to bed that night, Arielle sat awake until 3 a.m., watching security footage on split screens, heart thudding every time a shadow moved wrong.
Three days later, she walked into the boardroom.
“This ends now,” she said.
Linton looked up, surprised. “Ends?”
“We’re restructuring. Full asset review. I’ll be conducting surprise audits, one department at a time.”
“You don’t trust us?” Whitaker asked, mockhurt.
Arielle smiled coldly. “No.
And if you were in my shoes, you wouldn’t trust you either.”
The war had turned quiet.
But it had only just begun.