One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 89: Chapter 89
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The morning sky hung heavy with clouds, mirroring the pressure in Arielle’s chest as she stepped into the central boardroom. It wasn’t just another executive meeting—it was a declaration of war in silk and steel.
Word had spread: Oliver Roth, one of Haven Corp’s largest international investors, was making a move. His private equity firm had quietly increased its voting shares, and whispers of a hostile takeover were circulating. Arielle had seen it coming like a slow-moving hurricane. And now, it had arrived.
Oliver sat at the far end of the table, tailored suit pristine, his smile sharp enough to bleed.
“Arielle,” he greeted, voice low and falsely warm. “You’ve been busy.”
She smiled thinly. “That’s what leaders do.”
His eyes glinted. “Leaders—or placeholders?”
The room tensed.
Arielle stood tall. “I assume you’ve called this meeting to explain your sudden aggression against Haven Corp’s leadership.”
“I’m here to ensure shareholder interests are protected,” Oliver said. “This company is hemorrhaging from fractured command and internal sabotage. Investors are nervous. They want security.”
“They want control,” she countered.
“Exactly,” he replied coolly. “And I have the votes to call for a change in executive power.”
Silence fell. Even the air-conditioning hum seemed to vanish.
Arielle stepped forward, her heels echoing like gunshots on marble.
“You have votes,” she said, voice like thunder wrapped in velvet. “But do you have loyalty?”
She opened the folder she’d brought with her and laid out printed reports—internal reforms, increased revenue from crisis response strategies, loyalty polls from every department, all charting one thing: Arielle’s leadership was working.
Oliver scanned them, unimpressed. “Graphs don’t inspire confidence. Profit does.”
“Then you’ll love this,” she said, sliding another file across. “Our Q3 growth projections—adjusted for my leadership. You’ll see a twenty-six percent net increase. Projected investor return? Record-setting.”
A few gasps echoed down the table.
Oliver’s jaw tightened.
“And that’s before the holiday quarter,” Arielle added.
He smirked. “All this power has made you arrogant.”
She leaned in. “No, Oliver. You mistook survival for arrogance. What you see is a woman who has nothing left to fear.”
He stood abruptly. “Then let’s vote.”
Arielle raised a hand. “Wait.”
She turned to the board. “Before you vote, know this: If you side with Oliver, you lose me. And with me, you lose the people I lead. The loyal few who’ve rebuilt this company brick by brick while some of you plotted in shadows.”
Murmurs stirred.
“Choose your crown,” she said, voice slicing. “One backed by numbers, strategy, and fire—or one backed by fear and a suit with deep pockets.”
There was a pause. Then Clara stood. “I back Arielle.”
Then Mason. “Same.”
One by one, heads nodded. Half the board remained still—but not enough to dethrone her.
Oliver’s smile faltered.
“You’ve made your point,” he said.
“No,” Arielle replied, stepping closer. “I’m making my rules.”
She turned to the table. “From this moment on, all investor moves above five percent acquisition must be reported to the executive board immediately. No backroom deals. No stealth grabs. And anyone who crosses that line again—” she looked directly at Oliver, “—will face legal and financial decimation. Try me.”
A moment of silence.
Then she nodded to security.
“Escort Mr. Roth out.”
He didn’t resist. But as he passed her, he leaned in. “This isn’t over.”
She whispered back, “It never is.”
Hours later, Arielle sat on the rooftop of Haven Tower, the skyline flickering like embers.
Isolde joined her quietly. “You held the line.”
“For now.”
“But you drew blood,” she said. “That matters.”
Arielle nodded slowly. “I didn’t want to be a queen. But if I have to wear the crown, I won’t let anyone rip it from my head.”
“You’ve built more than a throne,” Isolde said. “You’ve built an army.”
Arielle looked out at the city, where shadows still waited in alleys and skyscrapers alike.
Let them come.
She would be ready.
Word had spread: Oliver Roth, one of Haven Corp’s largest international investors, was making a move. His private equity firm had quietly increased its voting shares, and whispers of a hostile takeover were circulating. Arielle had seen it coming like a slow-moving hurricane. And now, it had arrived.
Oliver sat at the far end of the table, tailored suit pristine, his smile sharp enough to bleed.
“Arielle,” he greeted, voice low and falsely warm. “You’ve been busy.”
She smiled thinly. “That’s what leaders do.”
His eyes glinted. “Leaders—or placeholders?”
The room tensed.
Arielle stood tall. “I assume you’ve called this meeting to explain your sudden aggression against Haven Corp’s leadership.”
“I’m here to ensure shareholder interests are protected,” Oliver said. “This company is hemorrhaging from fractured command and internal sabotage. Investors are nervous. They want security.”
“They want control,” she countered.
“Exactly,” he replied coolly. “And I have the votes to call for a change in executive power.”
Silence fell. Even the air-conditioning hum seemed to vanish.
Arielle stepped forward, her heels echoing like gunshots on marble.
“You have votes,” she said, voice like thunder wrapped in velvet. “But do you have loyalty?”
She opened the folder she’d brought with her and laid out printed reports—internal reforms, increased revenue from crisis response strategies, loyalty polls from every department, all charting one thing: Arielle’s leadership was working.
Oliver scanned them, unimpressed. “Graphs don’t inspire confidence. Profit does.”
“Then you’ll love this,” she said, sliding another file across. “Our Q3 growth projections—adjusted for my leadership. You’ll see a twenty-six percent net increase. Projected investor return? Record-setting.”
A few gasps echoed down the table.
Oliver’s jaw tightened.
“And that’s before the holiday quarter,” Arielle added.
He smirked. “All this power has made you arrogant.”
She leaned in. “No, Oliver. You mistook survival for arrogance. What you see is a woman who has nothing left to fear.”
He stood abruptly. “Then let’s vote.”
Arielle raised a hand. “Wait.”
She turned to the board. “Before you vote, know this: If you side with Oliver, you lose me. And with me, you lose the people I lead. The loyal few who’ve rebuilt this company brick by brick while some of you plotted in shadows.”
Murmurs stirred.
“Choose your crown,” she said, voice slicing. “One backed by numbers, strategy, and fire—or one backed by fear and a suit with deep pockets.”
There was a pause. Then Clara stood. “I back Arielle.”
Then Mason. “Same.”
One by one, heads nodded. Half the board remained still—but not enough to dethrone her.
Oliver’s smile faltered.
“You’ve made your point,” he said.
“No,” Arielle replied, stepping closer. “I’m making my rules.”
She turned to the table. “From this moment on, all investor moves above five percent acquisition must be reported to the executive board immediately. No backroom deals. No stealth grabs. And anyone who crosses that line again—” she looked directly at Oliver, “—will face legal and financial decimation. Try me.”
A moment of silence.
Then she nodded to security.
“Escort Mr. Roth out.”
He didn’t resist. But as he passed her, he leaned in. “This isn’t over.”
She whispered back, “It never is.”
Hours later, Arielle sat on the rooftop of Haven Tower, the skyline flickering like embers.
Isolde joined her quietly. “You held the line.”
“For now.”
“But you drew blood,” she said. “That matters.”
Arielle nodded slowly. “I didn’t want to be a queen. But if I have to wear the crown, I won’t let anyone rip it from my head.”
“You’ve built more than a throne,” Isolde said. “You’ve built an army.”
Arielle looked out at the city, where shadows still waited in alleys and skyscrapers alike.
Let them come.
She would be ready.
End of One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- Chapter 89. Continue reading Chapter 90 or return to One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- book page.